The Joke.

Life can be meaningles. One can try to find one for it but it may never come. What we wish may never happen and maybe we are all looking for something which actually doesn't exist. Vince is the proof.

         

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The joke.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why life is so full of fear I wonder, thought Vince as he looked deeply troubled into the sky. He felt as if a tear might escape from his eyes, but for his own surprise nothing seemed to come out. All of his tears had run out in this cruel world. All of his hopes had been crushed, all of his dreams torn apart. His happiness had always been a delusion, nothing more than that, it was never real, merely a joke he used to hide his true nature, the truth behind his eyes. All the pain, the suffering, the sadness, the rage. That was what truly lived within him. We are cast out into this cruel world, we never asked to exist or live. Is it a punishment to us? For something we did or will do? Existence is pain, life is terror, and happiness is merely a glimpse of something better, but nothing more than a glimpse, and as soon as it fades out we are left here to remember how unfortunate and abandoned we truly are. Vince couldn’t help to touch his belly and the open wound in it. The bleeding didn’t seem to stop at any time soon. He could feel the warmth of his body fade slowly, drop by drop his life was draining. But it wasn’t his wound which troubled him; it was all of his life which brought him more pain than anything. A tragedy, a joke, a series of events which reminded him how miserable he was, how miserable life itself could be. In all of his life he came to the conclusion that beauty, good, love, happiness, friendship, family were simply a human construct born out from fear. The fear of the awful truth he now knew with complete certainty as he lay on the grass bleeding out. The one truth of his life: There is no good, nor love, nor light, only pain, darkness and misery. That was the essence of nature itself.

         The night was truly a dark one, there were nearly no stars at sight and the moon decided not to show its face. Vince was alone; no soul could be heard nor seen. It was so quiet that Vince managed to hear his heart beat slowing down its pace. The grass was turning red; the blood of Vince was painting the land into a dark red figure. From time to time the wind decided to blow which made the grass and leaves of the few trees around shift and move. Its sound was a dim one, but it was the only thing that could be heard. The stillness of the place, the lack of sound or anything at sight made Vince wonder about the Gods. Everyone believed in them, yet everyone believed in love and happiness therefore they were foolish people. Still he couldn’t help himself to get rid of the thought. The gods… he thought as he ironically laughed and coughed some blood which splashed his already blooded face. He tried to move as little as possible; every small and light movement gave him pain, from his belly, his swollen cut face and his right hand which at the moment had only two and a half fingers. …The gods. Those b******s. If they exist they are evil and cruel gods who mock us and enjoy our pain. What kind of being would cast us out alone in this harsh world? What kind of Gods would create such pain? What kind of Gods would have created ME, and give me such a fate? His breath started to accelerate from his anger but that only caused him more pain, and even more blood flowed through his mouth.

         “Gods…whatever name you chose to have…I curse you, you hear me?” He coughed some more blood but still kept going. He squeezed as strong as he could his left hand which was intact. “I CURSE YOU! You are evil, wretched creatures, no better than the mortals you created… We must be amusing to all of you, watching beings as evil and twisted as yourself grow and suffer to later die. Does it give you comfort? Do you laugh only because you can’t die yourself? I despise you with all my being. Only monsters could have created monsters like us…but hear me this, it takes a monster to kill another. One day…one day there will be reckoning for the abomination you are and the creatures you have created…you will pay.” After that Vince simply screamed. He roared with all of his power, all the pain, the rage, the sadness. His sound was a mighty one, and truly scary. A beast screaming with the anger of an entire lifetime.

         As his life faded he realized something. The old belief that all of your life flashes through your eyes before you die was true. But it wasn’t a joy. For Vince it was a horror, nothing more than the most haunting moments of his life, his most desperate attempts to remain happy, to have the notion that the world was a good place being torn apart. He saw many things. From his childhood to the moment that lead to his inevitable dead.

         As a child Vince soon discovered his abilities. Her mother called them blessings from the Gods meant for something greater. “You will one day accomplish great things my dear Vince. You’ll see. These abilities of yours are nothing but the will of the Gods I’m sure of it. It is Gorgot who gave you these powers.” She used to tell him, so it was just a matter of time before Vince decided to show his gifts to other people claiming they were the will of Gorgot the God of power and strength. Of course they did not take it well at all. They feared and despised him, some farmer’s sons even tried to drown him in the river near their town claiming he was an abomination, nothing but an insult to the Gods, and that was the first time Vince used his abilities to hurt another person. Although it was nothing more than a simple scratch the town folk did not take it kindly. The earl of that time, Malkjur the just, decided that they needed to kill him even though he was just a simple child of seven, and also they should burn his mother for conceiving such a beast. His mother of course heard of the earl’s decision and as a scared animal that values its own life before anything else she turned against his son, “It was his fault, he seduced my mind with dark magic. He comes from the underworld itself! An envoy of the unnamed one! Burn him…Burn him!” That was the first encounter with human’s despicable nature that Vince had the pleasure to witness. He managed to escape from Pucno, the town where he was born, and he would not return in many years. His mother was flayed alive and left for the crows to feed as a punishment for nurturing such a beast.

         For some reason that event didn’t change Vince, as an innocent child he was sure that there were good people, that happiness could rule the world and they could accept what he was. After all it wasn’t his fault being what he was, they would surely understand that and accept him with time. He was such a fool. He still couldn’t grasp the notion that they feared him and fear was the spark needed to create hatred and hatred lead to violent deeds without using reason or logic. He couldn’t yet understand that hatred clouds judgment, that fear is an ally of ignorance. He would soon understand that.

         He became a wonderer, travelling from place to place hoping to find somewhere he would find kind people, understanding people, those who would not neglect him. But slowly he began to realize that his was a cruel and harsh world, filled with brutal and savage people. More than once he found himself in danger and near to death, but his abilities always managed to save him just in time, but he then had to escape, because no matter on which town he was, whether it was Meclindorth, Gatigath, Cotumpair or Satipand it didn’t changed a thing. Once people found out who he was and what he could do everyone rallied against him. It took some years for him to realize that he should stop seeking the company of others. At the age of fifteen he managed well enough by himself, not without a series of events which scarred him for life. It often happened to him that as he travelled he remembered the images of the men who took advantage of his body when he was little, the disgusting things they did to him, the things they forced him to do. The times they tried to kill him, the tortures he witnessed and where done to him. His body still ached at some places which never truly healed. When the flashbacks came he just shook his head wishing to forget everything but it could not be washed away. He remembered the terror of running away from large groups of men and women who came down at him like wild animals, with hair as long as manes, with beards which covered all of their faces. They came down at him with torches, axes, swords, spears and hammers. Their screams were frightening. He often woke up from nightmares where he was followed by huge figures of men, tall as they could be and truly strong. The worst was that they weren’t nightmares; they were memories of when he was nothing but an eight year old and had to escape from enormous beasts, yet every time in the dreams it was the figures who yelled at him “YOU MONSTER! BLOODY BEAST!”

         More than once he was faced with terrible things, wild monsters who wished to devour him or worst, the wrath of men, and other creatures. The times his life had been at stake where too high to count, but he tried not to think about it. In the deepest part of his heart he still believed there was good somewhere, within men’s heart. Now as his life was coming to a bitter end he realized how wrong and foolish he had been. Vince realized how much time had been wasted looking for something which was never real.

         With the passing of years his dream of finding happiness and kindness slowly faded and died. There was too much evil, he had suffered too much and had seen too much suffering, too much death and evil with his own eyes, he had witnessed it himself. His life was a story, a testimony of the worst of humanity, the worse things imaginable. He had seen the tortures and brutality in the name of the Gods. The horrors humans could do to another trying to please these so called Gods.

The existence of higher beings became a topic he did not like, how could there be such cruel Gods and call themselves good, how was it possible that humans worshiped these beings if they were responsible of so much pain and evil. From the many Gods there should surely exist one that was truly good, the one that dealt with the light. He hoped such a God existed, but if it did, its name was unknown for Vince, and his actions were invisible and unspoken, because he could not see any good. It seemed that the Gods were as evil as the unnamed one, the destroyer and bringer of chaos.

         At a time in his life Vince was angry, really angry with himself. Why he had to be like that? Why was he different? He did not want to be different, he wanted to be like everyone else and be able to get rid of all the bad things that ever occurred to him just because of how he was. He wanted to fit in, to be loved, to be needed. What he wished was to be part of something, to have people whom he could rely and trust. But he couldn’t because he was different. He didn’t want to be different. Why must I carry this curse? Why can’t I be like the others? If I was like everyone else I would be happy. Being different only manages to bring you loneliness. Vince was tired, tired of loneliness and evil, he simply wanted someone to share his life, just one person. I don’t ask for much, just one person. At the age of eighteen Vince was tired, really tired of searching for something that seemed not to exist. Kindness was a lie, and love never even existed.

That began to be Vince stand to the world, until he met her.

It was during one of his travels near the mountains that he first saw what he would later call true beauty. She was bathing on a river completely naked. Her skin was a light brown, her body finely carved. Her arms and legs were long and precious. Her legs seemed to extend forever until they reached her feet. Her breasts weren’t that large but Vince fancied them, he considered them beautiful. Her back was seductive, delicate and fine, a beautiful sight. Her hands were delicate, with fin fingers but very graceful. They were rather seductive, they managed to catch Vince glare and hypnotize him. It was the way she moved them, the way she washed herself. But above all what Vince found was her most beautiful attribute was her face. Good features, a perfect nose with slightly big cheekbones. Her lips were large, yet not oversized; they seemed to call him, always managing to create a stirring feeling within Vince by just the sight of them. They were a light pink and every time she opened her mouth Vince couldn’t help himself but stare at them, they were perfect lips. Her hair fell with slight brunette curls above her shoulder, and went on just until her shoulder blades. But it was her eyes which truly drove him crazy. Her eyelids were quite dark yet not that long. Her brown eyes matched her skin and had a glare like a tigers. A beautiful yet powerful stare. He always considered that her eyes were a large sea, always promising to reveal something new, yet they were so vast that you could lose yourself on them. Her glance seemed to tell so much. Her eyes spoke more than anything. Not all the words together could have as much meaning as her eyes. They were infinite, they were eternal.

When she saw him staring at her washing herself she quickly ducked and grabbed a sword she kept by her feet near the water besides the rocks. Vince couldn’t do anything but smile; she was so beautiful yet so fierce. He wanted her with all his heart, with all his manhood and with all of his soul. He began to approach her slowly and calmly and as he came towards her she gave him a rather curious look, not frightened but intrigued by this wonderer. He wasn’t that big at the time, neither old. He did not seem to carry any weapon at sight but his dirty clothes and his ragged and torn bag. Yet as he was faced by a sword he kept creeping towards her very slowly with nothing but the purest of glances. He looked at her with absolute wonder and excitement, but there was no evil or anger, nor any hostile intention. That look managed to make the girl put the blade down and ask him “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

The voice…The voice was music to Vince’s ears. It reminded him of times he just sat quietly as musicians played next to him and as he listened he felt joy and freedom. Her voice brought that feeling back to him. He wasn’t able to conceive a more perfect creature. He was completely baffled by such beauty, such perfection. In all of his life he had never seen something so perfect.

         It was after such a strange meeting that Vince devoted his next year to seduce the girl of the river which he would later know as Cleo, and even further on he would be so glad to call her Wife.

         It was hard but he had succeeded, he had won the heart of Cleo. For the very first time in his entire life Vince felt truly happy, his heart was filled with joy and it seemed that there was some good in the world after all. Cleo seemed to be the torch on the darkness for Vince. The one light he so desperately seek throughout his entire years. She made him happy, she was fierce yet kind, she was wise and strong. She had so many tales to tell him having been a warrior for her old town Satipand, she told him of her travels and battles, of her joys and sorrows. Vince simply listened, he usually got lost in Cleo. Her eyes are the sea, and I’m a simple man in a small boat sailing it into the deepest places I can reach. Yet there is always more.

         Although she used to tell him all about her past Vince always refused to speak of his past life. It didn’t matter how persistent Cleo could be he would not talk. He would never show her his true nature, his abilities, his gift. He had learned in a life full of pain that every time someone got to know the real Vince they would hate him, neglect him, chase him, despise him and try to kill him. He didn’t want that to happen with Cleo. He wouldn’t let that happen to Cleo. But fate seemed to have other plans.

         Cleo never minded that Vince did not wanted to share his past with her, yet it intrigued her but she was able to understand that some men had a past which was too painful to speak of. Yet it was after a couple of years when she was with child that her curiosity was too high. She would give birth in some months the child of Vince, yet she did not know this man at the full extent so she needed to find out. She had only one clue. It was because of the tattoo on Vince’s back with the symbol of his home town which was made to every child in the realm. Thanks to that tattoo Cleo knew where to start searching.  Pucno.

         She began her long journey without telling Vince. It was during one of his fishing trips. She knew she would have a good head start. Obviously he would try to stop her but wasn’t going to happen. She rode fast and with complete determination into her quest to unveil the secrets of his husband’s past. Soon when Vince returned to their farm he realized she was gone. It took him some time to realize where, but as soon as he did a fear as haunting as a dead man’s ghost stirred within him. She couldn’t know. She can’t know! Please she can’t hate me! Not her, everyone but her! He rode towards Pucno, the place he had dread for years and feared. The place where it all started, the place where his gifts became his curse. And soon Cleo would know. Vince was afraid, more frightened than ever in his life. The huge men coming at him were nothing compared to the thought of loosing Cleo, the thought of her hating him and despising him because of what he truly was.

         It took him several days to arrive at the outsides of Pucno, but he knew very well where he was. He remembered this place and all of the torments he went through in here. Even though throughout the entire journey he had been truly determined to enter his town if needed be to take Cleo out before it was too late he hesitated now. This was the place where all of the villagers rallied to kill him when he was just a child. What would happen now that he was a grown man? Would they despise him more? Would they even recognize him? Cleo I love you, please…please don’t hate me. He trotted towards the entrance of Pucno with his head down, completely covered in his black hood and ragged robe. He did not want to be seen. If they found out who he was everything was over. There was no going back.

         He searched through the entire town looking for Cleo, hoping that she wasn’t there, that maybe he had been faster than her or maybe she was already gone. He despised with all his being this place, the people who lived in it, their food, everything. Yet he had to stay here and search for Cleo. He looked everywhere he could think off. The taverns, the market, the blacksmith. He even ventured near the great hall where the current earl of Pucno lived. It was no longer Malkjur the just He never was truly just Vince thought with a bitter taste in his mouth. It was Malkjur’s son who was earl now, Morken the terrible they called him. He earned his name because of the severe punishment he applied to his enemies and to his people. At the shore of Pucno’s lake he usually impaled those who meant harm to Morken or his lands. Usually they weren’t just impaled; sometimes their fate was far worse. Vince went through the shoreline in hopes not to see Cleo there, but he had to make sure. If Morken is like his father and knew about me then what will he do when he finds out that my wife and my unborn child is at Pucno? Vince felt relief when he realized that Cleo wasn’t at the shore, but what he saw disgusted him. It seemed that Morken had earned his name.

         Vince was troubled, his mind raced with horrible thoughts, of Pucno, of this people, the things they tried to do to him. The image of Cleo came to his mind and the thought of her dead, leaving him or hating him brought him despair as he had never felt before. He had to leave this place as soon as possible, yet he couldn’t until he was certain that Cleo was safe and not here. That night he decided to rest as little as he could. He had to find her. And he did.

         As he dismounted his horse he caught a glimpse, nothing more than a glimpse of Cleo’s brunette and curly hair hair at the second floor of an inn. He immediately knew it was her. He tried to walk towards the inn as calmly and steadily as possible but the truth was that he might as well have run towards it. As soon as he entered he met with an old lady which he assumed was the owner. He asked if there was any room available at the second floor and she told him that there was only one left, the other two were occupied. He gave her as much coin as he could and rushed towards the stairs. Once he was on the second floor he was frozen. He was in front of an aisle from which at its right side were three doors with some yards of distance between one another. He knew that the last one was his room; it was the only one with the door completely opened and no fire light. The other two doors were shut and the dim light of candles could be seen from the gaps between the door and the floor. Inside one of those doors was Cleo.

         Vince’s heart had never been so strong; it seemed as if every beating might rip his heart out of his chest. Yet still he took a deep breath and walked slowly to the second door in which he was certain that Cleo would be. Every step Vince took forward made the wooden floor creak. It seemed an eternal walk towards the second door. He hoped it wasn’t too late, with all his heart he wished Cleo did not know the truth. Please… he thought with absolute despair and pain, please Cleo.

         Once he had reached the door he took a deep breath and opened it with a heart filled with pain. And there she was, sitting on a wooden chair starring at the dark night through her window. There were no stars. She was dressed in a white gown which Vince did not remember. Once she heard the door opening she tightened her fist yet she did not turn around. But by the way she moved and tilted her head she knew it was him. Yet still she chose not to like at him. No…, thought Vince, no, no, no, no…please NO!

         “Cleo?” He said in hopes that she may have turned around with a smile in her face, yet all Vince could glimpse was a tear streaming down from Cleo’s face. “Please…I beg you…my love please turn around and face me…please.” Said Vince as his eyes were watering because he understood. Cleo knew.

         She stood up, still looking at the window with her right fist squeezing as hard as it could her gown. Then she turned around. She was crying, and had been crying. Never in his life had Vince seen so much pain in someone, and coming from Cleo that only made things worse for him. In her eyes there was sadness and anger, lots of anger, yet there was nothing else. It was as if her eyes had shut themselves towards Vince. By now he was crying as well. “How could you? Deceiver! Liar!” She screamed with all of her lungs, “I wish I had never met you, you are not from this world, you weren’t sent by the Gods, you…you come from the underworld where the dead search for a way to reach the living. Impostor! You were sent here by the unnamed one! What have you done with me?! I can’t believe I loved you…You deceived me. I…I hate you! I HATE YOU!” Cleo screamed with fury and complete sadness. Her screams were a mix of both emotions. She seemed a furious animal, with a death stare but at the same time her heart had been broken in so many pieces it could not be fixed.

         By now Vince realized that all of his fears had come true and that once again in his life tragedy and despair had found him.

         “Show me,” Said Cleo with such an intense yet broken voice that it literally hurt Vince, “show me your true nature. Show me what you hide under that skin, under that mask. Show me the truth behind you, the monster you really are. Do it…Do it!” Vince was filled with anger, sorrow, pain, sadness and betrayal. He kept his eyes down; he could no longer see Cleo. It was too painful. Therefore when she launched herself at him with a dagger she could not see it. It went straight towards his face and cut deeply in it leaving a cut that went from his temple to the side of his right eye. The bleeding began immediately and the pain was puncturing. The blade had scarped the bone. Vince was filling himself with anger. Cleo just looked at him as tears streamed down his face and did not seem to stop. With one last look into Vince’s eyes she screamed “He’s here! He’s here! I’ve got him!”

         Soon after her scream Vince heard the room next door going crazy with several and hurried footsteps moving from that room. He heard the sound of metal on metal, swords being unsheathed, shields being hit and the screams of the men inside. In less than three seconds they were inside the room with Vince and Cleo. She couldn’t stop crying.

         The men that entered were heavily armored, carrying axes, swords, shields and daggers. Most of them wore boiled leather armor. They all entered the room quickly and surrounded Vince. He simply exchanged looks towards the men and to Cleo. He realized that the women he loved, the light in his life had betrayed him. His breath began to become louder and louder until another sound reached the room. The creaking of wood as someone from the aisle was coming. His steps were heavy and the rattling of metal came with him. In no time he appeared in the door. Unlike the rest of the men he was wearing a crimson metal armor. It was fashioned to have the colors of Pucno, red and black. On his back was strapped a huge battle axe. At his waist was a long sword whose hilt was in the shape of a dragon’s head. The man was big, he stood six foot tall and was broad shouldered yet slim of waist. He did not wore any helmet. His face could only be described as hard yet good looking. Cruel but handsome. His beard was black just like his hair which was quite short. His eyes were a vicious green. His eyes looked upon Vince as a beast looks at his enemy with complete bloodlust. Even though Vince had never seen this man he knew immediately who he was. Morken the terrible…she gave me up to Morken.

         “Now” Said Morken in a strong and commanding voice, “I shall finish what my father could not. I will kill the beast of Pucno.”

         It was all too much. Everything had been too much, his life had always been nothing but pain and tragedy, but anger and suffering, it had always been fear with savagery. And at that moment Vince decided that he was wrong all along. There is no good, nor love. Those are lies. There is only pain. At that moment he for the first time had a very clear purpose, to impart the pain they had given him throughout his life to this men. They shall know his fury.

         With all his anger and strength Vince screamed a mighty roar, one that could be heard through all of Pucno and released his abilities.

         His eyes quickly turned crimson red, his mouth was wide opened as his teeth began to transform into sharpened and long fangs. The sound of bones dislocating stirred fear within the warriors as his arms and entire body began to grow in muscle and strength. From his fingers came the sharp sound of broken bone as the claws made its way through the fingers until they were out. His claws were sharp and long, black as coal. His skin began to change color; it went from the usual pale white to a dark nearly black blue. From his skin began to appear markings that seemed to be on top of his skin. All of his hair went pale white, even whiter than the snow. After he had transformed he could see the fear and hatred within men’s eyes. He decided not to turn around, he did not wanted to see Cleo who was at the other side of the room. Vince roared one last time and went towards the warrior closest to him. His claws were able to cut even through the fortified shields and had no problem into spreading flesh open. Blood splashed all of his face and hair. Yet his face had already been bloody by the hand of Cleo.

         Spears went towards him but he managed to dodge them just in time. As swords came down at him he had to move from one place to the other using his claws to slash bellies, arms, backs, legs or throats. He had already killed some men when he grabbed one by the throat and with his great strength held him up in the air. As he did Morken went towards him and with great force punched him in the temple with his gauntlet, then with his dragon hilt sword he slashed at Vince’s face. Morken failed to deliver a deadly blow but Vince was hurt. He roared and raised his right hand ready to slash at Morken with his black claws but before he could do that from behind came a powerful slash that cut off almost every finger on Vince’s right hand. Out of anger and instinct he turned around and dug his left hand deep inside the belly of the one behind him.

         When he turned he saw his hand stabbing the belly of Cleo. She was holding in her right hand the dagger that had cut his fingers. She looked at him with sorrow, fear and pain as blood was coming from her mouth. They were face to face, his red eyes staring into her brown ones. He looked at them and after a few moments where he had been able to see so much he couldn’t see anything. The vast ocean that had been her eyes was no more. She was dead.

         Vince could not believe what he saw, he…he had killed Cleo, his light, his wife, the mother of his child. He had killed the woman he so madly loved. He pulled out his hand from his wife’s belly and as she fell he grabbed her. Her white dress had turned red and Vince’s left hand was soaked in his wife’s blood. He slowly placed her in the floor with trembling hands. She was dead. He had killed her. He screamed with all of his power as he left her on the floor. Then immediately came the sharp pain of a sword slashing at his back. He screamed in pain and quickly turned around. He was now driven by anger and a death wish. He took the man who slashed him by the neck and with his hands he ripped his head off in a sloppy way. He began fighting all of the warriors from Pucno who kept coming and one after another they kept dying, yet everyone was leaving a bloody mark on Vince’s body.

         It was when he was holding a man by the neck digging his claws in its flesh that the sword came. Pain bringer was the name of Earl Morken’s sword, and it was that sword which pierced Vince’s belly and went all the other way to its back. The pain was severe and the sword was slashing with ease Vince’s insides. He began to cough blood. Morken had passed the sword through the warrior that Vince was killing for him not to see the blow coming. It succeeded, he had stabbed the beast of Pucno and was injured very badly, yet Vince was not done, he threw the men he was holding aside with Pain bringer which was attached to that warrior. He had Morken in front of him unarmed. He tried to reach for his axe but it was too late, Vince was already on him. He threw Morken to the ground and placed himself above him. Then with his sharp fangs began biting Morken’s face ripping chunks of flesh. He screamed out of pain until more warriors came to his aid. Once Vince saw the reinforcements he turned as fast as his damaged body allowed him and jumped through the window which Cleo just moments ago was staring through. He fell on the ground hard and all of the villagers around him screamed in terror at the sight of the beast covered in blood. He roared and then began to run. He heard the screams of men trying to catch up to him and the sound of arrows being shot at him but none reached him.

         After an half an hour or so of running Vince fell on the ground. He was alone, completely alone on the grass in which he now lay. He quickly began to change back to his normal form, his gifts were gone. Soon enough his eyes, skin, mouth and body were back again what it used to be. Only that he was dying.

         And now as he was dying on the grass Vince couldn’t help himself but to think. A joke Vince thought as his life passed by his eyes, It has all been a joke, nothing more than a joke.

“A BLOODY JOKE!” He roared looking into the sky with everything he could. And with a final breath after his last scream his eyes shut down. They would never open again. The Beast of Pucno had finally died and the joke was at last over.

         

Author's Note

Ignore grammar problems, english is not my native language.

Reviews

[AshlynnStyx]

I love it. It's beautifully descriptive too.