I remembered a fearful rumor, a rumor from a long time ago, a rumour that was first born when the grey smog first covered the once beautiful blue sky, there was a boy who hated this city and everyone who resided in it. No one knew the reason for his hatred, maybe he was someone who never knew love, or maybe he was someone who was abandonned by it. Nevertheness, they say he must have been someone so lost in the darkness that there was never any light for the black fog of the city to snuff out. Yet, when the city changed that boy could hear it's will, as the city bent and twisted the boy, listened to it's will and took up a knife to purify it from those who had sinned. The boy who was already dead inside, long long before the city had been covered by darkness became known as a phantom, the ghost that serves the will of the city. Who was this boy? No one knew where he came from, no one knows what he looks like, or what his name is. Yet they know about the rumours of the phantom, behind that mask they say that the phantom has laughing eyes. Donning, a thin paper white mask that shines with a gleam of metallic light, wearing a suit of black and red, as he readies his dance macabre, he brandishes his knife, a knife they say that will send those with a guilty heart slowly and gently into an eternal dream. They say that on nights when the moon is full and the snow is slowly falling, he will appear, a shadowy figure that blends seamlessly into the snowy night. They say he looks like something that is vulgar and inhuman, a mocking form. He blends in with the white snow, his patchwork cloak of black and red serves as a warning for the people that have forgotten those that they've harmed to remember their sin, only his victims can see him, only his victims ever see him. When they see the black and red jester with that paper white face they'll remember their sin, and those that they've wronged, however; it'll be too late to ask for repentance. Only his victims can see that smile that spreads from cheek to cheek filled with an innocent and playful grin, like that of a child's. They say, when he comes for you it'll be too late to pray, it be too late to run, and as he catches you in the backalley of some unknown, secluded, little, street lit only by the flickering flames of lamplight, the light of the flames will become dance in the chill wind of the winter night, to the melody played on some bizarre instrument, the melody will be beautiful and haunting as it calls out to you, as if they were the screams of some tortured soul and even as you deny it, slowly but surely, you'll become enraptured and he'll catch you. It's an intoxicating inhuman sound, signalling his arrival, it's a song that he'll play only for you. They say, it's tune is so lovely that you'll become entranced in it, that even the lamplight dances and at that moment in that bizarre scene he sets the stage for your funeral. As the monster slowly encroaches upon you, you'll be frozen in that trance even as your heart beats faster and faster even as everything in your being tells you to run you'll stay there like stiff, doll-like, unable to. He moves silently gracefully. Under the snowy night sky, the movements of his dance are mezmerizing and peaceful. As he dances at the very corner of your vision, swaying back and forth, seemingly flickering in and out of reality his cloak billows behind him, He comes ever closer, a demented surreal illusion cast from the cutting cold of the chilling, black winter night. Then slowly, slowly, just when you're least expecting it, he lifts up his knife, and you'll feel the rough grasp of a gloved hand on your shoulder holding you still and silent, you'll see the blade the killer doll has readied just for you, as it captures the gleam of the moonlight it's blade will slide quickly and swiftly across your skin and you'll feel a moment of pain as the icy cold metal leaves you as nothing more than a corpse. When that happens he'll whisper softly in your ear in a voice that sounds almost kind, the words. "Good Bye." Then You'll feel nothing, you'll want to scream, but even that energy will escape you and will leave your body without a whisper, your arms and legs will go limp and cease to support you, and you'll slump over into the cold, wet snow. As you suffocate, your lungs slowly filling with your own blood, you'll begin to remember about what led up to this fateful day as your eyesight grows dim and weary. The fog of sleep will slowly encroach on you, you will reach your hand out to the sea of white snow tainted by the red of your own blood, and in that instant you'll remember and you'll regret, and your heart will begin beating slower and slower. As death finally finds you, you will feel a dull pain, slow and throbbing along with the beat of your own heart. though it will not be the pain of the flesh, it'll be sorrow as your life flashes before your eyes you'll remember those you've wronged, tears will slowly fill your eyes and you'll cry knowing that your sins will never be forgiven. As you take your last staggering breathe you'll still remember that paper white face with smiling eyes that are filled with nothing, you'll remember the smile that is filled with innocent malice and the grave sin that the murderous doll has released you from. Slowly, Slowly you'll forget as his song sends you drifting down that river lulling you into the realm of eternal sleep under that beautiful moonlit night.