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Dance of the Dead

A smidgen of blood here, a twist of the flesh there, all sewn up with a few stitches to seal the deal. Such is the fate of the dead when they pass their organs to harvest by the beast that is man. These are dark times we live in like the fresh shallow grave. The spirits of the fallen remain unable to rest, as their bodies are violated to which the detest. The reaper has no kindness for those who defile his children and in a desperate measure he revives a shepherd. And with this man he places the most evil of skills the ability to bring fourth the dead when ever he willed. So back to earth he came with no remorse he massacred whole cities with armies of their own. As he continued on his path his intentions quite clear, he brings with him darkness as the bringer of fears. And with each kill he makes his army grows stronger his targets quite clear as he casts them asunder.

But power corrupts and soon this is clear, as the shepherd now urns to become the king. He led his armies down into the river styx his pride made him blind as his body did itch. And facing the reaper he found out all to quickly, that he hadn't a chance his torment unending. As punishment for his betrayal he was ripped limb by limb and created again. For his misdeeds upon earth he lost his right eye his body frail and haggard as he was sure he was to die. The reaper now smiled his torture not done as he commanded him to earth erasing his mind. Clutching onto a book the abomination did find that the necrotic art was his only vice he had left in his life. He soon set out with no destination to find as he wondered the earth in search of his mind.

Unorthodoxx stood on the border of the small town in Germany, the sign had fallen and there was no way to identify the towns name. “This is where I am being drawn, but what is it that is here.” He produces a pendant in the shape of a small skull the pendants mouth opening wide and projecting a light for him. He followed the trail of light turning corners as the light itself had shifted all the while confused as to where it was taking him. It came to a stop in front of a old abandoned house the moon sank behind the home as all light was instantly stolen away from the area. The rest of the villagers lay asleep in their beds after a long day of work even the most resilient of them joined in the slumber. Unorthodoxx walked up the stairs of the building turning the knob and letting the door ease open for him. He took a step inside the house looking around at everything as his head began to throb at all the sights he was seeing.

He was shown in the past before the first time he died as a happy youth living a good live with his wife. He appeared to work out of his home being a doctor and treating the villagers when they came to him. His wife was a nurse, but he was unable to recall her name as his mental image shifted in moods. His wife lay ill with a rare form of cancer as he stood over her, he could see his mouth was moving, but in the image he could hear no words. He saw himself at a desk studying the possibilities of how to cure the disease that plagued his beloved. His eyes slowly turned dark, and all his efforts were in vain as his wife died without any type of treatment. He saw her gave his fail overworked body mourning at it night and day throughout the seasons. And finally he saw his death, a death caused by lack of sleep and nourishment permanent dark bags remaining under his eyes as he was cast into the earth.

“My home.......?” He asks the air as he recovers from his mental state slowly rising up from the floor. “Why did you bring me here........” He says as he turns away moving to leave and neglecting the fact that the door had been jammed shut. “Very well then....” He says in a tone of annoyance as he continues up the steps of his home. Across the room was a desk many books were stacked upon it as he crossed the room over to it. “Medical books I have no use for these.” He mutters as he looks upon them a spiritual force pushing his attention toward a staff. The staff was jet black and shimmered in the faint moonlight. A rectangular blade rested at the top as it beckoned to be returned to its master. He lifted the staff a new feeling of enlightenment crossing over him as he held it within his hands. “It feels as if it was made for me.....” He mutters softly as he slings it over his shoulder his face concealed by the thick hood of his cloak. The skull pendant lights up once more a malevolent force dragging him from his domain and casting him out into the street. He follows the light once more coming to the gave yard in the center of the small village and stopping at a old moss covered grave stone. He kneels brushing the moss away and reading the name inscribed upon it. “Eleanore.....” He whispers as his voice becomes raspy now knowing what the pendant had brought him here to do. He places the staff on the ground a dark aura surrounding him as the grave before him quivers. The soil shifts violently as a skeletal hand juts out of the ground pulling a decomposed body behind it.

His power helped hold her flesh to bone and she stood before him now a fragment of what she used to be. “Hello darling its good to see you again.” He spouts as he looks at her his voice still haggard and emotionless. He turns his attention to a mausoleum in the distance leading his former wife by the hand as he works the door open. “This will do just fine.....” He says as he walks down the stairs and into the tomb leaving the door ajar. “Lets get you fixed up now shall we?” He removes medical tools from his bag as he begins to mend parts of her body with the same stitches he himself was held together with. “Rest now.” He mutters softly as he sinks down a wall his staff draped across his lap.

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