Monsters Of The Mind

Critical Insanity

Graphic depiction of violence toward a minor, death, torture, etc. Read at your own discretion.

A person doesn't really notice how much of a smell human blood has until they are surrounded by it - spattered on the walls of buildings, all over the cobblestones of pathways, congealing under the severe heat of a white flame. He, of course, was blissfully aware of the many different textures, smells, and even tastes of blood; it was like the liquid was aching to be experimented with. It dripped from his fingertips, it had been splashed on his clothes, it was even on his face - this beautiful fluid that flowed so peacefully in veins left uncut could now be a marker of both death and destruction. Laughter echoed through the terror and panic, the citizens that were still left attempted to hide from the maniac after another taste of metallic and red. 

The best part of this whole scheme was that he could drag it out for however long he wanted, and yet no one would be able to escape. The god had set a spell after exploding that child's head, one that would alert him to someone attempting to exit the village and put them in a rather... dismembering situation. It also served as a barrier for those wishing to get in, though he highly doubted anyone would want to get in. In essence, the spell made the whole place disappear; there appeared to be nothing but an empty plain where it actually stood. He was an expert at preventing prey from escaping unless he specifically wanted them to go free. 

His eyes were bright in the darkness of the falling sunset, the hues of gray that peeked out when the sun was just over the horizon coloring even the most beautiful red, a dull and dark color. Flames flickered and embers sent up sparks among the crumpled and ashy ruins of the houses he'd torched; the bodies that had been inside were no more than scorched corpses now. His hands were folded behind his back, rolling an eyeball with the cords of muscles on the backside of it still attached back and forth between his fingers. A blindingly white smile graced his bloodstained face. The god was whistling a soft tune the second spirit of him had known when but a child as he paced the streets. To the villagers still trapped in the houses and in the surrounding fields, it was a farewell song, like the funeral tunes sung after the passing of a loved community member. It spelled their doom the closer and closer the notes came to their hiding spots.

A young lad of only sixteen was hiding in a small shed near the center of the village; his name was Eman. He had never been expecting to be stuck in this kind of life-or-death situation, and even though he had no knowledge of the spell on the outside of the town he was planning an escape. A slightly rusty but sharp sword was sheathed in leather on his hip as he sat in the corner near the only window, watching with bright green eyes out at the darkening village square. Eman was intelligent enough to realize the whistling noise was coming from the attacker he had yet to see; it was drawing closer with every consecutive note and footstep floating on the warm breeze. 

He pulled his head down just in time to avoid being seen, catching a glimpse of a tall man in blue with brown hair come into the square. Eman felt a pang of terror creep into his heart, trembling with the uncomfortable sensation of staring death in the face without certainty that he would make it. The boy's ears picked up on the noise of air moving and then there were more footsteps, now above the ground. Eman could assume the attacker was now standing on top of the well no more than twenty meters away from the front door of the shack he was currently in. 

Cold sweat dripped down his face as he opened his mouth as wide as it would go, breathing in and out as slowly as possible to reduce the risk of being heard. Laughter cold like frost on a winter morning was echoing through the silent hull of the now-ghost town; Eman gripped the handle of the sword tightly as the depraved and insane man started speaking to himself.