[4.Withering Pined Lovers]

The story consists of an opening and four acts each act has a title in each act story is going to be wrapped around the title. Opening has the Japanese version of tag. Hide and seek but a deadly one

(Opening).
Bo, dhi, dhar, ma, falls down

With an overabundance of dread filling the frigid night air, a sinister chill definitely present there. With a visitiary shadow at my soul clawing to tear. Playing a game with this life I surely dare.
Let's begin. Shall we play, play till one is free, free from you or free from me.

(Act 1)
Hesitance and the Apportionment of wounds

Manifested wounds of a sadistic love, not one place he would dare not touch. For she was never safe, manacled to this soul tie, he and I. Heart gyved many years ago, so tethered between this world and the next. Her decision to leave always torn, always vexed, life since childbirth evidently hexed, a worn down cadaverous old soul to find trapped in this young 20-year-old. For each one she would bear twice, thrice, the returned repercussion only seemed fair, for he and his soul are beyond repair. A slight defy, a challenged provocation to this lonesome monstrosity, a cacodemon that was once a man, is no more. Ascertaining a decision with a discernible amount of animosity filled rage. Her vexation Starts slowly shifting away, antipathy inside her so strong it cannot hide. With his astringent attitude, conjectural love with the acerbity welling inside her mouth like bile. No longer confused nor timorous, she steadied herself incisively for she knew what she must do. With verbal and behavioral disinhibition no longer controlling her, life with comeuppance she refuses no more. V is for vendetta. Vehemently and conscientiously, painstakingly time slowly goes on, seasons drifting by.


(Act 2)
(The Pillow of shame)

His chest bestowing a cacophonic sound croaky, guttural wheezing into the gelid night air, ill-lit, shadowy, subfusc and uninviting. Subsequently followed by the tartarean screams coming from inside. Dismal ridden all over her face, eyes dreary and caliginous. She stepped outside to get some fresh air, a flutter of wings followed by a squawk and caw. Despondent, dispirited with a woebegone manifestation, a creeping desolate feeling of melancholia so pungent, so stifling, prominent and pronounced, resembling a suffering strident outcry. Pervading its self throughout the house. With it's haunting and daunting dasein. Exercising prudence, with her deliberate actions. Knowing the eventuality of consequences of her ruinous venture, woe to her for she did not care. Releasing the fatalistic persona she carried, No more. No longer a defeatist ideology. Hardened with a newly cynical mindset, steeling the ruse. Her ploy, already set in motion. Desperation of these series of devious stratagems coming to fruition. With each direful sound that gurgled and escapes his breath, Reminded her of the heinous and deplorable way she lived. Execrable memories come flooding back. The screams, pleads and croups, for she did not care, she let him expectorate, gasp, rasp grasping for air. With this illimitable night in sight, with the Myriad of times he called into the night. A profuse amount of thoughts filled her head. Superfluous imagery contributes to her nightmares. Voices so loquacious unbeknownst to him. The nightshade she already had administered to him. All the while staying quiet, still, motionless keeping her insipid demeanor the whole time.


(Act 3)
The Severing Abyss

With his steadily depreciate of life. No longer able, he capitulates as has he tries to stave off the impending declination. Enervated, depleted, debilitating and consumed. Halcyon in my mind, body and soul, feeling more prostrated by the day. A deep sinking presentiment feeling with a foreboding sense of calamity. Teetering on the precipice of this nugatory life of mine, barley struggling to stay alive. Attempting to articulate, spark a nerve, to move. A dark impending emptiness, a cold Baren wasteland, it is this substantial fight I attempt, against this stygian foreverness. With a creeping apathetic attitude towards my own demise. A three-eyed Raven pecking at my window to no end.

(Act 4)
A blood-soaked Thread

Watching the bemused look upon his vacant, abundance of vacuity upon his face. Despondency taking over, lethargy combined with the feeling of hopelessness mingled with a vacuous demeanor. Twisting turning in pain, not just yours mine is the same. With a resolute pain to abide by, now forced to abide along side with me...
At one fell swoop we, concertedly started thy dance of NightShade. So Twisted as it grows, with it black as the Belladonna's date. A simple drink I gave you and you to take. Now your candle flame is flickering, succumbing to suffocate on your own demise. To depart, to be no more, to breathe ones last breath of a dilapidated existence call life. You quiver you shake you tremble in fear, for death you stare at last in the face. Life and soul beginning to oscillate. An eternity forever you shall stay. A puppet of necromancy, a soul for Hecate! Unrelenting demons shall keep you constrained, confined in such an immure. They will forever stay, convened with a daunting imprisonment onto the. For I used this blood-soaked thread to cut off the venomous snake's head. Such an encumbering task now complete, prostrated for a sleep so eternal, a sleep so deep. For I am the Belladonna NightShade! He is NeverMore! We so infinite, timeless, deathless, sempiternal and unfair.