Where's Your Home When You Have Not A Heart?
Part 1
He looked down at the mess he had made as the blood began to spread quickly across the sidewalk. He looked up, making sure there were no witnesses before dragging the body towards the river, where he washed away the evidence of any unhuman events by dumping the slim, porcelain figure into the deep water.
He knew it would be time soon. The townspeople were begining to suspect something, and he would have to move along to the next town, taking life after life before he was caught. He really was a sensitive creature... but he couldn't help it; it was in his nature. Come to think of it, he couldn't help his nature either- he wasn't given the choice to become what he was.
Eventually, he had forgotten he had a voice, for he hadn't talked to anyone since the incident had occured, except at first, the animals... or himself. In his own opinion, not only had he lost his voice, he had also lost his mind. He felt as if he had never slept; never dreamed. For when he closed his eyes, only visions of catasrophes appeared in his mind- and that only corrupted him more.
Not once, in the entire time he had been what he was, and all the places he had travelled to, had he ever met another creature like himself. He was hated by those not like him- for they suspected he was what he was. He rarely ate, rarely slept, and he rarely conversed- or left his manor for that matter.
When all the killings started, all the townspeople suspencted the few strange people they knew; he always happened to be one of them. He couldn't blame them...
He found solitude in old abandoned churches and tried his best to feed on the pigeons and rats around him... but there were times when he enetered a state; a state of which he couldn't control his actions or his mind.
It was like a feeling he described as drinking too much and forgetting you have a body or a mind and losing control. Everytime- he blacked out, but he always found out what he did. He read about it in the paper the next day, or heard passing couples talk about it. The more he heard about it, the more he hated himself for doing it and eventually he felt like his mind had been lost.
He had come to the conclusion that humans feared what they did not know, and therefore, they feared him. Like they feared the night, and all who strangely wanderred in it. Like they feared the sea and all the creatures hidden in it's depths. Like they feared the edge of the world and all it's dangers.
He knew better than that. With all this- came the conclusion that the Earth did not have an edge. He had travelled for years to find it, and everytime he got on a ship, it always docked on yet another island, where there were more explorers looking to find it and all it's treasures. He was just searching for it's fatal dangers.
He knew it would be time soon. The townspeople were begining to suspect something, and he would have to move along to the next town, taking life after life before he was caught. He really was a sensitive creature... but he couldn't help it; it was in his nature. Come to think of it, he couldn't help his nature either- he wasn't given the choice to become what he was.
Eventually, he had forgotten he had a voice, for he hadn't talked to anyone since the incident had occured, except at first, the animals... or himself. In his own opinion, not only had he lost his voice, he had also lost his mind. He felt as if he had never slept; never dreamed. For when he closed his eyes, only visions of catasrophes appeared in his mind- and that only corrupted him more.
Not once, in the entire time he had been what he was, and all the places he had travelled to, had he ever met another creature like himself. He was hated by those not like him- for they suspected he was what he was. He rarely ate, rarely slept, and he rarely conversed- or left his manor for that matter.
When all the killings started, all the townspeople suspencted the few strange people they knew; he always happened to be one of them. He couldn't blame them...
He found solitude in old abandoned churches and tried his best to feed on the pigeons and rats around him... but there were times when he enetered a state; a state of which he couldn't control his actions or his mind.
It was like a feeling he described as drinking too much and forgetting you have a body or a mind and losing control. Everytime- he blacked out, but he always found out what he did. He read about it in the paper the next day, or heard passing couples talk about it. The more he heard about it, the more he hated himself for doing it and eventually he felt like his mind had been lost.
He had come to the conclusion that humans feared what they did not know, and therefore, they feared him. Like they feared the night, and all who strangely wanderred in it. Like they feared the sea and all the creatures hidden in it's depths. Like they feared the edge of the world and all it's dangers.
He knew better than that. With all this- came the conclusion that the Earth did not have an edge. He had travelled for years to find it, and everytime he got on a ship, it always docked on yet another island, where there were more explorers looking to find it and all it's treasures. He was just searching for it's fatal dangers.