The Eyes Of A Pyschopath [Synful]

[Ride Into Morning TM]

Darkness can only be measured by those who linger inside of it. Evil is a product of what surrounds it, things cannot fall into the grasp of the world beyond on their own. For, their minds are too weak and too fragile to manage to pull out of the aggressive reach. Sharp claws slit the helpless lives of creatures both large and petite that attempted their escape from hell. When such a fool mixes weakness and a loathe for the light, a demon is produced from the ashes of one who has fallen. Why do we long to feel blood beneath our bodies? When the crimson river flows from your wounds, it never ceases for anyone. Not even the devil himself. For he, cannot stop bleeding and nor can the darkest of creatures. What if, you are not like the others? Your eyes, bare no expression and inside you cannot feel the effects of emotion. You act, not seeing the affects of your behavior of others around you. Being a anti-social equine, is not what you long for. In those cases, you are on your own to fight for yourself. He has signed a deal with the devil. The devil gave this equine his eyes, and in return he signed a debt in which many souls must be killed on the night of All Hallow's Eve. He was born on the darkest of the nights in the year, Halloween. At the tick of midnight his wet, and delicate body had hit the ground. It was at that moment, his fate had been sorted out by the demons that would soon invade. He started his life has a clean, and innocent colt with not a desire to harm in his mind. His mother licked his wounds clean and brushed his dirty forelock from his face when they galloped across the wet marshes. She looked after him, and his elder sister who had reached the point of mare hood. For she had a lighter build than he, a lighter coat and far smaller wings. As he looked into your eyes, they seemed to become more lit with anger and hate with each passing moment. For she loathed her brother. To the point of doing away with him, even. It was at this early stage, when his mental health declined. Their sire and dam had no desire to care for their children, they only wanted to escape their grasp around their necks and throat. They pleaded, for Halloween to stop acting the way he did. Oh, I can't help it! Can you help it? They're here! They won't leave me! But they did not offer up an ear to listen. Instead, they frowned and threw up their fierce skulls and ran off with the brilliant sunset. His sister tortured him, and in too many mental and physical forms to name. Her payback would come, Halloween would toss the first body into the ground. The devil, would not ignore the deal he had made. When Halloween slaughtered his sister, all he could see was the ground beneath her body. The grass, stained with some red liquid that had a careful shine to it. This, was only the start.

Halloween's diseases and many problems haunted him for most of his life. It all seemed too fake, too unreal to believe and for the shortest amount of time he could not remember the first years of his life. He might as well forget, for his immortal curse would chain him to live.

[{.Synful.}]

She breaths..... She sees..... She lives.......

For years the herds thought she was gone. Dead and gone. They thought she was no more. How wrong they were. She just bidded her time, waited. Waited patiently to return.

She would never let them forget, you couldn't forget her.

She was the Apocalypse, straight from the deepest darkest pits of Hell. Summoned to wreak havoc and harvest souls. Bringing with her the shadows and the night.... and death.

They thought they defeated her.... but you can't kill something that was never truly alive. She was the living dead, dead yet breathing, eating, existing.

Torn between reality and fantasy, she is very real. When she is near a chill creeps up one's spine, her breath, like a death rattle pierces the overwhelming silence and the stench of a 1000 rotting corpses that consumes your senses when she's near.

She is the reaper, the fallen angel, the night, the shadow, sin and sorrow. Legend has it that she is to bring on the Apocalypse to cleanse the world. To rip the fragile seams of time. To bring forth a new dawn.

But there is a price for the new beginning. The sin of the living must go, must be gone.

Blood must spill, tears will rain, bodies pile and souls taken.

But it must come. The time is now.

Beware the Apocalypse is coming.

[Ride Into Morning TM]

Not even the most rudimentary sense,

Laying on the grass as if he were some lifeless corpse, the black creature arose with a simple surge of energy. How on earth was he allowed to leave the bounds of the night of Halloween? Had the devil forgotten the deal and let Halloween out of his grasp? But this could not be it. The daylight was Halloween's only source of true weakness that could be seen from the eyes of another. He moved slowly and with growing weakness he attempted to stand strong like a proud bronze sculpture. The devil had taken out his own eyes, in order to spread his own terror upon the earth he gave them as a gift of terror to Halloween himself. They were black, they were pale, but most of all they were the most evil that anyone had known. Snorting out into the air, it felt as if the effects of Halloween night were still wearing upon him. When that night would fall the wicked beast had little control of his body, for the devil played with him like a puppet from above. His eyes would go as white as the clouds, they would roll into the back of his mind and remain there until the night would end. Then he would try to work towards the debt of bodies he so desperately owed to the demon of all demons. How curious, another living carcass remains. But this one is not one of my kind, for this creature seems to be of a different dimension then myself. I must, I must go see for myself. His thoughts ran without any limits, and Halloween kept himself at a swift walk, the shadow that circled him following him out into the sunlight. Lowering his head, a thick veil of forelock prevented the bleeding light to penetrate into his eyes. The light was a blinding curse. Therefore, the clouds parted and let a brief moment of pure sun slam into the earth with a fist made of rays. Halloween's build, was only just enough to not crumble into dust as he was certain he would do. Halloween's legs were bound by chain. Not visible, they could be felt by their prisoner. October 31st, was the night in which his carcass would only be seen, and only in the silent shadows. The Shape. A emotionless, silent watching, but quick to slit the throat of a yearling who passes his sight. What, created such a mess? Was he, perhaps the very curse the Devil swore under his breath? Staring without meaning, another demon had become noticed by Halloween. A female, it was. "Oh darling, what are you doing out here? Don't you know, it's dangerous when it's dark."