Disclaimer: I Don't Own Silent Hill. I'm Just Messing Around With It.
Author's Note: Ok, So 'Being' is being a pain at the moment. I've started chapter 3, but it's just not coming along like I wanted too. Yes, I'm afraid I have writers block and it sucks!
But hey on a lighter note I wrote this instead. It sorted hit me so I decided that if I have inspiration for this maybe my plot-bunny will come back.
Enjoy!
The Night
As the night swallows the day, it's struggles meaninglessly, it's golden tendrils fall lifeless as the spark is consumed. The dark shudders with the pleasure of the coming madness. The coming of it's master.
It's creator.
It's Mother.
She has blessed them with gift's. Stray humans that tease it's senses, driving them against the bonds that imprison it. But they do not fear, for their Mother has also granted them a vessel.
He who walks amongst the damned and brings judgment to the sinners. He who drives fear into the heart of man and beast alike.
He stands above them, all muscle and distinctly male. He carries the sins of man upon His massive shoulders, forever a reminder, a punishment.
His heavy gait announces His arrival. The scrape of metal announces His judgment. His quarry scramble and ran for freedom, they won't make it far.
They never do.
The night confuses them, plays games with their sense's. Leading them right back to Him.
When His judgment is cast and the blood spilled. The darkness consumes their soul, feeding on the sins and corroded memories. Twisting them, manipulating them until nothing remains.
The Executioner is left unsatisfied. Never feeling the pleasure of heat on His skin, the taste of metallic, the crunch of bone. His anger consumes His mind, the rage sends scorching heat through His blood stained limbs.
He ache's for release.
The darkness closes around Him, it's black tendrils lick at His skin, tasting His anger. The night shudders with pleasure, awaiting more.
But their time together has come to an end. The dawn approaches, and with it the burning pain that is the light.
The void calls to Him, coaxing Him to join His brothers in Her protecting embrace, shielding Him from the piercing spark. He trembles and falls into Her awaiting arms, welcoming the abyss.
As the day swallows the night, it's black tendril's struggle for freedom, 'till all that remains is the fragment of a breeze and the heated whisper of the damned.