When the security of sanity is lost to us, we fall into the depths.
The turmoil of the inner mind, shaking us at our core.
What is it that drives a person beyond sanity, to become so desperate that they lose themselves and bring destruction to the lives of others?
It would be very safe to say that I would eventually know the answer to this question, but as I shook from the side of my bed all I could picture was the color red, and the silver blade of an axe ready to strike. It sunk fear into my heart as I got out of bed and looked out the window.
It was only a dream.
I forced myself to repeat this so I would feel safer as I looked out the same window as in my dream.
Where I lived was the same forrest as well, except that instead of a mansion I lived in a three story home, which wasn't too big of a difference. I had one grandparent, Nicholas Statum, an adventurer, but besides that I lived on my own. My parents usually only send me here for the summer, but since they couldn't even ask off of work for Christmas I'm stuck here in the dead of winter.
My eyes scanned the snow, and strangely I saw a speck of black.
A raven. It was bleeding.
And I had to help it.
I quickly hurried downstairs as my grandfather tried to greet me, giving me a warm smile and a boastful, "Hello, Frisk!" as I blew past him.
"Where are you going?" He called out as I threw open the door, not realizing I was still in my maroon nightgown.
"I've got to help this bird, Nick! He's hurt!" I blurted out before I slammed the door behind me, hearing a loud "Be careful!" as I threw myself out towards the bird and into the snow.
It was very stupid of me to not decide to wear shoes in the snow because my feet stung until I could barely feel them at all, but that didn't matter when I found the trail of blood and a limping little bird a few feet away. I hurried over and scooped it up in my hands as it trembled.
The bird had been..
..sliced..
What had done this?
My eyes flashed, and then I shook my head fiercely.
No, it isn't true. Creatures like that don't exist. At least, not in the real world. Sure, parents told us stories at night of scary creatures under the bed to keep us from leaving our chambers, but they only exist in dreams.
The bird made a distressed noise and began to flail and flutter in my arms, unaware that the more it moved the more it would literally fall apart. For some reason this didn't disgust me.
What interested me is that the bird had seen something, that caused it to flail.
Sounds began bouncing off the walls in my mind.
A creaking sound, followed by a distinct thud, coming from the forrest about 200 feet away.
I turned in that direction and the bird freaked out, falling out of my hands and hitting the ground with a small screech. I felt so guilty.
