Sally Face OneShots

And To You, I'm Forever Grateful.

Travis watched his father be cruel and unforgiving to anyone and everyone who dared to walk into his path, including his own son. 

He would often be incandescent, wrathful within his words, No matter what he said. Not even the praises and worships at that church were peaceful.

The women would cling to him after every mass, their ears pressed up to listen to his prideful heart.

Travis sometimes would ask the elders, Getting the same thing. "Beware the Ides.", whatever that means.

Travis would quietly walk with his father in obedience, looking around quietly. The ministry wasn't doing well, the mango trees around the building were rotting as they walked past.

Travis would hums, Whispering to himself the words of wisdom he had asked of the elders.
" Beware the Ides. "

He always wondered what it meant. He had just turned 18 too, which his father celebrated.

He doesn't celebrate his birthday often. Not since his mom had vanished.

Travis and Kenneth continued to walk, his eyes were met with a maze of stone walls.

" Kenneth, Kenneth, Kenneth! "

The men and women screamed in celebration of his father's arrival, their hands raised to lift their praise to him.

Travis writhed in envy. Why was he being celebrated? Travis has been watching him his entire life, There isn't anything great about him.

He hated his father's every move, His foolish decrees.
He hated the way people gathered around him like he was some sort of prophet.

That hatred led his life on until he was 27. He was Oh, so tired.

Travis held the sword tightly his fist as his father was praising a demon, surrounded by stone walls and people in cloaks.

It was the Ides of September. He wasn't let out from the basement of the church as a 'guard'.

Travis was more hateful of his father than he could ever be.

He was his son goddammit, He deserved to be celebrated too; he could be great, if not greater.

He wants so desperately to be like his father, his one and only role model in his home, but no matter what he tried, he was seen as Kenneth's shadow.

One of the newer cult members came up to him after worship, Asking his name.

" My name is Travis, Travis Phelps. " He said as if sharing a last name with his father was a burden.

They walked away. Didn't even say thank you.

Travis once again watched as shadows rose up from the ditch in the large room, His father praising it wholeheartedly and welcomes it.

Travis furrowed his brows as he unsheathed the sword, tightening his grip on it.

He wasn't supposed to do this. Something wicked came over him, He wasn't sure to run away and deny it or to embrace it.

He wanted to kill his own father.

May the gods strike him down, Forsaking him; Travis was his son, His own flesh and blood, but why should he lie awake at night thinking:

" Instead of you, it should be me. "

He dreamed of this moment, the day he'd be celebrated and his name was known and echoed through these halls.

So what if he was evil?

He was going to be seen as the poet, not just a muse.

He stared at his father, thanking him for bringing him life.

He grieved, holding his sword in his hands tightly, his name was heavy. 'Phelps' is a name to be forgotten.

He wanted everything his father had— No, He wanted to be him.

To have his name raised among the gods.

His whole life, This man was teacher and father to him, But every single thing he has done wasn't without his assistance. Why is he the only one being celebrated?

He lifted his sword and struck his father in the back.

" Please know my actions aren't motivated by envy— I, Too have a destiny, Like you. "

He looked up, the shadows rose higher and was staring him in the eyes.

He achieved this.

Not his father.

The cult fell silent before raising their hands up in praise.

" Travis, Travis, Travis! "

This death was art. He shoved his father's corpse away, and spread his arms wide, smiling and laughing at the feeling of finally being appreciated.

He had embraced the darkness, the immorality in the corners of his mind.