little pig
Legs pumping and pounding, bare feet against the earth, battling to slow Marcus down; shredding his souls inside and out. Spirit broken, he rhythmically lunges forward fiercely to save what's left of himself. An ethereal presence absorbed the air and hung thick in the midnight heavens, choking the dear boy as he fought for breath. only a child, just a boy of 13; the ripe age for her. The eldritch witch, the she-devil, a goddess of death. skulls adorning he slim figure, black leather hugging her spindly arms and bony frame a grandeur display of hell stones, emerald mist and obsidian blades succeeded her. forever perusing, never satiated. Only the freshest souls will do. Ducking, dodging behind trees and bushes, he whispered quiet curses to the gods for bestowing him with this life. Tears that had long been dry welled up in his eyes as Marcus shook them away, promising to feel their warm embrace once this was over. he remembered all that she had took from him everything she ripped o...