ã€ŠSanguineã€‹


 Chapter 1- Welcome to Sanguine

    ??? Side

    Ah¡­ my eyes¡­ my eyes have opened again¡­ how rare these days¡­

    Has it been days though? Has it not been years¡­ millennia even?

    I can no longer tell, nor does it matter¡­ time flows differently depending on the being, and I have long since stopped being.

    I do not know what my children refer to me as anymore, as when last I had awoken they had praised me as Lord Watcher¡­ so I suppose that is what I am¡­

    A Watcher, not a part of the world beyond seeing it¡­ yes, it fits me well¡­ I refuse to act upon the world, like so many of my brethren¡­

    Though I suppose that is hypocritical of me¡­ I have children after all, and they act as they will¡­ at least it isn¡¯t like my other brethren though.

    I¡¯m less hands-on compared to them, for sure¡­ then again, I¡¯m the most human of us¡­ honestly, I still refer to myself as ¡®I¡¯ or ¡®me¡¯ like an ordinary being.

    How amusing¡­ but even more amusing than that, is what I see before my eyes¡­ my eyes that see so much, oh, so, so many eyes¡­

    Humans, entering our home¡­ oh, the poor things¡­

    I wonder how long it will take them to succumb to our stench, to our taste, to our blood¡­ only time will tell, oh fickle time.

    <hr>

    Cole Family Side

    ¡°I hate you.¡± Well, as if I hadn¡¯t heard that before, little brat, it isn¡¯t as hurtful as you think it is¡­ not that Oliver could say that.

    ¡°What do you want me to say Stacy, that I¡¯m sorry? It¡¯s not my fault you got kicked out of school again and that the only place that will accept you is halfway into Canada.¡± Oliver spat out at his sixteen year old daughter as she looked away with a huff.

    ¡°It is your fault, you¡¯re my dad.¡± Ooh¡­ low blow little girl, low blow¡­ again, not something Oliver can say, he was supposed to be acting like a serious, annoyed parent.

    Oh, why did he end up having a kid at fifteen¡­ his kid was older than half his age¡­

    ¡°Point, point, but think about it, you¡¯re not just inconveniencing me, since I have to find new work now, but Mike also has to go to a new school and find new friends.¡± Oliver pointed out, hoping to drag in some support for the argument.

    ¡°I-I-I¡¯m f-f-fine¡­ n-n-not happy¡­ but f-f-fine.¡± Looks like Oliver would be getting no support from his son, though he really wished he¡¯d drop the stutter by now, it was getting annoying¡­

    ¡°Sorry Mike, dad¡¯s just an ass.¡± Now why couldn¡¯t his own daughter be nice to Oliver like that? Instead the only person she seems to actually like is her half-brother Mike.

    Oliver noted, Stacy was because of high school hormones, Mike was because paid sex is excellent but dangerous, from now on, don¡¯t accept the second and the first is long gone at least¡­ his own warnings may or may not be accepted considering the hooker he got in the last town stop they were at.

    ¡°That¡¯s m-mean.¡± Oliver was getting really annoyed at that stutter at this point; an annoying speech impediment that he had been assured Mike would grow out of eventually¡­

    He didn¡¯t trust that, considering Mike was the son of a prostitute that could have been drinking and smoking during her pregnancy, who knew what was wrong with the kid¡­ lucky for Stacy, her mom was actually kind of responsible¡­

    Well, that was actually because she was the valedictorian of her school and had secretly been a pervert with a crush on the star football player that was Oliver¡­ and she had a thing for younger boys¡­

    Oliver seemed to get all the weird ones, though the fact that they were kinky made up for it in his opinion.

    More than made up for it¡­

    ¡°Whatever¡­ huh¡­ hey Stacy, is there a town on the map?¡± Oliver asked, looking through the windshield as Stacy huffed and checked the fold-up map of the great US of A.

    ¡°Nope, we¡¯re a few hundred miles out from Quebec but nothing in between¡­ why¡­ oh.¡± Oliver was so glad something managed to shut up his traitorous daughter as they drove past a sign.

    Welcome to Sanguine, we hope you stay.

    That last bit was weird, and the name itself was weird to Oliver¡¯s mind, wondering the pronunciation when Stacy spoke up.

    ¡°Sanguine? I think that¡¯s French or Latin¡­ something about a colour¡­¡± Oliver rolled his eyes at Stacy¡¯s words.

    Expect the child between a drugged up athlete and a genius of sorts to somehow be a troublemaker that was still smart. How that happened, Oliver didn¡¯t want to know.

    ¡°So the town¡¯s named after a colour and has a weird welcoming, is it on the map though?¡± Oliver asked, trying to cut his daughter off from wondering as she just rolled her eyes.

    ¡°No, there isn¡¯t anything on the map actually¡­ weird.¡± Oliver agreed, it was weird, but not majorly important, they had driven past a farm or two that wasn¡¯t on the map, maybe it was because the map was old and this town was out of the way?

    ¡°Whatever, we need gas and some food, we¡¯re stopping for an hour, then we¡¯re leaving. I don¡¯t give a shit what you brats do, but leave me alone.¡± Oliver stopped once they got into the town proper, allowing the children to get out of his old beat up truck.

    ¡°Go on, beat it.¡± Oliver didn¡¯t really care where they went, as long as they left him alone to himself for an hour.

    This town looked too small to be having adult entertainment, so he¡¯d probably just have to find a bathroom somewhere to bust a nut¡­ having kids is not conducive to getting some, or even relieving his own tension.

    And so it was that the Coles split up.

    <hr>

    Side Stacy

    ¡°Asshole¡­ so Mike, what are you going to be doing?¡± Stacy looked to her little brother, ruffling his dark brown hair as he looked up to her with a frown at her actions.

    She didn¡¯t care that he was frowning over it, obviously. She loved her brother the most in the world, over her asshole father and over the mother who had two other kids with a successful military veteran or something and pretended Stacy didn¡¯t exist.

    ¡°I-I-I¡¯m going to the park.¡± Stacy smiled at Mike, nodding as she raised a thumb in approval.

    ¡°Alright, I can see it from here. By the way, I noticed you only stuttered once there, you¡¯re getting better.¡± Stacy never forgot to complement her little brother on his improvements, knowing that even if he did improve, the asshole they called father wouldn¡¯t notice or accept it.

    ¡°I-I-I still stutter f-f-for the same letters though¡­¡± Mike wasn¡¯t wrong, his stutter was consistently for words starting with ¡®f¡¯ ¡®i¡¯ ¡®m¡¯ and ¡®n¡¯. It was apparently normal to only stutter at only certain sounds for those with similar speech impediments.

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s still better than when you started, when you first started talking you stuttered for everything but the ¡®S¡¯ sound.¡± Stacy reminded, smiling at that, liking to think that it was because her name started with it.

    It made her feel better about her chronically depressed self.

    ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ okay¡­ see you later.¡± See, without those words involved, Mike could talk properly, though his speech seemed to take a slight hit when he was nervous¡­ a frequent state around their father.

    ¡°See you later. If you look for me, I¡¯ll be looking around for a library. Oh, and knowing the asshole, he¡¯ll stop here to pick us up, remember.¡± Stacy refused to call the man ¡®father¡¯ or ¡®dad¡¯ unless in a mocking tone.

    The man hadn¡¯t acted like a father to her since as far as she could remember, and she remembered having to ¡®potty¡¯ train herself since she was four years old wearing diapers.

    Yeah, her lifestyle hadn¡¯t helped her mentality, if anything; she blamed all her problems, of which she had a lot, on the asshole.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t call him that¡­¡± Mike warned meekly as he walked away, after looking across the very empty road for cars, just like Stacy taught him.

    He was already ten, but he still acted younger, something that was probably attributed to whatever mental condition caused his speech problems¡­ not that they knew what it was, the asshole couldn¡¯t afford to even get that checked out.

    Which was bull, since there should be a government fund for that somewhere, but he probably didn¡¯t want to get caught out on having kids and not being able to pay for them.

    That got attention, that got Stacy and Mike put into orphanages, likely separated, and the asshole would stop getting money from a government grant for the unemployed who had to take care of ill people.

    Stacy was his ¡®ill person¡¯ with her history of depression, self-harm, anger, and the one or two times she tried to kill herself.

    The first time failed because she was eight and couldn¡¯t tie a proper knot of all things.

    Stacy shook her head, trying to take her mind away from the asshole and all the ways he failed both her and Mike, instead trying to think about all the stuff she got up to that got her expelled from the last school¡­

    It was not her fault a guy trying to cop a feel couldn¡¯t take the heat¡­ literally she used the spray-flamethrower trick on his head.

    The guy had to get all his hair cut off, and obviously she nearly went to juvenile for assault, though they were lenient with her previous mental issues enough to simply state that she had to go to another school.

    In a different country¡­ okay, lenient wasn¡¯t the right term.

    Lost in thought, Stacy arrived at the library, a small smile on her face, even if the building was slightly aged, it just added authenticity.

    Books¡­ it was the land of no emotion beyond those of a character in a story, how lovely¡­ surely books were better.

    The characters in a book couldn¡¯t hate you after all.

    <hr>

    Side Mike

    Mike watched his sister walk away from the sidewalk with a small frown on his face.

    He loved his sister, he really did, but she always seemed angry with their dad¡­ he didn¡¯t quite get why, but she always said he¡¯d understand someday.

    Mike thought he didn¡¯t quite want to understand if it meant hating someone. He didn¡¯t like the idea of not liking someone so much you want them to get hurt.

    Other people didn¡¯t like him like that though¡­ at his old school, there were boys who hated him, he thought. He wasn¡¯t sure, but they tripped him, stole his books, shoved him¡­Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    A lot of that sounded like they hated him.

    Mike didn¡¯t like that, he didn¡¯t think he could hate someone if that was what it meant¡­ he wasn¡¯t sure he could ever do that to another person, it felt horrible after all.

    Even the girls joined in, though they did stuff like stick bubble-gum in his hair, or pretend to stutter around him, and once they took his lunch.

    Not as obvious as the boys, but his sister eventually told him that meant bullying, and bullying was when you hated someone different, or weaker than you.

    It was a bit complicated for Mike, but he got it, they hated him.

    So yeah¡­ Mike wasn¡¯t sure he could hate someone. It seemed like too much effort, not to mention it hurt someone¡­ being hurt didn¡¯t feel nice, so they probably also wouldn¡¯t like it.

    Hopefully, if there were children in this park, they wouldn¡¯t hate him?

    Walking up to the park, he found three children, one boy a bit bigger, one boy younger, and one girl roughly his age, the three were just kicking a ball between the three of them lazily.

    Mike¡¯s appearance did disturb them though, as all three looked to Mike.

    Mike shyly waved as he hoped he didn¡¯t stutter¡­ he always stuttered worse when meeting new people.

    ¡°H-h-hi¡­¡± well, there went that idea.

    The three children all smiled slightly, their dark eyes narrowing a bit as they each waved at the same time, their mouths opening at the same time.

    ¡°Hi.¡± Mike felt it was weird, but he didn¡¯t mind, glad that they were at least nice enough to greet back.

    ¡°I-I-I¡¯m M-M-Mike. I-I-I¡¯m staying i-i-in town f-f-for an hour. I-I-Is i-it alright i-if I play with you?¡± he stuttered quite a bit, meeting new children, but they seemed to not mind as all three nodded, in sequence from the eldest to the youngest.

    ¡°Sure.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± All three spoke as they nodded, and Mike just smiled, thinking it was a neat trick, that they could all talk and do their actions at the same time, or just after each other.

    ¡°Play with me.¡± all three spoke, and Mike giggled a bit, wondering why the three all seemed to want him to play with one of them alone¡­

    He wished he had friends who he could do tricks like that talking together thing with.

    Unfortunately, Mike was not quite able to understand the eerie nature of the three children with the same eyes and grin.

    He also didn¡¯t know how weird it was that they kept passing the ball between them without even looking at it¡­

    But he just thought that was another cool thing about these three children¡­

    Even their mismatching old timey clothes were cool, to Mike at least.

    <hr>

    Side Oliver

    ¡°Hey, thanks for letting me use your bathroom.¡± Oliver thanked the gas-station attendant after towelling off his hands¡­ probably shouldn¡¯t tell the guy his soap was ruined.

    ¡°No problem, I¡¯ve had times where I needed a while to finish my business too.¡± Oliver was pretty sure the guy wasn¡¯t talking about the same business Oliver meant, but hey, silence is golden.

    Or some bull like that¡­ he didn¡¯t quite know if he got that right.

    ¡°But man, I got to say, I¡¯m really thankful gas prices are so low around here.¡± And wasn¡¯t that the truth, it was usually almost three dollars a gallon, but here in this town it was still just a dollar.

    ¡°Oh is it? Well, too late for me to charge you, but how much is it these days? We don¡¯t get much news from out of town, considering we¡¯re of a quiet folk.¡± The man said from his chair, though he gave a warning glance at Oliver when Oliver patted a box of cigarettes in his hands¡­

    Right, explosive materials and fire obviously don¡¯t go together unless he was trying to be part of an action movie.

    ¡°Oh sorry¡­ uh, yeah, it¡¯s almost three dollars now.¡± Oliver didn¡¯t care that explaining this to the guy would cause gas prices to jump in this town, Oliver wasn¡¯t ever going to visit this town again, so what did it matter to him?

    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s quite a jump since ninety nine¡­¡± Oliver blinked at the man¡¯s words, looking at the man again, and noting the man didn¡¯t look much older than twenty.

    And it was twenty eighteen, which meant the guy would have just been born maybe two years before then.

    ¡°Sorry, did you say nineteen ninety nine?¡± Oliver asked as the man blinked, shaking his head.

    ¡°Oh, sorry about that, I¡¯m talking about my pa, he owns this place, so he set the price back then and hasn¡¯t changed it since.¡± The guy corrected with a wave of his hand, and Oliver shrugged, probably a slip of the tongue.

    ¡°Well, thanks for everything then¡­ say, you know how to get out of this town? I¡¯m heading for Canada with my kids.¡± Internally Oliver loathed calling the brats so nicely, but appearances were to be upheld.

    ¡°Wonder why you¡¯d ever want to leave, but sure¡­ the road you stopped by, when you came into the town? You won¡¯t get out if you follow it forward or back, you¡¯d best leave through grass paths if you want to get out.¡± Oliver frowned waving the man off.

    ¡°Nice joke there man, so basically follow the road right? Thanks for the help.¡± Oliver said, getting into his truck as he started it up to go drive around the town for a bit.

    He didn¡¯t see the attendant frown and shake his head, looking most regretful as Oliver drove away.

    ¡°Poor guy¡­ I warned him.¡± the attendant stated, his eyes suddenly glazing over as he reached behind him, pulling out a newspaper and ruffling it.

    As he did so, if one was there, they would see the date, nineteen thirty four, and they would probably be confused.

    <hr>

    Side Stacy

    ¡°This library doesn¡¯t have a good selection of fiction, huh?¡± Stacy mumbled to herself as she walked amongst the shelves, looking for anything from the year two thousand or later.

    Her search was proving fruitless, and she just sighed, recalling the librarian.

    The old man had seemed surprised at her appearance, immediately pegging her as a traveller heading through the town, just stopping by for a quick read.

    The man seemed to approve, as she walked up, asking where the fiction section was¡­ the man had told her that it was not exactly worth looking for, and he recommended she look amongst the history section.

    She disliked reading about dead people, let alone horrors like the works of the great King or Lovecraft, though she didn¡¯t mind Poe as much since most of his works were poems.

    Something about such knowledge freaked her out, so Stacy disliked them, instead preferring fantasy or science fiction over supernatural stuff. History was just marginally better, since it didn¡¯t go into detail on how people died most of the time.

    Seeing the abysmal amount of fiction, Stacy decided to try and take the old man¡¯s advice, and walked up the history section¡­

    Which was likewise empty, with the exception of one shelf¡­ this library was turning out to be very disappointing in Stacy¡¯s opinion.

    Nonetheless, she walked forward, and scanned the shelf, looking at the boring titles until she came across a book without a title on the spine.

    Normally ignoring such books, she figured that she might as well give it a try this time, and removed it from the shelf, turning to see the cover.

    The Sanguine.

    It probably spoke about the town itself, or perhaps its inhabitants?

    ¡°That is a good book.¡± Stacy gave a yelp of shock as she turned to see the old librarian who just looked out of his foggy glasses at her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t scare me like that!¡± She shouted as quietly as she could, given that she was in a library, but that wasn¡¯t very quiet.

    The librarian responded to her shout with a simple raised eyebrow before he sighed, shaking his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m not scary, little one. But to each their own¡­ the book you chose is a good one. Do not read it yet though.¡± The librarian said making Stacy blink as she narrowed her eyes.

    ¡°Not now? I¡¯m not staying in this town for long you know, I won¡¯t have time to come here and read this book.¡± Stacy said, leaving the man to chuckle as he walked away.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll stay, and you¡¯ll be back, and then you¡¯ll want to read the book then. Don¡¯t read it now. It won¡¯t change anything.¡± The man stated, his owl-like glasses peering at Stacy with a knowing look.

    The problem was that Stacy had no idea what the librarian ¡®knew¡¯ about her.

    ¡°I think that you¡¯re wrong.¡± Stacy said, even as she tried to edge away from the librarian¡­ he didn¡¯t go closer, instead extending a thin arm, with fingers thin like the limbs of a spider or something.

    ¡°And that¡¯s the mistake of most people who come into this town. They are so quick to share their thoughts¡­ but the value of something is higher the less who possess it.¡± The librarian flexed his fingers, a crack or two making Stacy wince¡­

    Stacy got the idea from his actions, handing over the book as the man tucked it under his arm, not returning it back to its perch.

    ¡°What do you mean, by value?¡± Stacy was by now more than a little freaked out, and definitely wanted to leave the library, and yet she felt some need to remain, a need to verify her questions.

    ¡°Thoughts, I mean. If they are your thoughts, they have value. But when you share your thoughts, they aren¡¯t yours anymore. They are now known by others, and so it is the thought of the collective.¡± The librarian¡¯s words were calm and steady, in contrast with his appearance which looked like he could be blown over by a tiny gust of wind.

    ¡°That¡¯s a strange way of looking at it. Most people are praised for being able to share their thoughts freely.¡± Stacy said, getting a chuckle from the librarian as he turned.

    ¡°And those who praise are the smart ones, for they found a way to take the thoughts of others for no cost.¡± The librarians words got Stacy thinking, even as he vanished into the darkness.

    She didn¡¯t hear his footsteps after that.

    She walked away, leaving the library confused and introspective, considering her thoughts and her previous actions over her life.

    She didn¡¯t get much chance to do so before she found herself at the meeting spot where she was supposed to wait for her ¡®father¡¯ and her younger brother.

    Mark was soon there, running and huffing heavily, worried he¡¯d be late and get Oliver angry¡­ he didn¡¯t like making his father angry, and Stacy wasn¡¯t sure why Mark cared.

    As soon as she was eighteen, she was leaving the passive abusive asshole in her opinion¡­

    And there she became depressed again.

    ¡°Hey there Mike, did you have fun while we were away from our sperm donor?¡± Stacy didn¡¯t care for keeping Mike ¡®innocent¡¯ because frankly the fact that he was despite living with Oliver was amazing.

    She didn¡¯t think anything she said would destroy his innocence when living with Oliver couldn¡¯t do so.

    ¡°I-I don¡¯t think you should be so m-m-mean with dad.¡± Mike¡¯s pout was adorable and healed Stacy¡¯s soul in her opinion. There was just something about being adorable that made one forgive everything and feel happy.

    Stacy wouldn¡¯t stay happy for long, but at least Mike was her anchor in the waves of turmoil that was her depression and anxiety from living with Oliver.

    She had gotten really good at hiding the last one from the cause, but when she was away from him she ended up wanting to drink or smoke, anything to take her mind off.

    ¡°I¡¯m mean with him because he¡¯s a bad dad Mike. Anyone would tell you that if they knew how we lived with him.¡± Stacy reminded, and Mike frowned, but said nothing.

    They stood in silence for about three minutes before Oliver¡¯s car pulled up next to the sidewalk, allowing his children into the car.

    ¡°Alright, now to leave the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. Brats, we¡¯re never coming here again.¡± Oliver¡¯s complaints were ignored by Stacy and Mike just looked a bit lost at why his father was angry at this place.

    ¡°What happened, stub your toe while bending over in the bathroom?¡± Stacy¡¯s words were ignored by Oliver just as much as she didn¡¯t care for his complaints.

    ¡°Dad, why i-is this place bad?¡± Oliver tried to limit his stutter as much as possible¡­ but it still ended up annoying Oliver, that was just not going to change.

    ¡°It¡¯s empty and boring. No good place to sleep, no entertainment, and there are way too few people for a town this big.¡± Oliver¡¯s complaints all came down to the same thing after Stacy thought about it.

    He was basically complaining that there were no whores or fun people to hang out with¡­ all three of his complaints went into that one problem.

    ¡°It¡¯s a weird place.¡± Stacy did not agree exactly, but just added her own observation of the place¡­

    Well, she was only really by the library, but that was enough for her to consider this place messed up.

    ¡°Huh¡­ you¡¯re right there.¡± Oliver said as the car turned onto the main road of the town, the one that headed both in and out of the town on opposite sides.

    As he turned, he didn¡¯t notice the gas station attendant looking at their car with a sad glance and a shake of the head.

    ¡°I-I-I think it¡¯s n-nice.¡± Mike thought to the three children he played with¡­ he couldn¡¯t remember getting their names, but they were amazing, they were really good at hide and seek.

    Outside the window of the car, no one saw three children wearing very old fashioned clothes looking at the car. No one saw how the three smiled simultaneously, their deep dark eyes twinkling.

    ¡°Let¡¯s compare then, if it¡¯ll actually keep me from being bored.¡± Oliver said with a sigh as they drove slowly, the speed-limit in the town ridiculously low.

    And even if he was rude, Oliver didn¡¯t want to go to jail for speeding, let alone a jail in a boring town like this.

    ¡°Well I-I-I played with three other kids. They seemed n-n-nice, they were really good at passing to each other. They could do i-it without even looking!¡± Mike was amazed.

    Oliver just shrugged, while Stacy blinked in confusion as his words.

    ¡°Eh, by the gas station there wasn¡¯t any lube but soap.¡± Stacy¡¯s look of disgust was a contrast to Mike¡¯s look of confusion.

    ¡°Disgusting.¡± Stacy¡¯s statement was ignored as Oliver continued talking.

    ¡°Oh, and the prices were really low. Like nineteen thirties or so low. And the gas station¡¯s grandpa set the price and never changed it apparently.¡± That didn¡¯t seem too bad, though how a town didn¡¯t know about changed rates was a mystery¡­

    Stacy still considered it strange as she thought to her own encounter.

    ¡°The library was empty. It only had a ton of old books about things before world war two. And a history book about the town¡­ didn¡¯t get a chance to read it though.¡± Stacy admitted with a bit of annoyance, and Oliver looked at the rear-view mirror, seeing a large trailer truck turning into a different road.

    The only thing he managed to make out about the truck, other than the black front and white trailer, was the white words on the trailer¡­

    Deliverer.

    Seemed like an odd name for a delivery company, but hey, FedEx existed, and Oliver had no idea what that stood for.

    Seeing the truck reminded Oliver of what the gas station attendant told him though, making him snort derisively as he remembered the warning.

    Stick to the woods area? His car wasn¡¯t a Jeep, it wasn¡¯t made for that kind of driving, and that sounded silly in the first place.

    It didn¡¯t stop Oliver from mentioning the story to his children who were confused on it.

    Stacy looked worried though, recalling the words of the librarian¡­

    She would be back? She¡¯d stay?

    ¡°Oh, the other children I-I was playing with said that n-n-no one leaves the town.¡± Mike¡¯s words only furthered the worry Stacy possessed.

    Oliver ignored the signs of disturbance though with a sigh.

    ¡°Those kids were probably right. I mean, that town is so empty and boring, there are probably very few people who enter or leave that place." Oliver didn¡¯t know it, but his words were only making Stacy more scared.

    ¡°¡­no one leaves¡­ don¡¯t take the road¡­ we will be back¡­¡± Stacy¡¯s words were too quiet to be heard as she happened to look up and see a sign.

    At first glance, it was similar to the one shown when one enters the town.

    A second glance would kill that train of thought and leave one pale.

    You can¡¯t leave Sanguine. You will stay.

    Stacy had barely begun to open her mouth to tell her asshole of a father about what she had just seen, when the truck hit them.

    It had come from in front of them, out of nowhere, the headlights suddenly on in front of their faces before the collision.

    Were they to look at the trailer of this truck, they would find only one word.

    Deliverer.

 Chapter 2- The Slowest Rate

    Pain.

    It was a sensation many were familiar with, and those who were unfamiliar with the sensation were most likely long dead.

    It was a welcome sensation, a necessary sensation. Without the sense of pain, one would be uncertain to their own existence¡­

    Pain, as much as it was a ¡®bad¡¯ thing, defined living. The absence of pain was known as dying.

    This was much more philosophical than the thoughts currently going through Oliver¡¯s head.

    A more accurate account of what he would be thinking could be summed up with a very select vocabulary of swear words about the pain his eyes were going through as he tried to open them, instead meeting blinding light.

    It was only a solid minute after that, and rolling off of whatever bed he was on, that Oliver managed to open his eyes without feeling pain.

    He was still in pain due to landing on his forehead though, now curling up and clenching his skull.

    Somewhere within the din of pain he heard laughter, the sound of which was grating and felt like needles in his head.

    Or a heavy hangover¡­ he was used to the latter of the two options, and this felt slightly worse.

    ¡°I see you¡¯re awake. Good. You can leave.¡± The voice spoke, old and male, and Oliver took a few moments to try and stand, stumbling a bit as he grabbed for the¡­ cot?

    Better known as a hospital bed, Oliver looked around seeing the plain white of the area, now having a surety in his thoughts that he was in a hospital.

    Where this hospital was and how long he was there¡­ he didn¡¯t know the answers¡­

    The last thing he remembered was trying to leave that town¡­

    It was only after the voice cleared its throat that he looked to the source, seeing an old man in a doctor¡¯s coat, stethoscope stereotypically hung around the neck.

    The man was old, the wrinkles almost like the contours of a topographical map, but beyond that, the man was relatively normal.

    Normal if one ignored that the doctor had what looked like cloth bandages covering his eyes. Considering that, he was weird.

    ¡°Where am I? And¡­ how long have I been here?¡± Oliver paused for a moment, though the old man allowed Oliver to continue his thoughts before he nodded to himself.

    ¡°And¡­ do you know where my children are?¡± Oliver had the belief that he came first. If he had to pick between his children and himself, he¡¯d pick himself every time.

    But if he could help them out, he would. Asshole he may be, but they were his children.

    ¡°Three questions for three answers, I suppose I¡¯ll support you in that sense.¡± The doctor said as he walked over to the window, seemingly peering out of it.

    But once more, let it be said that this man was blindfolded and shouldn¡¯t be able to see, unless the cloth was sheer and he didn¡¯t really have an issue with his eyesight.

    ¡°For your first question on your location, you are inside the only medical practice in Sanguine, the Red Clinic.¡± The man gestured to himself with a palm facing his heart.

    ¡°You have been here for a day after you were in an accident involving a truck crashing into your car. This is the answer to your second question on time, though the answer is relative.¡± Oliver found himself getting more and more confused as the doctor talked, the man was confusing to a large extent.

    What was all this about ¡®time being relative¡¯ and¡­ there was a moment of confusion.

    ¡®A day after you were in an accident involving a truck crashing into your car.¡¯ These were the words the doctor just said¡­

    No one got out of a situation like that uninjured, even if it was barely a knock on the side, there were cases of sprained necks, broken bones, death was normal, for all that he wasn¡¯t the sharpest tool in the shed, Oliver knew this.

    So why was it that, other than a sense of grogginess when he woke up, he was completely fine?

    ¡°Oh, and to your third question, I know not where your children may be. You were the only one to be brought to me.¡± The doctor admitted, and that worried Oliver¡­

    If his children were dead¡­ that was the only reason why they wouldn¡¯t be with him, isn¡¯t it?

    ¡°Judging by the expression on your face, I assume you¡¯re worried about their health? Do not worry, the Undertaker is a friend of mine, he hasn¡¯t mentioned any recent burials or need for any.¡± The Doctor tried to calm Oliver down, but the words did not have that effect.

    Partially because of the bandages on the doctor¡¯s face, that he saw Oliver¡¯s expression meant that those bandages did not in fact stop the doctor from seeing.

    Also because the doctor was friends with the Undertaker of the town¡­ that implied something about this doctor¡­ that there were often people who died, or that autopsies were done here, either was a bit worrying to Oliver, just on principle.

    ¡°Okay¡­ thanks for your help I guess¡­ I didn¡¯t get your name though?¡± Oliver asked, his persona of a kind father showing through slightly in how he talked.

    It didn¡¯t seem to trick the doctor who chuckled at the politer speech.

    ¡°Oh you poor child¡­ my name isn¡¯t that important, but you can call me Van.¡± The name sounded strange to Oliver, sounding like van but with an ¡®h¡¯ included, creating a ¡®V-ah-n¡¯ name.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°¡­You¡¯ve been pitying me for a while now¡­¡± Oliver¡¯s words were an attempt to convey how annoyed he was at Van¡¯s tone and manner of speaking.

    Van didn¡¯t care though and just chuckled, his smile showing a glint of sharp teeth- wait what?

    Looking again, Oliver figured it was a trick of the eyes, and besides, staring at someone¡¯s teeth was a strange thing to do.

    ¡°When you see a lion cub walking around like a king in front of the adults, don¡¯t you feel pity for the child when it tries to challenge the elders?¡± Van¡¯s question confused Oliver who just shrugged in return.

    He didn¡¯t quite get that he was the cub in the analogy, but even if he didn¡¯t, he wouldn¡¯t get who the ¡®elders¡¯ were either.

    ¡°Whatever¡­ you said I could leave though, right?¡± Oliver asked again, and Van nodded, picking up a page and ¡®staring¡¯ at it.

    ¡°Yes, as far as I am aware, you are dying at the slowest rate possible.¡± The grim tone of the statement had Oliver worried for a while until Ban began to chuckle.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look so worried, it¡¯s just another way of saying ¡®healthy¡¯ because that¡¯s all that it is. Being healthy is just dying really slow.¡± Oliver never thought about it like that¡­

    ¡°I guess it is¡­ so I¡¯m healthy, I can leave?¡± Oliver pointed to the door on the side, getting a shrug from Van.

    ¡°I can¡¯t keep you here¡­ How I wish I could though¡­ Type-O blood is rare, and we don¡¯t always have any in stock.¡± Van¡¯s knowledge of Oliver¡¯s blood-type was acceptable, if the guy was checking for his safety and such then it made sense to know that information.

    But the wanting for more blood was a definite oddity.

    Even that could be explained away because of the rarity of O-type blood, the universal donor type.

    But needing more of it¡­ why?

    ¡°Uh, are blood donations needed a lot in this town?¡± Oliver¡¯s concern was starting to come out a bit more¡­ he was also thinking about how Stacy seemed to be a bit worried during the drive out the town for some reason.

    Given that they got into a crash, maybe her worry was justified? Maybe¡­

    It seemed far-fetched if you asked Oliver, lots of tiny hints as to ¡®you are going to get knocked over by a truck¡¯ just didn¡¯t happen, it made no sense as an occurrence.

    ¡°More often than you¡¯d think, especially considering the Red Clinic functions primarily as a blood transfusion centre.¡± The words, coupled with Van smirking had Oliver freaked out, not noticing the sharper incisors in that smile.

    ¡°Right¡­ well, I¡¯m not donating any, sorry. But, before I leave¡­ I wanted to ask, what is up with the bandages, do you have¡­ uh, light sensitivity I think it was?¡± Oliver wasn¡¯t certain on the phrase, he¡¯d only seen it once or twice in Stacy¡¯s biology textbooks.

    Again, she was a surprisingly smart kid for someone with her problems.

    ¡°Light sensitivity¡­ sure, let¡¯s go with that. I have other reasons, but I do have the aforementioned issue.¡± Van accepted the excuse, but admitted that it was only part of the reason for the bandages.

    ¡°Well, not to complain after you helped me out, but if you¡¯re going to be a doctor shouldn¡¯t you show your patients that you¡¯re fine?¡± Oliver¡¯s question was a worthwhile one.

    It was part of the reason why doctors were typically fit and healthy, they knew what was bad and avoided those things.

    Another reason was because doctors were rich and therefore had the option of eating only balanced meals and having gym-memberships and all that, but let¡¯s focus on the other explanation rather.

    Basically, if your doctor had a problem, you¡¯d subconsciously think that ¡®hey, he can¡¯t fix his own problem, how could he fix mine?¡¯ and you¡¯d distrust the doctor.

    ¡°Oh I¡¯m fine, this is just part of the culture here in Sanguine. It¡¯s rare to find someone who doesn¡¯t wear these.¡± Van admitted, stroking the fabric above his eyes, a creepy action in Oliver¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s part of the culture¡­ why? I mean, what does it mean, and why do you do it?¡± Oliver asked, remembering being tutored by Stacy¡¯s mom.

    Most of those lessons quickly turned vulgar, but one or two things he remembered, one was that ¡®when giving a presentation involving a question, clarify the question as much as possible¡¯. He mostly remembered that because it was called an ¡®oral¡¯ presentation, and he was happy about that first bit at the time.

    Thinking back, ignoring that Stacy happened, he considered himself a lucky bastard when he was a teen.

    ¡°It¡¯s that saying, the eyes are the window to the soul. We in Sanguine take the saying very seriously, and the only time someone doesn¡¯t wear blindfolds is when they are free of emotional dilemma, or around people they trust.¡± That got a raised eyebrow from Oliver, who at this point was obviously assuming that Van could see through the cloth on his face.

    ¡°You know, I met a gas station attendant who didn¡¯t wear them¡­ And considering you¡¯re wearing them, doesn¡¯t that mean you have issues?¡± Oliver was quick to accuse, though he made sure to not shout or anything like that.

    Oliver caught on a lot of shit as a kid, and somewhere along the line he got better at keeping away from issues, or at least hiding his involvement.

    ¡°Ah, the Attendant, he¡¯s proud to be as he is, and so doesn¡¯t care if others look into his soul.¡± Somehow, Oliver didn¡¯t feel as if that was said as a joke¡­

    ¡°And for myself¡­ I have my issues, I know I do. I have yet to be strong enough to deal with others knowing them though.¡± Van said with a frown, messaging his temples for a moment.

    ¡°There are also people in town who¡­ consider them important, like the Mayor and a few others. They do not care for wearing blindfolds because they¡¯d just look into the eyes of the person trying.¡± Oliver didn¡¯t get it, scratching his head with a sigh as he got his shoes out from under the bed.

    Putting them on, he was getting ready to leave as he continued to converse with the creepy doctor.

    ¡°I think I don¡¯t need it¡­ it¡¯s your culture, not mine.¡± Oliver thought his words were being even, but in fact they were slightly insulting.

    Van had a small smile come onto his pallid face while he chuckled at Oliver¡¯s words.

    ¡°Ah, well¡­ it¡¯s your choice, and I can¡¯t force you to wear one. Just beware staring into the eyes of those who don¡¯t wear blindfolds¡­ there¡¯s another saying Sanguine follows.¡± Van said as Oliver was about to leave out the door, making the man turn to look at the doctor.

    ¡°If you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back. Take care that you don¡¯t look¡­¡± The doctor said as Oliver closed the door, too disturbed by the words to try continuing the conversation.

    Left alone in the room, the ¡®doctor¡¯ turned to the window, unwrapping the cloth from his eyes, waiting for something¡­

    Within a moment, the door was opened, and he turned, looking to a nurse walking in¡­ of course, Oliver was not allowed to see this nurse, especially given that ¡®she¡¯ was a dried out husk with red eyes.

    ¡°Ah, bring it here please.¡± The Doctor spoke, discarding the name he thought up on the spot to give to Oliver as the decaying corpse he used as a nurse walked closer.

    In the slightly shaking hands of the corpse was a vial, within which was a red liquid, the life-source, blood, taken from Oliver during his sleep.

    ¡°Before taking this to The Origin, I¡¯ll weigh it.¡± The Doctor¡¯s words were spoken aloud in the case that any of his fellow zealots were listening in¡­

    The Doctor was not the highest power amongst the zealots of The Origin, but he was notably high. The only beings capable of monitoring him without his notice would be his superiors.

    Taking the vial and removing the cork, the Doctor allowed one drop to touch his extended tongue, tasting the life essence of the man he ¡®healed¡¯.

    The moment the drop touched his tongue, the Doctor was rejuvenated, no longer taking the appearance of an old man, now a rugged man in his late twenties or early thirties as he hummed in thought.

    ¡°Not a virgin obviously given his children, and polluted through a life of debauchery, the essence of this blood was acceptable at one point, but is now tainted¡­ he is worth little to us.¡± The Doctor determined as he looked out the window to see Oliver walking away.

    Oliver didn¡¯t feel the gaze of the Old One, and he would be thankful for it¡­

    The beastly red eyes and sharp fangs would be denied by Oliver¡­ for there was no way a being such as the Doctor could exist in a normal world.

    But unfortunately for Oliver, this world was not normal, and the Doctor did exist¡­

    The only silver-lining was that Oliver was dying at the slowest rate possible.

 Chapter 3- Advice of a Sheriff

    When Mike awoke after the crash, it was in a very different situation when compared to his father.

    For one, he felt much less pain than Oliver, and unlike Oliver, he didn¡¯t wake up in a bed, but instead found himself waking up in the park he was playing at in Sanguine.

    Unlike Oliver, Mike immediately recognized his surroundings, recalling the children he had seen playing there before¡­

    But the day looked to be starting, and Mike couldn¡¯t see his sister or his father anywhere near him¡­

    So like any child, this worried him, even if he wouldn¡¯t immediately admit to it.

    Looking around for a moment, Mike began to walk out of the park, not noticing the shadows of the park extending slightly, a large amount of ghostly white eyes staring from the shadows.

    Mike remained ignorant to the stares as he walked out of the park, seeing a man hunched over near a building.

    ¡°Um, excuse m-m-me, but do you k-k-know where m-m-my f-f-family i-is?¡± Mike¡¯s question was laced with stutters, and he had hoped that it would get the man he was talking to angry¡­

    He had been warned about talking to strangers, but in a strange new place, everyone was a stranger, and he needed help.

    He needn¡¯t worry about how angry the stranger would be, given that when the ¡®man¡¯ turned to look at Mike, his eyes were covered in bandages¡­

    And then the ¡®man¡¯ began to scream, his features distorting as the jaw unhinged before splitting in two, blood dripping from the serrated teeth lining the inside of said ¡®mouth¡¯ as the ¡®man¡¯ growled at Mike.

    Mike was screaming by the time the man had turned and had bandages across his face, this was just making it worse as Mike turned and attempted to run away.

    He didn¡¯t get very far, as Mike wasn¡¯t athletic at all, and the monster, for it was no man, was larger and clearly faster than the young Mike.

    Feeling something grab his collar, Mike immediately assumed he was going to get very hurt (die) and closed his eyes in an effort to brace himself for pain (death).

    A gunshot sound went off, and suddenly Mike was dropped back onto the pavement, skinning his knees as he curled into a ball out of fear, not catching the thudding sound of the monster as it fell to the floor, no longer possessing a head.

    ¡°Hey¡­ get up. Get up kid, I don¡¯t have all day to be watching you.¡± The voice spoke, and it terrified Mike immediately. It was deep, rumbling, the kind you knew didn¡¯t belong in a human but instead something greater (terrifying) and Mike risked a glance in the direction of the voice.

    Humanoid, just like the monster that attacked Mike just a second ago, wearing what looked to be a cowboy hat and a sheriff¡¯s badge, a revolver in the being¡¯s gloved right hand.

    The head of the being terrified Mike, a beak like mask filled with tiny slits, fog seeming to roil out of the mask and a pair of goggles, it was a strange, alien appearance for the being.

    ¡°Hey, I caught you looking at me. Get up. Can¡¯t have a normal human sitting on the floor out in the middle of town¡­ especially near the Unwanted and its territory¡­¡± Mike didn¡¯t know what an ¡®Unwanted¡¯ was, but given how this guy (thing) didn¡¯t want Mike near the Unwanted, and he (it) had saved Mike, Mike was inclined to listening to this guy (thing) if he wanted to live.

    ¡°Uh¡­ yes sir¡­¡± Mike sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his knees as he stood, following silently behind the scary man (creature) with the gun.

    They continued their walk in silence, the Sheriff clearly comfortable with the silence and Mike too scared to speak and possible get shouted at or hurt, given how the Sheriff had shot that man (thing) that attacked Mike.

    A few minutes after they started walking they arrived in front of a building with the sign ¡®Sheriff¡¯s Office¡¯ written above the door, signalling that this was where they were moving.

    Walking inside the office behind the scary man (Being) Mike watched as he (it) pulled back a chair behind a desk and sat down, and with a snap of his fingers, a chair appeared for Mike¡­

    If whatever that was could be classed as a chair, given that it seemed to be crafted out of a strange dull grey/white material that Mike found oddly recognisable (bones, it was made of bones)

    With a pointed look at Mike, the Sheriff conveyed his desire by pointing at the chair. ¡°Sit.¡±

    Mike sat, not wanting the Sheriff to talk for too long, the Sheriff had a really scary voice after all¡­ and while Mike was surprised at the appearance of a chair from nothing (It grew from the ground) he felt that the being (not man, not human) that placed it there was more attention grabbing.

    ¡°Okay¡­ clearly, you are not a Resident of Sanguine¡­ if you were, you¡¯d have walked off a Resident attacking you, or at the very least you¡¯re new in town.¡± The voice of the Sheriff hurt to listen to, sounding like a beast growling in your ear, or a piece of glass breaking in the same room¡­Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Those two sounds didn¡¯t quite go together, but that was the best Mike could explain it.

    ¡°Um, Yes¡­ I-I-I¡¯m going to Canada with m-m-my f-f-family¡­ I-I don¡¯t know where they are¡­¡± Mike admitted with a frown, getting a nod from the Sheriff.

    ¡°I see, you were a traveller¡­ it¡¯s a bit sad to admit, but you¡¯re likely not going to be able to leave Sanguine.¡± The Sheriff¡¯s words got a worried look from Mike, and seeing that he (it) had to elaborate, he (it) continued.

    ¡°You already saw one, a Resident of Sanguine¡­ everyone in this place is similar to that in one way or another, some worse, some better.¡± Mike looked terrified at that acknowledgement before looking at the door¡­ then back to the Sheriff with fear in his eyes.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m just like the being that attacked you. The difference being that I still possess the capability of thought. I¡¯m going to be giving you a crash course on the way things are in Sanguine.¡± The Sheriff said, pointing to the left.

    To the Sheriff¡¯s left was a chalk board, and little by little writing began to appear on the board in a strange script.

    After trying for a moment to understand it, the script seemed to almost snake into comprehension for Mike, now reading as two separate things.

    Residents of Sanguine and Founders.

    ¡°Those two terms separate the people in Sanguine into two groups. The first group, the Residents, can¡¯t think¡­ they¡¯re monsters basically.¡± As the Sheriff said it, images began to flash on the board as if being a projected slide-show, showing another one of what attacked Mike, something without hair and looking stitched together (the lengths were wrong) and finally a dog-like beast.

    ¡°The second term, Founders, describe beings like myself. We Founders retain our intelligence, despite being monsters just like the Residents.¡± The Sheriff raised his (its) hands to the mask and goggles he (it) wore, and removed each¡­

    Revealing a skull, pale purple flames inside of said skull creating purple ¡®eyes¡¯ of fire and every time the Sheriff ¡®breathed¡¯ a small gout of flame left its mouth.

    ¡°As you can see¡­ no one that lives in Sanguine is normal. Sorry kid, but the chance of you making it out of this place alive is pretty much zero, even if I don¡¯t feel like killing you.¡± The Sheriff was blunt in its admission, leaving Mike worried as he looked to the board, noticing another term had appeared.

    ¡°What about Old Ones?¡± Mike asked, trying to move past his fear (beasts can smell fear) and ask about the third term.

    ¡°Ah¡­ Old Ones are beings that created Sanguine. There are four of them, though one hides itself so well most think there are only three¡­¡± The Sheriff, now showing its true appearance that reminded Mike slightly of Ghost Rider (only much more scary) snapped its gloved (bone, no flesh) fingers and four more words appeared on the board.

    ¡°Watcher, Mourner, Unwanted, and Origin. The four Old Ones that rule over Eyes, Hair, Shadows and Blood respectively.¡± Next to the ¡®names¡¯ of the Old Ones appeared their domains, making Mike turn to the Sheriff¡­

    ¡°I-I-Is the Unwanted what lives at the park?¡± Mike asked, scared, but truly needing to know how close he was to dying just a moment ago.

    ¡°The Unwanted is the least known about amongst the four, but the park is one place where the Unwanted rules¡­ I won¡¯t tell you too much, but you need to understand this.¡± The Sheriff pointed to the board, two lines coming down the board separating the terms from each other.

    ¡°The Residents are slaves to the whims of the Old Ones, while Founders each do as they please, and the Old Ones control all of Sanguine bar some Founders. I am one of the few they do not control.¡± The Sheriff seemed pleased with this bit of information, while letting Mike know that the Sheriff was not a part of these ¡®Old Ones¡¯.

    ¡°Listen kid, if you want to survive Sanguine, you won¡¯t be able to do it alone. You need help, help that I won¡¯t be providing. I¡¯m the Sheriff, my job is to simply keep the Residents docile.¡± The Sheriff admitted with a sigh of purple flames before reaching for its revolver, placing it on the table.

    ¡°I can¡¯t help you too much. I am free from the control of the Old Ones, but interfering too much would have me draw their attention. I might be the most dangerous of the Founders, but I¡¯m nothing to an Old One¡­ they are essentially Gods.¡± The Sheriff admitted, placing the revolver on the table.

    ¡°I can help a bit though. Take the Scythe.¡± The words of the Sheriff confused Mike, only afterwards noting that the word ¡®Scythe¡¯ was written in fancy lettering on the barrel of the gun.

    ¡°There are six bullets in it, and that¡¯s it. No more than that. It can kill any being in Sanguine with one shot bar the Old Ones themselves, but that¡¯s only if you hit them. After you fire the sixth shot, the Scythe returns to my side.¡± Mike got the idea, even if he was a bit slow when it came to things like counting.

    Six shots, and Mike would lose the gun¡­ reaching out and having a grasp on the handle, the Scythe vanished, making Mike confused.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry kid, when you need it, you can use it. But that¡¯s all the help I could give you¡­ well, all the help I can bar two bits of advice.¡± The Sheriff said, standing as Mike followed (the chair of bones sunk away) as they walked to the door.

    ¡°Firstly, stay away from the school. Second, don¡¯t go outside Sanguine, lest the Darkness get you.¡± Mike didn¡¯t know what ¡®the Darkness¡¯ was, but it sounded like an Old One like the Unwanted¡­ and given that the Unwanted almost killed Mike without him even knowing¡­

    Mike was scared of the Darkness just based on that fact.

    ¡°Good luck kid¡­ wait, before you leave, what¡¯s your name? I might run into your family too.¡± The Sheriff offered, and Mike nodded, realizing that he really hadn¡¯t introduced himself.

    ¡°M-m-my n-n-name i-is M-M-Mike Cole¡­ I-I-If you see m-my f-f-family, could you let them k-k-know I-I-I¡¯m okay?¡± the Sheriff would have scoffed at the stuttering, but seemed to realize that Mike was not doing it out of nervousness.

    ¡°Alright kid¡­ if I were you, I¡¯d check out the Garage, but I¡¯m not you, so¡­¡± the Sheriff walked inside his office acting as if he was just talking aloud, leaving Mike standing outside with a smile¡­

    Scary as it¡­ he, was, the Sheriff was a nice guy.

    Still terrifying¡­ but a nice guy.

    As Mike walked away, the Sheriff sighed, putting his mask back on, disliking showing his true face¡­

    ¡°Poor kid¡­ marked by the Unwanted as he is, I doubt he¡¯d last much longer¡­ but I can¡¯t help him. Death must be impartial.¡± The Sheriff waited for a moment, just thinking about the situation¡­

    While lost in thought, he heard the bell of his door ringing, prompting the Sheriff to look to the door.

    ¡°Well¡­ I didn¡¯t expect to see someone willingly walk in here¡­ you must be related to that kid, Mike.¡± The Sheriff offered.

    ¡°You know about my brother¡­ where is he?¡± the girl, Stacy Cole, stared at the Sheriff, ignoring the blood slowly flowing down the side of her face.

 Chapter 4- Open your eyes, and eyes, and...

    ¡°AHH!¡± Unlike her family members, Stacy did not wake up peacefully at all, shooting up into a sitting position, looking around in worry and fear.

    Again, unlike her family members, she was well aware of what happened before she woke up¡­

    ¡°Oh God, oh God, didn¡¯t I¡­¡± Stacy began grabbing at her arms, and her sides, surprisingly feeling no pain beyond the sore back of sleeping on the floor¡­

    The floor¡­?

    Moving into a standing position Stacy looked around in confusion.

    As mentioned, she was well aware of what happened before she ¡®fell asleep¡¯ and she recalled the truck knocking them over, and the sign when leaving Sanguine.

    You can¡¯t leave Sanguine. You will stay.

    ¡°What the fuck happened¡­¡± Stacy managed to curse out a bit more as she looked around, taking in her surroundings.

    For one, there was grass, trees, and what might have been a lake.

    The reason it was mentioned as ¡®might have been¡¯ was because water had no right being a deep crimson, smelling faintly of iron and rot, and- oh who was she kidding it was blood.

    After finding a moment to puke her guts out, Stacy looked to the ¡®lake¡¯ again, just to be sure that she was truly ¡®seeing¡¯ what she was looking at.

    And yes, it was still a massive lake of blood.

    ¡°I¡¯d steer clear of the edge if I was you.¡± Stacy leapt back from the source of the voice on instinct¡­ it was the same instinct that told you to step away from the bars to the lion¡¯s cage in a zoo.

    I might die if I¡¯m too close.

    Looking at the source of the voice, Stacy was immediately on guard¡­

    Mike found the best in people, uncaring for how they looked, and instead focusing on how they acted, it was why he would be capable of talking to the Sheriff despite how clearly dangerous the Sheriff was.

    Oliver on the other hand didn¡¯t care for others except himself, if there was any care for others it was only because their wellbeing affected his own in some ways (at least this was how Stacy rationalized it) and he¡¯d ignore oddities without care.

    Stacy was a paranoid person, she¡¯d always be slightly cautious of someone, no matter who they were. Seeing clearly dangerous people got her worried, strange behaviour was similar.

    In other words, between the three members of the Cole family, Stacy was the only one with the mentality to question and fear.

    So she very quickly decided to fear the source of the strange lilting voice, the source being an old man with bandages wrapped over his eyes, a fishing rod in hand.

    ¡°¡­¡± Stacy wouldn¡¯t speak first, instead waiting on the actions of the Fisherman to respond, unwilling to put herself out there so to speak.

    ¡°A cautious one¡­ Ah¡­ I can smell the scent of the spider on you. No wonder.¡± The Fisherman spoke with a dry chuckle, idly reeling in the fish-hook, revealing nothing had bitten the thing¡­

    Probably because there was no bait on it. Probably because he was fishing in blood. Probably because a fish-hook had no business having a pair of eyes on it, blinking and staring with bloodshot glares as the blood of the lake slowly dripped off of it.

    All of the above were good reasons for why nothing bit the thing.

    ¡°Smell a spider¡­ that¡¯s a creepy thing to notice.¡± Stacy said, still weary, not daring to get within a certain range of the Fisherman, recognizing that range as the limit of the fishing rod¡¯s reach.

    ¡°That¡¯s a subjective thing. You think it¡¯s ¡®creepy¡¯ and I think that it¡¯s logical and obvious. So let¡¯s agree to disagree.¡± The Fisherman said, tossing out the hook into the lake of blood with practiced ease.

    ¡°Alright¡­ could you tell me where I am please?¡± Stacy asked, making sure to speak respectfully¡­

    If there was one thing she picked up from living with Oliver, it was that politeness was a requirement in life at some points.

    ¡°You are at the Deep Lake, in the town of Sanguine. I found you inside the lake, and I managed to fish you out.¡± The Fisherman added, making Stacy once more feel the urge to vomit out all of her issues¡­

    She was inside a pool of blood¡­

    ¡°That¡­ is disgusting¡­ but thank you for your help.¡± Stacy said, and the moments the words left her lips was the Fisherman oddly still.

    ¡°Hm¡­ the smell of the spider, cautious, but not cautious enough it seems¡­ as a friend of the spider, let me warn you, do not thank people like me for our help. We¡¯ll hold you to that thanks.¡± The Fisherman turned, looking to Stacy with a bandaged stare.

    In spite of those wraps, Stacy felt as if she was being stared at like a piece of meat on display at the butcher.

    ¡°I see¡­ so me thanking you means that I acknowledge your help, and that I need to help you?¡± Stacy was no idiot.

    Potential drop out she may be, the causes for that situation did not include a lack of intelligence, if anything, her higher than average marks spat in the idea of a problem child being incapable mentally.

    Stacy had bouts of depression, anger, anxiety, and occasionally some mix of the aforementioned things, and that was the reason she had always gotten into trouble.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Yes. No matter what, never acknowledge that you needed help. You won¡¯t survive long in Sanguine if you owe a lot of favours to Founders like myself.¡± The Fisherman¡¯s line suddenly went taut.

    Immediately Stacy recalled the warning, and ran away from the edge of the ¡®water¡¯ and turned to see what the Fisherman could possibly have caught in a lake of blood.

    When the Fisherman flicked his arms up, revealing the thing caught on the line, Stacy¡¯s mind blanked.

    At first, for just a moment, she tried to reason with herself¡­ she tried to believe that she was just looking at a really large bass or something.

    That false belief was erased the moment Stacy considered one of the core things she considered true.

    If you can see it in front of your eyes, it¡¯s true. Even if you can¡¯t explain it.

    Sure, she came up with that when seeing things like one of her classmates being mounted on a desk by an older teacher for higher marks, but it held true for the majority of things¡­

    Stacy had a bad habit of seeing things she wasn¡¯t meant to see¡­ it was no wonder she kept getting into trouble¡­

    But the sheer size of this ¡®fish¡¯ made Stacy reconsider the idea of even looking at things for too long.

    After all, calling the thing a fish was just like calling a Bengal Tiger a cat¡­ basically, it was downplaying the weight of what she was seeing quite a bit.

    Large, rippling scales, the colour of the blood it emerged from, frills on its ¡®neck¡¯ wide like one of those freaky lizards, seven eyes arranged asymmetrically on its large head, and somehow possessing three mouths layered under each other.

    Stacy only realized the last bit because the thing was screaming in pain while the ¡®hook¡¯ was stuck in its mouth.

    ¡°He¡¯s a big one, isn¡¯t he? Isn¡¯t the biggest thing in the lake though.¡± The Fisherman said as if it was a joke, pulling back, whiplashing the thing at the end of his hook like it weighed no more than the chair the Fisherman had originally been sitting on.

    And it looked pretty light by the way¡­ the chair, not the abomination the Fisherman dared to treat like a goldfish.

    With a slam, the thing was slammed into the ground, ink-like blood erupting from its mouth as no doubt its internal organs were pulped from the impact, killing it instantly given the blood flowing down its seven eyes.

    Now that it was closer, Stacy could say with certainty that the head of the thing was bigger than she was¡­ it was larger than a car.

    And the Fisherman said it was not the biggest one.

    ¡°Holy¡­ what the hell are you?¡± Stacy asked, staring to the Fisherman, still not daring to get any closer after witnessing the feat of inhuman strength.

    ¡°I already said it. I¡¯m a Founder of Sanguine¡­ uh, I forgot my name, but everyone calls me the Fisherman. And you, dear child, are apparently a bit new to this place.¡± The being in the shape of a man said with a weary chuckle, creeping out Stacy even more.

    ¡°Sanguine is a place beyond the ken of man¡­ most at least. Some, like yourself, see it for what it truly is and find it terrifying.¡± The Fisherman began to gut the abomination easily.

    ¡°I was like you once, a human with fears and dreams¡­ but I began to see and then things changed¡­ I changed. I stopped ageing, I stopped feeling¡­ and at some point I went to sleep, and woke up as I am now.¡± The Fisherman turned to Stacy, removing his blindfold, terrifying Stacy even more.

    ¡°I am a monster, a disgusting being known as a Founder¡­ the only difference between myself and this fish is that I have intelligence.¡± Indeed, much like the fish, the Fisherman possessed more than two eyes, and in his case there were five, two where the usual ones would be, and then three more revealed when the Fisherman removed his hat, showing his patchwork of hair and gruesome skin, the skin growing out eyes to peer through the matted hair.

    The sight was enough to renew Stacy¡¯s need to vomit, but she held it in, for fear of offending the being.

    ¡°Sanguine is a terrifying, and dangerous place¡­ the only people capable of treating it otherwise are the ignorant and blind. Clearly, you are neither. It makes you interesting, to we Founders.¡± The words of the Fisherman only registered once he hid his features once more.

    ¡°After all, between a horrible truth and a lovely lie, everyone seems to pick the latter¡­ you¡¯re one of the few that don¡¯t fit that group though.¡± The Fisherman warned, and Stacy could tell it was a warning by how the Fisherman held up the blade he used for gutting the beast.

    ¡°Yours is a pitiful existence. You have three options that I can see from here. One, you accept that Sanguine is your new home and slowly lose grip on existence. Two, you go back to the Spider and learn the truth of this place¡­ or three.¡± For the third option, the Fisherman pointed to the nearby woods, a strange absence of colour permeating through the woods¡­ that¡¯s when Stacy saw it.

    It was something different, horrifyingly alien and beyond understanding, as it moved, suddenly towering over the trees, its form hulking and monstrous, the only thing that made sense to Stacy was that it looked as if it was made of ink.

    Watching it move, it flew, it crawled, it slithered, it strode upon two claws, it¡­ willed itself from one point to the next¡­

    Simply gazing upon it hurt the human psyche, and Stacy found an intense pain behind her eyes as she slapped her palms over them, hiding her eyes from the painful thing beyond.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you actually managed to gaze upon its form for that long¡­ but that is your third option.¡± The Fisherman¡¯s words were cut for a moment by a noise¡­

    The closest descriptor for the noise was the screams of men and women as their flesh was being peeled, but as it sounded, it warped to the sound of beasts roaring, of crumbling stone and grating bone¡­

    Then just as suddenly it stopped, completely silent. Hesitation filled Stacy¡¯s frame as she dared glance once more at the thing, disregarding the blood flowing from her tear ducts.

    It was indeed still there, still as incomprehensible as before, seemingly changing and morphing as it existed, yet remaining in the same place, no sound hinting to its position¡­

    Something that¡­ alien, had no right being so silent.

    ¡°The Darkness, is what we who exist in Sanguine call it. It mauls all who step outside of Sanguine, shredding us into a state of non-existence. As powerful as I am to you, I am no more than an ant to that being. Your third option is to feed yourself to it.¡± The Founder was blunt, even as he seemingly ignored the distant monstrosity known as the Darkness.

    ¡°¡­So accept my fate in this horrifying town, find the truth, or kill myself.¡± Stacy offered as the Fisherman began to laugh, an eerie noise.

    ¡°Oh, poor child¡­ dying is both the easiest, and hardest thing to do in Sanguine, depending on your view¡­ But my personal recommendation is to go find the Spider.¡± The Fisherman said, pointing to a slightly hidden path.

    ¡°What about that¡­ thing, the Darkness?¡± Stacy asked, notably trying not to look in the direction of the being that made her mind think about how the smell of the colour orange tasted.

    ¡°It is not capable of entering the boundaries of Sanguine. As long as you are in the vicinity you are safe from it¡­ but not from those who live in Sanguine. Goodbye child.¡± The Fisherman called as Stacy walked away.

    ¡°Such a shame¡­ that she ran into me.¡± The Fisherman¡¯s smile slowly morphed, from the kindly smile into one that was notably predator-like as the being looked into the lake of blood, seeing through it and looking at the Lord of the Lake.

    ¡°There was no rule stating she should listen to my advice, or that I was entirely truthful¡­ if she survives, she¡¯ll have learnt a valuable lesson¡­ if not, well, that would just be her limit, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± The Fisherman spoke to the Lord of the Lake, listening intently for the reply.

    ¡°I suppose you are correct¡­ if she is one who truly sees into Sanguine, then she should survive¡­ if she opens her eyes.¡± The Fisherman once more cast out his line, and all was once more silent.

    The Darkness was gone, the lake of blood once more still, and its caretaker the Fisherman was as still as the lake.

    Waiting, patiently¡­ for the results of his ¡®advice¡¯ to be seen.

 Chapter 5- 162 and 1400

    Oliver¡¯s day was weird.

    Granted, the day before, he was driving his asshole daughter and pussy son to Canada to get his daughter into some education system, because apparently she needed one.

    Then they entered this weird ass town and upon leaving got hit by a truck and somehow separated.

    The day before was kind of weird in itself due to the accident, but today was a bit stranger.

    First, he wakes up in a clinic with extreme pain in his eyes, then his doctor is apparently an old guy who may or may not be part of a cult involving wearing see-through bandages over the eyes, and said doctor was also friends with the undertaker of the town.

    Oh, and as mentioned, Oliver had no idea where Stacy or Mike was.

    So obviously, other than looking for a new method of transportation (to get them to Canada) and the law enforcement of the town (to sue whichever company that truck belonged to) Oliver also had to find his kids.

    The Doctor, Van, was not really helpful, but according to him the undertaker of the town had no new dead bodies so at least they were alive¡­

    That didn¡¯t make it any easier for Oliver to find his kids, but he¡¯d work with it.

    Leaving the clinic, Oliver was walking along the mostly empty streets of the town, occasionally seeing someone shuffling along in the distance as said people would turn corners¡­

    A really small population then.

    ¡°Damn this glare¡­¡± Oliver muttered to himself as he once more blinked, rubbing at his eyes which were in extreme pain every few minutes, those moments of pain were always punctuated with the brightness of the surroundings increasing to Oliver.

    Maybe he got some minor brain damage from the accident? He hoped not, but with all this pain in his eyes he was almost jealous of Van for his bandages.

    Walking past a guy exiting a shop (and ignoring the strange rotten smell from the guy) Oliver looked at the shop¡­

    Uh, Undertaker more like it¡­ huh, they really weren¡¯t far from each other¡­ looking back in the direction of the clinic, Oliver had to keep himself from rubbing his eyes once more¡­

    The clinic looked way further than he recalled walking from¡­ maybe the glare was messing with his depth perception too?

    Hearing a bell, Oliver turned to look at the door of the undertakers parlour only to see a man in a dark red outfit, surgical gloves and mask on as he looked to Oliver.

    ¡°Huh¡­ you don¡¯t look like you need my services¡­ so why are you in front of my shop?¡± the apparent owner, the Undertaker of the town, asked as Oliver blinked, rubbing his eyes as they began to pain once more¡­

    For some reason Oliver thought the Undertaker was burnt for a moment, like skin-melting burnt¡­ but after blinking and looking again, the Undertaker¡¯s skin was pretty normal, as the man with strangely yellow eyes looked at Oliver¡­

    ¡°Nice contacts¡­ uh, sorry, just, I wanted to ask if you¡¯ve seen my kids. My daughter¡¯s a teenager, almost an adult, and my son is still in elementary school.¡± Mike spoke after a moment of confusion on why his thoughts felt so blurry¡­

    So light-headed¡­

    ¡°I believe I did see a girl¡­ yes, I remember speaking to her about an hour or so ago, she was going to the Mayor¡¯s office.¡± The Undertaker offered as he closed the door behind him, pulling out a cigarette.

    Oliver just noticed, but this Undertaker smelt heavily of smoke, like a forest fire in a way.

    ¡°Thanks, we were in an accident yesterday and somehow got separated¡­ is there a delivery company that works around this place?¡± Oliver asked, thinking about his own urge for a cigarette as he pulled out one for himself.

    ¡°Only one, and it¡¯s not so much a company as it is one driver, the Deliverer is what his truck is called.¡± The Undertaker offered, allowing the ash at the end of the cigarette to fall to the floor as Oliver lit his own.

    ¡°Thanks, we got hit by that truck, and it was on the wrong side of the road¡­ I¡¯m thinking of suing.¡± Oliver admitted, not noticing the small smile on the Undertaker¡¯s face at his words.

    ¡°Oh really? Well, I suppose it¡¯s to be expected, the Sheriff doesn¡¯t like that driver¡­ oh, can I ask you to help me with something?¡± The Undertaker opened the door, once more allowing the sound of a bell to echo.

    ¡°Uh, sure, what is it?¡± Oliver asked, finishing his cigarette as he walked in¡­

    Oliver had appearances to maintain, and if he was viewed as a nice guy, then it should be easier to get sympathy at court when he sued that delivery guy.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°It¡¯s just unloading some boxes, and one body that needs to be cremated¡­ don¡¯t worry, the body is in a bag, can¡¯t smell or see it.¡± The Undertaker tried to calm Oliver down after seeing Oliver¡¯s aversion to the idea of picking up a dead body.

    ¡°Oh¡­ okay¡­¡± Oliver said, following the Undertaker to the boxes which needed to be packed around the shop, making small talk as they did so.

    At first they spoke about cigarette brands, then it was about the town itself and then the bandages.

    ¡°So wait, there¡¯s a cult in this town?¡± Oliver asked, packing the disinfectants into their cupboard.

    ¡°Well, we don¡¯t call it that obviously, but the Church of the All Seeing God has quite a few people support it. The followers don¡¯t force their beliefs on others, and help out a lot in town. I¡¯m not one, but the Doctor is.¡± The Undertaker said as he packed some needles away.

    ¡°Oh yeah¡­ he was wearing bandages¡­ still, aren¡¯t you all worried? There¡¯s been lots of bad cults in the past, like ones that scam people, and one that committed mass suicide.¡±

    That last one seemed to get the attention of the Undertaker as he looked to Oliver before looking at the flickering light on the ceiling.

    ¡°That sounds interesting¡­ but no, the A.S.G Church isn¡¯t that bad, and they only really have two rules. One, do not interfere in the matters of the town, and two, eyes are the windows to the soul and are to be protected.¡± The Undertaker¡¯s strange smile widened a bit at seeing Oliver squeeze his eyes shut in sudden pain.

    ¡°Perhaps you should join, given that you¡¯re losing your eyes.¡± Oliver blinked at the words, clearing his vision as he looked to the Undertaker.

    ¡°Sorry, what did you say?¡± Oliver asked, pretty sure that he heard wrong.

    ¡°I said you might want to join, given how you keep rubbing your eyes. If they hurt, maybe you should visit them, I¡¯m certain they have opticians given their beliefs.¡± The Undertaker clarified and Oliver breathed a sigh, wondering why he heard differently¡­

    After finally packing most of the boxes away, they finally moved to the cremation chamber, and seeing the zipped up body bag, Oliver wrinkled his nose in disgust.

    ¡°One hundred and sixty two, along with one thousand four hundred.¡± Oliver looked to the Undertaker as they both lifted the body, moving over towards the furnace.

    ¡°The first is the temperature at which human skin tissue is destroyed. The latter, is the temperature the furnace must maintain for around two hours to cremate the human body, though it is actually between one thousand four hundred and one thousand eight hundred.¡± They placed the back on to a slider, pushing it into the furnace, closing it as it began to burn.

    ¡°It¡¯s fascinating to me. The human body is intricate and even how it handles temperature is strange, the skin tissue burns at a much lower temperature than bone for instance¡­ I¡¯ve always wondered¡­¡± looking to Oliver, the smile on the Undertaker¡¯s face took on a notably manic appearance.

    ¡°How would a live human react to being cremated?¡± The Undertaker stepped closer, and Oliver stepped back instinctively.

    That question¡­ it was not rhetorical.

    With a sudden lunge, the Undertaker charged at Oliver, who dove out of the way immediately, shouting in a combination of anger at fear at the situation.

    Standing up as quickly as possible, Oliver saw the Undertaker turn, now holding a meat hook attached to a chain as he walked over, the Undertaker¡¯s neck having spasms as his head twitched as he stepped closer, the grin still there¡­ still too may teeth to be normal.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry¡­ I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll die within seconds, you¡¯ll barely feel a thing¡­ let me find the answer, how does it feel!¡± The Undertaker¡¯s next attack was done with the meat hook as Oliver panicked.

    When an animal is threatened with death, the brain instinctively goes into fight or flight mode¡­ and Oliver¡¯s decision had to be made.

    Oliver, back in high school at least, was a football player, and while that was over a decade ago, he was still physically fit¡­ and as a player of such a violent sport, Oliver was well versed in the art of brawling.

    Brawling and fighting for your life was two very different things, but Oliver didn¡¯t even have the time to wish he took a self-defence class or something as he charged forward.

    Fight it was.

    Surprised by the attack, the Undertaker coughed out a breath of air as Oliver¡¯s shoulder struck his sternum, forcing the air out of the Undertaker¡¯s lungs.

    ¡°Why, why won¡¯t you accept the fire, accept the warmth?¡± the Undertaker¡¯s words were beginning to make less and less sense, and at this point Oliver really didn¡¯t want to deal with the psychotic person anymore¡­

    Again, Oliver barely had a moment to think, he knew that from his current position the Undertaker could potentially hit him in the back with that meat hook, so he had to push off, make space between him and the mad person¡­

    And that¡¯s when Oliver noticed it¡­ the slight glow of fire¡­ the heat flowing through the opening in the furnace. There were more than one furnace, and one was still on a low setting¡­

    And it was just a bit behind the Undertaker.

    With renewed purpose, Oliver pushed forward, pulling his arms back from where they were hugged around the Undertaker so that his arms could be placed underneath the Undertaker¡¯s arms, shaking the Undertaker as Oliver stepped forward.

    ¡°Stop this, I can teach you, you will enjoy it, the warm embrace of the fire, embrace it!¡± Still screaming, the Undertaker was pushed close enough for Oliver to shove the Undertaker into the open mouth of the furnace, quickly shutting and locking the thing while raising the temperature.

    ¡°Oh, oh, this is how it feels, so warm, so loved, it¡¯s amazing!¡± Oliver could still hear the Undertaker, and looking into the furnace Oliver could see the Undertaker, still laughing as his skin began to bubble and boil, freaking out Oliver as the Undertaker finally stopped, no longer amongst the living¡­

    A popping noise suddenly sounded, and Oliver was vomiting on the floor upon realizing that the source of the sound was the Undertaker¡¯s eyes¡­

    ¡°What the fuck kind of town is this¡­¡± Oliver asked aloud as he fell backwards, sitting down as he took deep breaths¡­ that¡¯s when the realization of what just happened hit Oliver, that he had just killed someone.

    It started as a heaving, shuddering breath, his heart beating irregularly and his pupils dilating, but Oliver began to undergo a panic attack as he lie on the ground in the Undertaker¡¯s workshop¡­

    It would be hours before he stood once more, trying to believe that there would be no consequences for his actions, that they were in self-defence and justified¡­

    And once he did, Oliver would walk to the furnace, look at the burning body of the Undertaker, and adjust the temperature once more.

    Leaving the shop, Oliver did not notice the lack of people in the streets, nor the fact that the sun had barely moved despite spending hours helping the Undertaker¡­

    The first thing he would notice is that the Undertaker was right.

    One thousand four hundred degrees Fahrenheit to cremate a body¡­ one hundred and sixty two degrees to burn skin.

    It was a fact that Oliver would forever be haunted by.

 Chapter 6- Faith

    In a different area of the terrifying town of Sanguine, Mike was scared. Very scared, with understandable reason.

    He had just met a person (thing) which looked like a living skeleton (how does a skeleton live?) a few moments ago, and he was now alone (vulnerable) in what was apparently a town of monsters.

    The only good things were that he wasn¡¯t alone, his father and sister were also in the town (they could suffer together¡­) and that the Sheriff had given Mike a gun capable of stopping (killing) any monster in this town.

    Bad news was that he was still a child (weak), he was lost, confused, scared, and he could only stop (kill) six monsters weaker than the (monstrous) Sheriff.

    Mike was pretty sure that there were more than six monsters in this (horrible) town named Sanguine.

    Mike thought back to what he knew of the town, very little, but he did know that the Sheriff warned him to stay away from the park (could be devoured by the Unwanted), and that he should get to the Garage his father went to for gas (safe place?).

    Destination in mind, but no way of knowing how to get there and unable to ask for directions (would be killed), Mike wandered, his eyes snapping from place to place in search of Residents who would try to hurt him (gnaw on his skull).

    He was still a child, so that wasn¡¯t his exact thoughts, but it was pretty close in meaning¡­ all he really knew was that getting hurt was not an impossibility (pain is close).

    Sanguine, as explained by the Sheriff, was a terrifying place. And Mike, ignorant as he was, knew enough to understand that he was probably not going to survive (he was going to die) unless he met up with his sister (teacher) or father (provider).

    The latter might not be nice (selfish), but he would look out for Mike, it was a lesson Mike learnt early in his life.

    It was as he was attempting to figure out where in Sanguine he was, that Mike came upon another Resident (monster) of Sanguine, and Mike recognized what it was (a creature of nightmares) as soon as it saw him.

    It was somehow even more mutated than the last one, staring at Mike with eyes reminiscent of a housefly (so many eyes), walking on four (insect-like) legs, dragging a limp (and more humanoid) fifth, screaming as it shuffled forward, trying to grab (kill) Mike.

    Mike, was actually on the other side of the road (safe distance) when this being (monster) attempted to do this, and thus had enough time to run (flee for life), recalling that the Resident he had encountered beforehand was much faster.

    It was still a traumatic (life threatening) thing for a child to see, regardless of the distance (closing!) between Mike and the other Resident¡­

    And then Mike heard it, the rumble of an engine (The roar of a beast) and Mike only had a moment to turn and look at the Resident which was attempting to cross the street.

    And it was in that same moment that the Resident vanished (into a maw of sharpened, horrible teeth) causing Mike to pale as he watched the cause of the disappearance speed (run) off.

    It was massive, disgusting (no skin, roTtEn FLESH) and many legs (so many limbs) like a centipede, and pincers (sharp, cutting) that were like those of a beetle, its mouth was filled with (razor-like) teeth as it devoured the Resident.

    The splatter and suddenness of the ¡®death¡¯ was enough to freeze Mike in place, as he stared at the side of the creature¡­

    He vomited a moment later, heaving on the ground, not at the disgusting nature of what had just happened (blood everywhere) but at the fact that he somehow recognized the creature.

    Yes, despite having never seen (with the EYES) such a being, Mike could recognize it, even as its many rows of teeth killed (can it die?) the Resident, even as Mike looked to its legs (Pointy¡­ then turning into hands as it pulled itself forward, a constant cycle) and realized its horror¡­

    He couldn¡¯t help but recall that on the side of the beast, written in black, (pulsing) veins, were the words ¡®The Deliverer¡¯.

    ¡­that, that creature (thing from the depths of HELL) was what hit Mike and his family.

    They had a head-on collision with that thing¡­

    They were lucky to be alive (how though?)

    ¡°Terrifying, isn¡¯t it?¡± Mike jolted as he turned to the source of the soothing voice, not having expected anyone to actually speak to him (town of monsters after all) and looked at the person.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    She¡­ seemed normal. She seemed nice?

    That first Resident appeared to be a normal person too, until it had turned around (such a wide maw¡­) and showed its true colours.

    ¡°W-w-who are y-y-you?¡± Mike wished his tongue didn¡¯t feel so heavy in his mouth (taste of bile) so he¡¯d stop stuttering on letters which he normally could pronounce very well¡­

    He was scared, and afraid. It was stressing Mike out, and everyone and everything (especially things) was suspicious, as far as Mike was concerned, everything in Sanguine wanted to hurt (kill) him.

    ¡°Ah¡­ you fear me¡­ Well, I can understand.¡± The ¡®person¡¯ was a woman, wearing a long dress with a bonnet, it was a really old appearance¡­ and again, ignoring how old her clothes were, one could believe that she was a normal woman¡­

    She also happened to be a thinking being in Sanguine, a place of horrors and disturbing creatures, so Mike recalled the words of the Sheriff.

    ¡°You¡¯re a F-f-founder, aren¡¯t you?¡± Mike managed to stutter a bit less this time, staring at the being with trepidation.

    He had practiced summoning the Scythe after leaving the Sheriff¡¯s Office, it really was as simple as willing the revolver (something more) to his hand when he needed to use (kill with) it.

    Mike felt scared of this woman, much like he feared the previous Resident or the Sheriff. Even if the latter was cordial and kind, he (it) was arguably more dangerous than the former¡­

    One could tell this simply by the fact that the Sheriff could kill any Resident or Founder, and the only being he (it) could not kill was an Old One.

    This ¡®woman¡¯ was probably not an Old One¡­ the Sheriff was apparently the strongest Founder, and just being in his (its) presence was stifling, this woman wasn¡¯t as scary.

    It was why he could still speak clearly, or at least as much as he actually could.

    ¡°I am a Founder of Sanguine. I guide lost children like yourself, I am referred to as Mother.¡± Mike froze at the term, looking at the woman with suspicion¡­

    He had never met his own mother, and his father could only say ¡®she was a good lay¡¯ about said mother¡­ but he didn¡¯t feel comfortable calling a stranger, let alone a monstrous existence such as a Founder, ¡®mother¡¯.

    Seeming to see Mike¡¯s distaste for the term, the woman gave an awkward smile in return.

    ¡°Ah, I doubt you¡¯d like to call me that¡­ You might call me¡­¡± The Mother paused for a moment, looking down at her own neck as she reached and thumbed a carved wooden cross hanging there.

    ¡°Faith I suppose¡­¡± The woman finally responded and Mike could agree to that, though he found the thought of stuttering her ¡®name¡¯ every time he said it to be a chore.

    ¡°Alright¡­ why did you come to m-m-me?¡± Mike asked, and narrowed his eyes when he saw the woman soften her smile at his stutter.

    Mike had never truly hated another living being, but he was actually a bit annoyed at being patronized like this.

    ¡°Well I saw a child, not a Resident, Founder, or even an Old One. A normal, living child. And despite no longer having children to take care of, I still remember the joys involved with that duty.¡± Faith said, kneeling in front of Mike to match eye level.

    ¡°You¡­ wanted to help m-m-me?¡± Mike asked, looking at the ¡®woman¡¯ with a curious glance, trying to hide the fear he was feeling¡­ he was also clearly failing.

    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯d like to. But I don¡¯t think you want me to help you.¡± Faith said, looking at Mike with a tilt of ¡®her¡¯ head, trying to reach out and touch him, watching him step back.

    ¡°N-n-no¡­ I-I-I¡¯m f-f-fine¡­¡± Mike said with his stutter getting a giggle from the Founder.

    ¡°Maybe you are¡­ I will say that you are right to fear the beings in this place¡­ there are no truly kind beings in this place anymore¡­ any kind beings have long since died or been corrupted¡­¡± The sad look on ¡®her¡¯ face said everything that Faith was feeling at the moment.

    Now Mike wasn¡¯t sure about this feeling he felt, but he needed to address it¡­ and so he spoke.

    ¡°You too?¡± Mike¡¯s question was quiet, but heard easily by the ¡®woman¡¯ in front of him, turning her head and looking at Mike as if seeing him for the first time.

    ¡°¡­Yes, I am no exception. My love for children, my want to care for them, has long since been corrupted, against my will¡­ I am naught but a puppet for the Unwanted¡­¡± Faith seemed to¡­

    Regret. Mike wasn¡¯t sure if that was the right term, but he could tell she felt sorry about something.

    ¡°It is because I am a puppet of the Unwanted, that despite wanting to help you, I¡¯d probably do nothing but rush you headlong to your death, at which point you would be nothing more but another shell for the Unwanted to change into like one might change clothes.¡± Mike felt his face paling as he realized what Faith was saying.

    ¡°I am truly sorry.¡± Mike had stepped further out of reach, now standing in the road (despite knowing the roads were the domain of that thing, the Deliverer) and looked at the once kind woman.

    That was past tense because with a snapping (bones cracking) and horrible twisting (flesh and skin) her form changed, her clothes stretching as her face lost colour, her skin becoming brittle and sunken in like a corpse¡­

    Then a hood had covered her once kind face, leaving one to only wonder at what horror lied beneath the hood, her limbs now thin and spindly (like an insect), leaning forward slightly as her arms (long, too long) reached out for him¡­

    And on instinct, Mike found a weight in his hands, aiming the Scythe at the monster before him, drawing silence as everything went still.

    It was a slow thing, as Faith twitched and breathed (rasping gasps as if drowning) before pointing at the revolver in his hands.

    ¡°The Scythe? You possess it, you have a way¡­ a way to end my suffering¡­¡± Slowly Mike began to hear the mania (the insanity) in Faith¡¯s voice as she shuffled forward, Mike inching away.

    ¡°Don¡¯t, don¡¯t leave me, please, end my suffering, grant me relief, please¡­ kill me.¡± Mike was still staring (and screaming, he couldn¡¯t even hear himself scream) as he raised the gun, his hands shaking¡­

    And then a stick-like (clawed) hand curled slowly over the gun, moving Mike¡¯s aim as it was adjusted, the hood now hovering exactly in front of the barrel.

    ¡°I am tired of hurting others¡­ please, stop me so that I may hurt no more.¡± It was then that Mike realized¡­ that Faith did not want to do this.

    Founders had to obey the orders of Old Ones (except maybe the Sheriff) but Founders were also people at some point¡­ maybe not all of them, but some, like Faith, might regret their circumstances.

    It was sad¡­ and yet, Mike knew exactly what she wanted.

    A finger moved, and a trigger was pulled.

    There was a crack of noise, and a body fading to dust.

    There was the sound of footsteps, slow and stumbling before a thump of knees on concrete was heard.

    Much like a lone tree falling in a quiet forest, the sobs of a child went unheard.

    Killing Faith was a horrible thing to do.

 Chapter 7- The Mourner

    Stacy was still terrified, even as she ran away from the Deep Lake, the Fisherman, and the Darkness that lurked beyond the town¡¯s borders¡­

    She was obviously scared. Anyone would be when confronted with things that didn¡¯t make sense, monstrous things¡­ though Stacy could also feel her mind changing as she moved further into Sanguine¡­

    Alien concepts required an alien mind¡­ and a mind that changes too much from its base is no longer the same.

    It was like the woodcutter¡¯s axe that Stacy had read about.

    A man became a woodcutter, and had a son, passing his axe to his son¡­ then the son became a woodcutter but the blade had been damaged, and so the son replaced the axe head and had a son of his own, the grandson of the original man.

    Then the grandson became a woodcutter was given the axe, and then the handle snapped, leaving the grandson to replace the axe handle.

    Now that all the parts of the axe have been replaced, is it still the original axe?

    Maybe spiritually, but practically no, it was not.

    Stacy had no idea why that story came to mind so suddenly, but she felt that it was important, and that was when Stacy realized something was wrong.

    She had been in a slightly wooded area, the shadows invoking primal feelings of fear, as if she had to stay away from them, keeping her on the path heading back into Sanguine¡­

    But now all of a sudden she found herself on concrete flooring, breathing heavily as she looked up to the sky, noticing the unchanged position of the sun, despite having ran for what felt like hours¡­

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s the adrenaline¡­ yeah, that¡¯s it.¡± Stacy¡¯s lies felt hollow on her ears as she looked at her new surroundings, concerned with how she had seemed to appear in this place the moment her concentration waned even slightly¡­

    And with a bit of apprehension, Stacy felt her eyes drift upwards, and her blood felt cold as she read the words on the arch.

    Sanguine Cemetery.

    In a place with horrors and monsters, shadows that felt vile and eyes that saw tOo MUCH-

    A place such as this was terrifying when she wasn¡¯t in danger¡­ now with the added incentive of staying away from terrifying monsters and people capable of killing her easily, Stacy felt her legs almost give out on her.

    She was scared. It was simple, it was normal to be afraid in such a situation¡­

    But they said courage was overcoming fear?

    Stacy wanted to punch the person who said that as she turned to try and walk away¡­

    There was a moment where a wind blew, and Stacy felt dust sting her eyes, for a moment she shut her eyes, rubbed at them in irritation, and opened them.

    And once more she found herself at the entrance of the cemetery.

    It reminded Stacy of the sign as her family left the town¡­ or at least tried to leave.

    ¡°You will stay huh?¡± Stacy muttered as she took a quivering step forward, her words strong, but her actions weak as she trembled in fear of the unknown.

    Stacy wished she hadn¡¯t learnt of Lovecraft, and his most famous of sayings.

    Fear is the oldest human emotion. And the greatest of fears is the fear of the unknown.

    Stacy had no idea what she¡¯d find in this place, but the moment she crossed the threshold into the cemetery, the air changed¡­

    It was a chill that pervaded into your bones, a shiver reminiscent of a claw being dragged down your spine, the cold sweat of a terrible dream, and vaguely Stacy noted that the glare of the sun had been replaced with the soft caress of moonlight¡­

    So why did Stacy feel that said caress was just the noose being slipped around her neck?

    Stacy had tried to leave¡­ and she couldn¡¯t, only returning here to this graveyard¡­

    She could only venture forth into the unknown, the choice ripped from her hands far too easily for her liking¡­

    But she was only mortal.

    Stacy could feel her mind accept this as fact the moment she had seen the Fisherman pulp the brain of a massive creature from the most creative of nightmares, her mind further broke under the strain of accepting that a being such as the Darkness could exist¡­

    And compared to these things, Stacy was only mortal. She had no way of fighting back, no tools, no ideas, and she wasn¡¯t the most athletic of people.

    Stacy had walked into the cemetery expecting to die.

    She had not expected to hear sobbing.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    With a raised eyebrow, but still worried, Stacy tried to keep away from the sobbing¡­ but no matter which direction she moved in, she only found the sobbing getting louder¡­

    Either the source of the noise was approaching, or the same effect that was keeping her in the graveyard was activating to guide her to the source¡­

    Whatever the case, Stacy kept her face painfully passive, even as the blood seemed to drain from said face once she came across the source of the crying¡­

    And once more Stacy felt her mind shattering, trying to comprehend the being she was seeing¡­ but the human mind was a versatile thing, and soon she had managed to make some kind of sense of the being.

    For one, it had seemed small at first, a lady a bit smaller than Stacy herself crying at a grave, her black dress in tatters and her feet bare, caked with dirt that had a muted red tint to it¡­

    A terrifying implication¡­

    But after seeing the Darkness, Stacy saw more than she should have been capable of¡­ seeing the lady from the back, Stacy was incapable of seeing the name on the grave, but she saw slight changes.

    The woman¡¯s straight black hair became frayed, longer and almost touching the floor, her feet digging further into the ground as her dress seemed to have tufts of hair sewn across the back, unable to be hidden even by the mane of hair the woman now had¡­

    Stacy had the faint idea that the lady was actually not a lady, but Stacy couldn¡¯t SEE any more than what she was currently seeing¡­

    Stacy had been drawn to this being, and knowing that she could likely not leave without interacting with this being, Stacy walked slowly forward.

    She had no doubt that the ¡®lady¡¯ sitting at the tombstone had already felt Stacy¡¯s presence, but it was the thought that counted, right?

    ¡°Uh¡­ hi there¡­ are you¡­¡± Stacy felt fear, she was terrified, she wanted to run away and never come back¡­

    But despite that, she looked at this lady, crying, in emotional pain, and Stacy did not think to ask ¡®why am I here¡¯ or ¡®can I leave¡¯ or ¡®what are you¡¯¡­ instead¡­

    ¡°Are you okay¡­ dumb question, sorry, um¡­ do you need help?¡± Stacy asked, mentally slapping herself for asking the thing that could kill her at almost any moment if it needed any help.

    The sobbing stopped, the sudden halt jarring, and only emphasizing the silence in the graveyard, there were no noises¡­

    No crickets, no wind, no birds, nothing. Silence, bar the crying woman who no longer cried¡­

    The loudest sound is silence, Stacy learnt at this moment.

    In this silence, which Stacy belatedly realized also included her own lack of breathing, the woman finally moved, and Stacy¡¯s heart beat rang, and with a shudder she breathed, looking at the woman who raised her head¡­

    She was no longer smaller than Stacy, now larger as the woman turned¡­

    Stacy bit back the scream she felt, unwilling to show weakness to the terrifying visage staring at her.

    For the woman before her had no face. No, that was incorrect¡­ she had eyes, she had teeth, oh so many teeth, and those two holes might be where her nose should be¡­

    But this ¡®woman¡¯ lacked skin, the clear musculature of her face shown for Stacy to stare at, no lips, and no eyelids meaning that the toothy ¡®grin¡¯ and wide eyed stare of too red eyes shown at her.

    ¡°You¡­ help me?¡± the woman spoke, and Stacy shivered, noting that the mouth didn¡¯t move¡­

    Instead, the muscles on the sides of her face, where the ¡®cheeks¡¯ were, flapped open and closed in a sideways movement, the voice echoing from those two places¡­

    It was strange, and disgusting, and yet, Stacy just shivered for a moment before looking at those terrifying eyes, and nodded.

    ¡°Ah.¡± There was a blur and Stacy was reminded of her mortality when she realized her head was being held, her skull between two suddenly massive palms, the claws gently scratching the back of her hair¡­

    Stacy had no doubt that with just a small application of force Stacy¡¯s head would be doing a good imitation of a watermelon hit by a sledgehammer.

    ¡°You¡­ fear me. You¡­ are alive.¡± The thing spoke, it¡¯s teeth still in a macabre grin as its cheeks flapped to allow its voice to be heard¡­

    ¡°Y-y-yes¡­ I am alive¡­ and yes¡­ I-I fear you¡­¡± Stacy stared, forced to look into the eyes of this thing in front of her as she steeled her resolve.

    ¡°But¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ I can fear you, and want to help you at the same time. If that makes sense.¡± Stacy admitted, finally glancing away from the red eyes, the palms slowly coming away from her skull, letting Stacy stumble back a bit.

    ¡°You don¡¯t really want to help me¡­ but you feel that you must¡­ that¡¯s¡­ kind of you. I like you.¡± The being spoke, still looming over Stacy as it leaned back, straightening out.

    Now that it was doing that, facing Stacy, Stacy noticed that it was probably something like three metres tall, thin, fur covering everywhere except for its face which was still without skin¡­

    There was its clawed hands, the sharp teeth on full display, and bits of metal clinking all over her black dress, the metal all holding tiny tufts of hair.

    ¡°I¡­ am an Old One. I¡­ am the Mourner. I govern hair.¡± Stacy blinked at that, confused by the statement¡­ hair?

    This thing was pretty hairy in a way, but¡­ it didn¡¯t exactly invoke images of ¡®in charge of hair¡¯.

    ¡°You are confused. I can erase that feeling. Spiritually, hair is a conduit for your spirit, a sign of connections, a thread tying you to another being or place.¡± There was a blur, and a sharp pain on her scalp, and Stacy looked at the long dark brown hair in the claws of the Mourner¡­ and recognized it as her own.

    ¡°It is the reason why things like voodoo dolls would work. Hair connects things¡­ let me show you your connections.¡± Stacy felt some wetness on her head, and became worried once she realized that her head was probably bleeding now¡­

    Made sense, those claws didn¡¯t really look precise¡­ but the pain wasn¡¯t that bad, but the wetness was worrying¡­ then again, Stacy read somewhere that head wounds looked worse than they usually were, she was probably fine¡­ probably.

    The Mourner raised the strand of hair, and it lengthened in the hands of the Mourner, stretching out away from the terrifying being as the hair began to float in air, a glowing brown trail.

    ¡°Follow. It will take you to where you need to be¡­ thank you for caring.¡± The Mourner then turned back to the tombstone, kneeling once more as Stacy finally managed to see the tombstone.

    It lacked a name, faded by time itself, but she caught the words ¡®caring husband¡¯ on the stone, giving Stacy a good idea of who it was that died in the Mourner¡¯s life.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome¡­ goodbye.¡± Stacy said, touching to her head wound and wincing at the small patch of missing hair, before walking away to follow the hair.

    In a moment Stacy was gone, and the Mourner held a small tuft of brown hair in her hand, a metallic holder for the hair forming and clipping itself onto her dress, to join the rest.

    ¡°Watcher¡­ she¡¯s a unique one¡­ between you, me, and Origin¡­ three of us want her.¡± The Mourner spoke into the air, her wolfish ears above her head twitching as she heard a soft whisper on the wind.

    ¡°Why I didn¡¯t claim her? I want her¡­ but she isn¡¯t mine to have¡­ you will see.¡± The Mourner let out a growling chuckle at the end of her words, knowing the dig would irritate her fellow Old One.

    ¡°Such kindness¡­ oh my love¡­ you would have liked to meet her¡­¡± The Mourner went back to her vigil over her grave, doing the same thing she did since as far as she can remember¡­

    She cried. She sobbed¡­ she mourned.

 Chapter 8- One Eyed Man

    Oliver thought himself a normal, shitty person.

    Everyone was a bit shitty, he was just more upfront about it¡­ most of the time. When it needed to be hidden he was quite good at hiding that.

    Oliver was also certain that normal, shitty people, would be just as terrified and paranoid as he currently was, considering he had just killed someone, even if it was in self-defence.

    ¡°He tried to kill me, wanted to shove me in the furnace, I defended myself, it wasn¡¯t my fault¡­¡± Oliver was trying and failing to convince himself that no bad things would happen as a result of this event, there was no way he¡¯d be arrested right?

    He couldn¡¯t afford to go to jail, he didn¡¯t want to, he was afraid, he couldn¡¯t, couldn¡¯t, couldn¡¯t, COULD-

    ¡°Hey there.¡± Oliver heard the voice and snapped out of his mental dilemma, looking around wildly and realizing that he was not in the Undertaker¡¯s office anymore¡­

    He had stepped out, he could recall doing that, but for some reason he couldn¡¯t remember walking in front of a church, his current location.

    He managed to glance at the person who spoke, realizing that there was another person around, and finding a man with a medical eye-patch standing outside of the church wearing a black cassock with the full colour¡­

    The man was old, with grey hair and beard, but going by his physique you probably wouldn¡¯t guess, the man looked like someone who probably served in the military at some point.

    ¡°Are you going to step in or are you just going to stand there?¡± Oliver realized that he had just stopped to stare at the man and immediately got on with his act, knowing he didn¡¯t want anyone to know-

    ¡°I¡¯d think you¡¯d want to have a confession after killing someone.¡± Oliver felt his blood pale, questioning how this man knew what he had done, knew to say these things¡­

    ¡°Of course I know what you¡¯re thinking. Your eyes say a lot about you.¡± Oliver realized that there was something not quite right with the man¡¯s voice, it was stern, but it also sounded like he ate gravel for breakfast along with drinking glass shards.

    It should sound horrible and disturbing but it somehow fit the priest standing before Oliver.

    ¡°Come inside. Don¡¯t worry about me ¡®ratting you out¡¯ so to speak¡­ clergy are given leeway when it comes to withholding evidence.¡± The priest offered, opening the massive doors to the church as Oliver timidly stepped behind the man.

    Walking behind the man, Oliver walked down the centre aisle of the church pews, many hooded believers with the heads bowed in prayer all around as Oliver twitched at the muttering and occasional movements of each believer.

    No doubt if Stacy was around she would have laughed at his current appearance of fear and glancing around worriedly, Mike on the other hand would try to help him¡­

    Oliver paused in his steps for a moment, wondering where his children were¡­ then moved on, returning to the now.

    He¡¯d find them later after getting some of his own things sorted out.

    He never saw the frowns on the face of every single blindfolded believer as they looked at him, shaking their heads before bowing their heads as one.

    ¡°You¡¯re a disgusting human from my perspective, you know that?¡± The priest spoke out, drawing Oliver¡¯s attention back to him, a frown on Oliver¡¯s face as he realized what the man just said.

    ¡°Hey, you got a problem with me, just say what it is.¡± Oliver was not being very polite right now, he knew that, he could understand that, but he didn¡¯t care right now.

    The man in front of him knew he killed someone, and offered to listen to Oliver¡¯s confession, that was already a bit shaking considering that this man who was presumably nowhere near the Undertaker¡¯s office when the situation happened.

    Now he had the guy judging him?

    ¡°Oh I¡¯m not judging you. I¡¯m actually being very objective with my statements after all.¡± Oliver¡¯s frown deepened as he waved his arms angrily.

    ¡°I¡¯m still feeling very judged- wait, how did you¡­ never mind, what¡¯s your name anyway, I¡¯d like to at least know the name of the guy I¡¯m talking to.¡± Oliver in his anger completely ignored that he wasn¡¯t giving the same courtesy to the man he was speaking to, getting a roll of the single eye from said man.

    ¡°Right, I don¡¯t really go by a name, it¡¯s part of my position as the Pope of this church of the Watcher¡­ You could just call me the Priest or Father. Someone also called me Balar once.¡± Understandably Oliver found that the latter was a bit more comfortable to call the man.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°Well, Balar¡­ what makes you call me a disgusting person huh?¡± Oliver was an unfortunate victim of the idea of ¡®blind rage¡¯. He was so angry he didn¡¯t even catch the predatory smile on the face of Balar.

    ¡°Oh it¡¯s in your essence. We, of the Church of the Watcher, believe that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and that looking into them shows the real person, with no falsehood.¡± Oliver now looked at Balar, only to find his head held in a tight grip by the priest¡­

    Clearly Balar was strong, his physique showed even through the cassock, but being unable to even move his head, Oliver could do nothing but stare into the sole molten gold eye of the priest¡­

    Maybe it was a contact? It would add to the mysticism of this ¡®Church of the Watcher¡¯.

    ¡°Once more, I realize your disgusting nature. Rather, you remind me of how the ostrich is portrayed.¡± Oliver blinked for a moment, his head released as Balar stepped back slightly, looking at Oliver from his raised position.

    Even on even ground the older man was taller though, Oliver was a solid one point nine and this guy was probably two metres minimum.

    ¡°Like the ostrich, when you see danger, you stick your head in the ground and pretend everything is alright, even when you know it¡¯s not.¡± Balar had already clarified that ostriches weren¡¯t actually like that, to be precise, people thought they did that.

    Ostriches didn¡¯t actually hit their heads into the ground when they were scared.

    ¡°¡­¡± Oliver for once, for once¡­ For once Oliver listened, to the words of Balar. About how Oliver willingly deafened himself and blinded himself to the signs of danger.

    How he willingly ignored that before him was not a man but a Giant with ripped skin, a single golden eye dripping golden fluid as the Giant whispered his powerful words to Oliver¡­

    But¡­ but¡­

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ I don¡¯t ignore danger¡­ I just¡­¡± Oliver also considered, just once, to be honest about things.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that if I acknowledge it, it will become real.¡± Oliver treated a lot of his problems like that.

    The priest actually looked at Oliver at that, properly, with a long stare before the sole eye softened.

    ¡°Well¡­ I suppose that you are not at fault for not being taught better I suppose, that¡¯s on the people that raised you.¡± Balar¡¯s eye then hardened, going from soft to stern once more.

    ¡°However you remain wilfully blind despite knowing the danger it puts you in¡­ depending on how we look at it, you are either entirely unsuitable for this Church¡­ or you¡¯d be a very devout member.¡± Balar noted while he hummed in thought.

    The priest then reached into a pocket he had in his cassock, from out of which Balar pulled out a length of cloth¡­ something that the other people in the Church wore, the ones that the doctor, Van, wore¡­

    Now that Oliver thought about it, the doctor and the Undertaker were friends¡­ never again will Oliver step near that clinic.

    ¡°A wise decision, now let¡¯s see if you keep going into the world of the wise. This cloth is the religious garb of this Church. The doctor you speak of is not really a believer, just someone who dabbles¡­ but¡­¡± Balar then held out the cloth to Oliver.

    The Giant caught a drip of the molten gold oozing from his one eye, the drip seemingly forming into a ribbon of lava, hot, liquid, and yet remaining in shape as the Giant held out the ribbon on a single finger before Oliver.

    ¡°Should you place this upon your eyes¡­ you will remain as blind as you¡¯ve always been, permanently. You will never be able to see more than you currently do. You will be unable to progress further into the path of seeing the truth.¡± Balar seemed hesitant, looking into Oliver¡¯s eyes.

    The Giant lowered its head, eye bubbling with lava as the heat radiated onto Oliver, weighing him, seeing his resolve.

    ¡°I¡¯d¡­ be blinding myself?¡± Oliver asked aloud, looking to the side, not seeing the many, many believers behind him, all ¡®staring¡¯ at him through their own cloths.

    ¡°Yes, you would. The truth is scary, and painful, it hurts so much that many cannot bear its weight¡­ and so we bind our eyes, to shelter us from the truth as the Watcher guides us.¡± A pause¡­

    ¡°Some believers once thought that isn¡¯t this simply placing our fates into the hands of the Watcher¡­ in a way, this is true¡­ but alternatively¡­ the Watcher has seen the Truth and instead of guiding others to see it, he guides us around it, partaking in its brilliance, but never falling into its depths.¡± Balar once more extended the cloth.

    Once more, the Giant extended the ribbon of lava, the heat searing.

    ¡°Wear these bandages, bind your eyes¡­ and let the Lord Watcher be your eyes.¡± Oliver stared at the ribbon, seemingly being swayed into agreement, but halting as he stretched out his hand to look at Balar once more.

    ¡°Before I do anything¡­ why do you only have one eye? Everyone else covers both, but you only cover one?¡± Oliver finally asked, leaving Balar to smirk.

    The Giant smiled, a horrendous smile filled with teeth as large as Oliver¡¯s chest and covered in red streaks, as if the blood soaked into them could never be washed away.

    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s something of a joke really¡­ by covering your eyes, you become willingly blind. The Lord Watcher sees all¡­ and to commune with the Lord? One must have Eyes to do so.¡± Balar then raised his hands as if grasping the heavens.

    The Giant raised its neck, staring through the open roof of the church into the massive orb hanging in the sky¡­ was it a Sun, or was it the Moon?

    Or was it a giant eye?

    ¡°So while the believers are blind, I can see, but I am half blind, half seeing. In the land of the blind¡­ the one eyed man leads.¡± Balar let Oliver know, getting Oliver to look back to the cloth still held out to him¡­

    Oliver, throughout his whole life, had always looked away from the things that made him angry, sad, or depressed, it was why he was always so pissed off at his kids, they were reminders that he wasn¡¯t a free man, that everything he did was for them at this point.

    Both of his kids were mistakes, he hadn¡¯t meant to have them, especially not Stacy, he wasn¡¯t even out of school yet when she was born¡­

    Blinding himself¡­ Oliver¡¯s hand reached out.

    Balar smiled.

    The Giant smiled.

    Oliver walked out of the Church of the Watcher blindfolded, and yet feeling as if he could truly see for the first time.

    Oliver walked out of the Lair of the Giant with his eyes gone, the Watcher leading him and not letting him know of the horrors around him.

    All was well.

    All seemed okay¡­ but it wasn¡¯t.

    Oliver felt great.

    Oliver felt like he had lost his humanity.