Scarlet.
Dripping down smooth flesh, rapidly flowing from slit skin.
Crimson.
Slowly drying on a once-silver knife, its strong, copper scent filling the heated room.
Brown.
Splatters nearly a year old caked on the chipped, plaster walls, a painting of pain ready to crumble at a single touch.
That old warehouse, built right in the middle of nowhere, housed a type of evil that no sane person would ever want to encounter. An evil that had spawned many other evils, an evil that even angels ran from. This warehouse was his playground, his hobby when things on earth got boring or tiresome. Humans were led there and ensnared, like a mouse in a trap waiting for the cat to come finish it off. But this night was different. Tonight, the evil retracted some. Tonight, a curtain was thrown back and the fallen angel behind it was shown for what he really was. The being that so many feared took this one night to be the grieving little fledgling that missed his daddy. Humans died that night, but among their screams, wails that bordered on animistic could be heard. The slicing of flesh and the groan of a last breath being taken were still there, but the beast slaughtering them was screaming just as loud. Crying for his brother, his little brother who he practically raised and the little brother who he had killed so brutally just hours before.