Hooves of Havoc

Chapter 1 - Odorous Odyssey

For Willow-Mae x - Mark Oretism

The golden sun cast a beautiful luminescent glow over Vernon Street. Yawning and rubbing his sun-kissed, jaundice-infested eyes lay a scrawny, scruffy young boy who was far from hopeful of the day ahead of him. All he anticipated was a day identical to the one before; mundane and monotonous, contrary to the lovely weather that rested at the exterior of his isolated bedroom. Exhaustion slashed at Mark's face like a hot knife, urging him to return back to his peaceful slumber. But, a lingering feeling of curiosity was consuming him, and allowed him the strength to arise from his shit-stained mattress. Effortlessly brushing through his slicked-back-Rick hair with his Cumberland fingers completed his routine. Not so long after, his shoes were on and he had left his dilapidated and ancient home.

Even this unusually bright and pretty day, Mark found himself feeling not so bright and not so pretty either. His illiteracy meant that he was completely unaware of where he was actually going, and had to rely on his instinct to guide him to his destination, even though he didn't particularly know that either. Thousands of eyes pierced into him as he walked along the narrow pavements. Although he was on the enormous side, it never crossed Mark's mind that he could have been engulfing the entire pavement. He just shrugged the glares off and continued. Eventually, his long aimless journey led him straight at the doorstep of Beechcroft Crescent. The remote, poverty stricken battlefield clawed at his nose in a violent attempt to stop him from going any further. Mark was undeniably hesitant of this inbred kingdom, but he pursued. Luckily for him, most residents stayed permanently in their properties due to unemployment and crack cocaine. This also allowed him the whole pavement, and he delighted in enjoying a full 2 metres to himself. Any strong desire to turn around and leave was quickly overcome by his inquisition. Identical terrace after identical terrace passed by, leaving Mark wondering if he had been going in circles. His sunflower yellow eyes darted left and right, analysing each abandoned-looking, lifeless property. From Mark entering this desolate wasteland, he had not seen a single soul or a sign that he had come to the right location. As he pondered to himself, he felt a hot, raspy whisper burn and singe the hairs on the back of his neck completely off.

"Orite cock...orite cock...orite cock..." Mark shuddered so hard he almost shat himself into an out-of-body experience. It felt as if he had just been Tig-whipped and violated. He didn't dare turn around to face the sinister, ominous presence that stood mere centimetres away from him.
"I said..." A thin, bony hand suddenly spawned on his chunky left shoulder.
"...Orite cock...?"
By now he could smell the rotting breath of what he assumed was an entity who took on the identity of a xe/xir. Mark had almost had a seizure seconds before, so he knew a xe/xir when he saw one. Slowly but carefully, he turned to face the anonymous figure. He was unfortunately greeted with a set of horrific black, half chewed, almost crumbling, mossy cobblestone teeth. In that painfully pungent moment, Mark wished he had just stayed curled up in his silk sheets, and ventured into his dreams instead of experiencing this painfully awful reality.