For the record, i'm trying to get through introducing the characters as fast as I can, so thanks for hanging in there!
Growing up in a family where his father owned a railroad company could have been the easiest life that Owen Locksmith ever had. Fortunately for him, it was the life he did have. Most of Owens days consisted of eating, in fact, to any passerby or to someone who did not know Owen, it seemed like the young man was always snacking on something. This was, perhaps, the cause of Owen's slightly larger appearance than the other boys in town.
Now Owen had always been a little chubbier than most due to his dietary concerns. As he grew up, and his metabolism started to fail him, he gained a considerable amount of weight before anyone recommended that he started eating right. So, Owen tried the greens and vegetables and decided they were just as much food as anything else. The young man, however, continued to remain on the heavy side since he could not stop his ravenous consuming of his favorite meal: venison.
Owen even hunted the deer for his own venison, from his front porch. The young man would sit in a rocking chair with a rolling block rifle and scan the fields for any unsuspecting deer in the distance (all the while snacking on whatever the chefs of his house brought him) and would fire when any came into range. Owen had become arguably the best shot in town with a rifle.
On this particular day, Owen was doing just that. Sitting in his rocking chair, the young man of about 24 concentrated into the scope of the rifle, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration, with just a little bit of drool dripping down the side of his chin. He had seen the sweet little doe prancing in the distance, and stuffing the rest of the chicken he was eating into his mouth, he had picked up his rifle with greasy hands and made ready to consume another animal to his seemingly never-ending hunger.
It was routine, Owen held the crosshairs a little ahead of where he thought the deer would prance unknowingly. And when the doe finally did prance in between the crosshairs, a hungry Owen pulled the trigger, felling the deer, and sent his rocking chair a-rocking with the force of the shot. Owen picked up a little bell on the floor to his left (with some small difficulty) and rung the bell twice. The young man heard the front door open behind him as an older butler walked out, squinting into the sunlight.
"Something you need, Master Owen?" the man questioned wearily.
"You bet," Owen growled, "I just killed me another deer, send out one of the servants to pick it up, and have it ready for dinner, I'm starving."
The butler glanced briefly at the half eaten meal on the floor beside the young man, but knew not to question the boy's appetite, it had proved resilient before.
"Owen!" A shrill voice called.
"Yes, Mama?" Owen called back.
The front door opened again, being held open by the butler for the slightly larger Mrs. Locksmith, who had also grown accustomed to the lavish, and lazy lifestyle the Locksmith's now enjoyed thanks to the railroad.
"Owen, my darling," smiled the robust woman, hugging her son around the neck (as her arms most likely wouldn't have fit around any other part of him), "I need you to be a dear and run into town to pick up a few things for dinner."
"But Mama," Owen groaned loudly, "I just shot dinner! Tell the servants to go pick up the doe, and then go into town themselves!"
"Owen Locksmith," Mrs. Locksmith said very curtly, "you don't get enough exercise young man, if you continue on carrying out your days this way, then I'm afraid you won't outlive your father and myself, and I don't have the strength to bury my own baby in the ground!"
Soft whimpering sound came from the large woman as she walked away from the rocking chair. Owen groaned again.
"Fine Mama, I'll go into town, what do you need?"
"Wonderful!" said a suddenly very cheerful Mrs. Locksmith, "we are going to need some vegetables to prepare with the venison, as well as some dessert for after dinner!"
Owen suddenly didn't feel like he was being punished anymore.
"And I get to pick the dessert?" Owen asked excitedly.
"Oh, of course my strong little man," Mrs. Locksmith cooed while pinching her son's cheek.
"Very well then," said Owen with finality, "we should be off immediately!"
The heavy young man once again picked up the bell and rung it twice. The butler sighed, as he had never left the front porch.
"Yes, Master Owen?" he asked once more.
"Prepare the coach immediately!" said the excited Owen.
"Yes, Master Owen," the butler said woodenly.
Owen attempted several times to get out of his rocking chair before he was at last successful, and grabbing his hat off of the railing of the porch he covered up the thin blond hair on top of his head. When the coach finally pulled around to the front of the house Owen, again, had some trouble getting up into the passenger seat, but upon his success, he was off to town to find the dessert of his choosing- as he had completely forgotten he was supposed to buy vegetables as well.
It was dark by the time Owen returned with the coach and the house was illuminated by its many lamps, and from the light of the dinning room inside. Owen hurried off the coach (almost falling in the process) and proceeded to run inside. As he had said multiple times over the course of one trip to town and back: he was starving.
Throwing open the front door Owen hurried into the dinning room on his left and sat down at one end of the absurdly long table. Owen's place was already set and so were his mother and father's but they were not at the table.
"Mama, Pa!" called Owen. There was no response.
"Mama, Pa, I'm starving, get down here so I can eat!"
Again, there was only silence.
Owen stared at his place, the venison was steaming and dripped with all the sauces he loved. The heavy young man's mouth watered as he stared at the meal, although his stomach did no growling.
"Alright," Owen muttered to himself, "guess I'm gonna have to start without them."
The young man picked up his napkin and tied it around his neck and picking up his fork and knife he began to cut into the meal, making disgusting and unappetizing sounds as he consumed the meat with fervor.
"You didn't say grace." Rasped a voice from the other end of the table.
Owen nearly choked on the half chewed piece of meat he had been inhaling at the moment, as he looked up to see a man with yellow eyes in a butler uniform sitting at the other end of the table. Hot anger flashed through Owen.
"Who do you think you are telling me I didn't say grace and sittin' at my table? You're just a butler! Get back to work!" Owen spat as he went back to working on his meal.
There was a sigh from the other end of the table as Owen looked up to see the yellow eyed man shaking his head back and forth.
"Maybe this time, I'll get it right," chuckled the yellow eyed man. As he stood Owen's chair flew backwards, sending the young man tumbling over into the wall. The heavy young man could only watch in terror as the man walked over to his slumped over figure against the wall. The man's face wrinkled in disgust.
"Wipe your mouth," he snapped.
Owen fumbled with his napkin to do so.
"Good," commented the man, "Now, open up your shirt, or I'll have to do it for you."
Owen wondered what kind of sick man this was as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. For the life of him, it seemed as if the fear he was feeling had wiped his memory clean of how to unbutton a shirt. Owen could feel his panic rising, his breathing was faster and more labored, and he was beginning to feel a terrible pain in his chest.
"Oh great," muttered the yellow eyed man as Owen fell over on his side. He had passed out from the heart attack he was having.
When Owen awoke the first thing he noticed was that he was alive. The second, was that he was hungry. Hungrier than he had ever been in his life. He desperately wished for some venison. Owen thought he felt a sharp pain in his right side, but he was still fallen over on the floor and couldn't get a better look.
"Damn…wrong again," rasped the voice of the yellow eyed man.
Owen yelped as he heard the voice, but suddenly the man's presence was gone. The young man made an effort to sit up and look in the direction, and saw that the man was truly gone. He sighed deeply in relief. And then realized that the venison he had never gotten to finish was still on the table. It probably would have been cold by now, but Owen was too hungry to care.
As he stood and walked over the food, he began cramming it into his face, eating as much as he could in as little time as possible. It was then that the heavy young man knew something was wrong. For all the food that he ate, the hunger didn't go away. Owen spent the rest of the afternoon eating and eating until he threw up, but still the horrible pain of starvation didn't go away.
Owen had eventually checked his right side to see what the man had done to him, and there, branded into his skin was the single word:
GLUTTONY
The heavy young man vowed that he would hunt down that demon man, and he would kill him with his own rifle, or any other means necessary.
And once he was dead: Owen would eat until his hunger was satisfied, and then eat some more.