A shop of oddities. Been to the city many times before. Never during the Devil’s Hour. To curious for my own good. There was a Talking Board. Was compelled to ask. So, a question I asked A question about my death. Now, my soul powers the shop of oddities.
The man I was forced to marry was toxic. Of this when the fallen found no dissent. I held high the knife. The silver glint caught the fire. I took a breath. I could not live this life. The knife came down. Two days later I stood at a grave. He was dead. I knew that one day the cost would be my soul. Now my body rots in the cemetery. I stood in front of the Seraphims for judgment. I snorted at them. Lucifer looked at me; he smirked “I adore a challenge, HELL.” He gave his vote on my eternity and sealed my fate.
I hired a Resurrectionist. Forbidden Research. A hunt for immortality. I could taste success. This rot within me would not win. The bodies held the key. I bathed in the blood. The search for the soul. I didn’t have one. I could not die. This rot could not damn me.
Dear Journal, My life ended today. My death began. I shouldn’t have been out. Not at the Devil’s hour. I wanted fun. Recklessness took my mortal life. I wrote to you as a mortal. I shall continue in death. I will embrace this curse. I will revel in my undead life.
Have you danced w/ the devil under the pale moonlight? Have done the Waltz w/ the Light-Bringer himself? I sold my soul. I sold my freedom. Greed, Lust, & Envy my life. I wanted more. Needed more. Didn’t care how. And now I dance w/ Satan under eternal moonlight.
Stopped to get a bite to eat. The beautiful land full of peach trees. A mistake. I never felt the attack. I woke. I couldn’t move. My limbs filled with straw. My face covered with burlap. I screamed. The crows went flying. I couldn’t move. For now I was a Scarecrow.
My blade is as sharp as a diamond as it slices through sternum of the cadaver. I open the ribs & pull out the heart. My mouth waters. Fresh may be best. Fresh also gets a silver bullet through MY chest. I get my hearts. I live my life. The Werewolf of Strife.
We prepared for the Harvest. If it was not successful our villiage would not survive. We worked the land. Tributes chosen. Tears running down. 1 tribute my own blood. The sacrifice for the greater good. It was the price of being a slave to the occult.
The goal was satori. I was heavily into the occult. The goal of enlightenment was the road I was on. I made it my goal. I dived deeper into soul magic. Going darker & darker. All to find the light. I met my end in darkness. But was reborn into the light.