I didn’t actually ask for a first class suite with a view to every paranoid and insane person in Marid valley. But im not a complainer, i get by with what is offered and it’s known before that the ones too blind to their own nature is so much easier to prey on. Dont you think? First of, let me make one thing clear. this whole ‘find your inner beast’ thing was not my idea. Im rather sure that whoever saw the creature hiding within this old shell, would consider themselves on the wrong side of the bars. Some pathetic man with too much selfinterest searched for the easiest way to torture, what remained of the sanity from poor human souls in the santuary. By my standards he was the most sick of them all. The crave for blood sometimes gets the most cautious into neck-deep trouble and i dont mind being the hunted for a while, what i despice is when the hunter is a unscrupulous human. Poorly gifted as these mortals are, they tend to make mistakes, this unsavoury man made one, just one. He tried to enslave the wrong beast. But as my mother always used to say, where one fall down another shall raise, and till this hour i can still hear his small pathetic whimpers in my ears as i licked of his bloody tears, and drew out my nails from his heart. So fragile and yet so provoking to my senses.

I can hear them pray, laugh and whisper in every corner of my mind as they walk through the shapeless darkness shielding them against the outside world. Sometimes my sensitive mind touches another presence guiding them down the wrong road. For them there will be no salvation. But obviously he is none of my concern, after all we are not the only ones feasting on the frail minds of humans. Prowling through the santuary, build for every tormented soul of god, i prey on the strongest of the weak. In their eyes i see fear bound by the terror infront of them, they search for a reasonable explanation towards the beast draining their heartblood, but all they ever find is darkness. I pitty them and all that they stand for, they do not know that the only liberation they will ever find it when touched by the hand of death. So they fight and whimper, beg and cry, and i reasure them about the truth of life. Humanity was the favorites of god. But he of all will never be able to protect them from his very own abomination. Me.

She hides in the shadows behind the door.

So scared of what might see her if she took the chance of letting the last sunlight warm her freezing heart, and so she watches while the only thing that stands between her and madness, shines its last goodbyes and takes of  behind the hill. Her grip around the door tightens, and her breathing stops. This once so beautiful body, is now nothing but a leaf that starts to shiver, and her knees feels like they have given up. Without a sound her body collapses and she tumbles down on the floor. There is no one there to pick her up, dust the sand of her dress and blow on her cuts.

As night falls creatures moves around inside her, and she grabs for something to hold on to, both her hand and her mind is fighting for her life. She doesn’t cry, only whispers to the bright light that stands near the door. She begs for her life and grabs once again for the angels wings. But this angel is not here to save her, but only to show her that she is no longer in His protection. She is an outsider, a loner that took the road made of ashes. Ashes that feeds on her sanity, and lives of her thoughts.

The whole night she lies alone, watched by this angel of ponishment, and hour by hour she begs for the last part of her that still lives, begs that she will be forgiven, and taken away. Her body is to weak to even hold the knife, the angel offers her, and it falls to the ground along with her hopes. As the angel turnes away and start to walk, the first tear begins its way down her cheak.

The night is once more driven away by morning.

She smiles, and fights her way through the kitchen, puts the knife back, and stands by the door, waiting for night to come. Once more.