The Fold

Vulgar

James Slater has never lived a white picket fence life. The darkness that swelled inside his chest stemmed from bad habits and violent childhood. Not that any of that matter now at the bright age of 28. At this point in time, it was a choice to stay in the warm, pernicious depths of the abyss.

Shooting it out in the dead of the night with sirens wailing in the distance was a familiar face that James had stared at. The smile of death was an invitation to dance, and he had taken it like a fish to water. Chasing down the target was almost laughable. An enjoyment, cat and mouse. Shakily shooting with missing bullets,they mirrored right into his back. Suddenly, the taunting simper had vanished into a stoic look of disgust.

What was this?

The ground rushed up and collided with his consciousness. Dazed and a little confused, the barely noticeable sky spun above him. The pain that spiraling from his back was mixing poorly with his desire to fight. Anomalous in nature, it was know an indistinguishable figure that hovered over him. Suddenly, James could feel his life slipping. The sweet, sinful bliss had turned against him.

It was a flash, and he could feel his weight falling. There was no realization of what happened but the strange sensation of being cumbersome. Then white, hot, searing pain filled inside of him. James felt the unearthly cry that gouged its way out of his chest. It would make blood curdle.

W H A T H A P P E N E D

Such comfort wasn't suppose to betray him, yet it had. In a very, unsurprising twist of events.Hands gripped at his face and he felt like he had talons that were just sinking into his cheeks.

W H E R E A M I

Unable to fully grasp a sense of gravity, or what was really happened, he writhed on the floor in wild discomfort. It was almost like watching a rodent be caught in a trap, moments away from having a heart attack. An amused laugh echoed into the heavy air.

"James Slater. 28 years old. Died due to predictable alleyway fire-fight."

The agony worsened, it felt like blood was running down and through his fingers on flooding onto his arms. It dripped loudly to the ground.

W H O A R E Y O U

Another amused chortle sliced against Jame's ear drums. He could feel the smirk burn into his eyes.

"Never once guilty of a good deed. Reeked havoc and misery in every waking step. Sinner."

Y O U A N D W H A T J U R Y

Shrieks filled the void again, but this time, he managed to his knees. Finally, lifting his gaze, it landed on an illuminating figure. His senses returned for a fraction of a second, then it dawned. This was judgement day. Anger busted through the pain.

F U C K Y O U

Two beasts came into his field of vision, with gleaming teeth and pale eyes. Sinking in his own ship, James struggled to his feet but found he couldn't run. The demonesque creatures circled closer with rattling chains and annoying laughter, chattering teeth. They very quickly enclosed the damned in his chains.

"You are undeserving of Heaven."

Buckling to his knees, he thrashed in vain. Struggling was obvious an option of pure failure. Never had James felt so far removed from escape. Teeth barring, he felt fangs grace his lips. Froth began to form and run down his chin, Blood still stained his face and arms. A deep, throaty, snarl bit the atmosphere.

B U L L S H I T

Just like that, James Slater had fallen. Perfectly demonized, just as he was.