The Tragic Tale Of Alexander White (DISCONTINUED)

Imagine being in love. True love. Pure love. then imagine waking up to find your lover slaughtered and the world filled with creatures without faces. Alexander White awakens to this reality from his dreams. Follow his tale as the emptiness consumes him and his mind loses itself to insanity. Watch him defend himself from these phantoms that seem to have replaced the people of his village and find out whether he can cope without the light of his life. Ask yourself, what would you do when faced with the emptiness?


3. A Sick Pleasure

The walk down the hill to the village usually only takes 20 minutes however Alexander ran down the hill like a mad man. Weeping and sobbing with the pain of loss biting at his heels he reached the village within 10 minutes. The butchers shop is the first thing he reaches, it being on the border of the town and the first thing he usually has to pass when going into the village. He runs into the shop, the door thankfully still open. John would usually stay in the shop till late at night, Alexander was in luck that he had stayed this late. 

The shop was empty. Their wasn't even a sound. panting heavily he rested his hands on his knees as he bent over, trying to recollect his breath. Elizabeth was gone, slaughtered by that... that phantom! Why?! Why had it not killed him as well? The writer finds himself wishing it had killed him... then he wouldn't have to live without her. He had killed it though. His minds eye brings up the image of him shooting it in the head, the spray of gore flying out behind it's head as the bullet tore through it's skull. the fleshy, bleeding hole left in it's head, the milk curdling scream it let out. Bile rose up into his mouth, before he could stop himself he vomited, spewing last nights romantic meal across the butcher shop floor. After it was all up he stood there panting and breathing heavily for a few moments till he heard shuffling coming from the back of the shop. 
"John!? It's terrible! Elizabeth has been... oh no. " terror washed over the writer as another phantom came walking out of the back of the shop, uttering the same deep growls as the other. The same blank face staring at him. This one however was taller... the same height as Alexander at six feet tall. Alexander looked down to the phantoms right hand, something strange drawing his eye. It had no right hand, instead a bone seemed to protrude from the wrist, a sharp curved bone, like a knife. This one was much more dangerous then the one at the house! The revolver! he had left it in his bedroom without thinking. Curse his stupidity! The creature moved towards him slowly and Alexander's sadness washed away. How dare this thing try to kill him! How dare this thing even exist in his world! How dare they take his Elizabeth away from him! Rage and hate flooded through him, he glanced over to the counter next to him, a large meat cleaver with a dark wooden handle rested there. He grabbed it quickly and screamed at the creature, a scream of terror, hate, anger and loathing. He rushed at the creature and brought the cleaver down upon the crook of his neck. The blade bit down deep, blood gushed and flowed from the wound as the creature let out another high pitched scream, the same as the other one. Alexander grabbed the creatures right wrist with his free left hand to secure the bone like blade. He pulled the cleaver out of the snow white flesh and brought it down again upon the creatures neck, slightly higher up the side of the neck this time. The creature falls to its knees screaming and squealing trying to fight off the embodiment of rage that was Alexander.  Rage however gave the writer strength. For the second time he pulled the cleaver out of the phantoms neck and raising it high above his head let out a short yell of victory and defiance. The creatures final scream was cut short as the large knife was driven through it's skull, right through it's forehead. The creatures body went limp and slouched over. Alexander let go of it's wrist and pulled the meat cleaver out of the creatures skull, a small squelch sounding as the blade left the brain. 

Alexander stood there above the creature looking down upon it, a grimace of victory and loathing on his face. He looks down at his white shirt to see it covered in blood. But not red blood, the blood of men. this was the blood of the phantoms, black like tar it looked like he had been splattered with black paint. He had killed another one. These creatures may be terrifying and armed with bone like weapons but they were no more or less stronger or faster then Alexander. They could be killed like any mortal man. Adrenaline coursed through Alexander's veins, a laugh escaped his lips. 
"I got you, phantom. Who's the monster now?" 

Leaving the butchers shop Alexander looked up and down the street, checking to see if their was any more phantoms. Their wasn't a soul to be seen on the street. As he walked across the street his thoughts returned to his friend, John. They must of killed him too. He was not in the shop anywhere yet all of his belongings were still there. For a moment Alexander had contemplated checking the meat locker more thoroughly in case the body of his friend had been butchered but decided against it. He couldn't bare to see another corpse of someone he cared about. Someone must be in the tavern who could help though. So he quickly crossed the street to one of the two taverns in the village and barged in, adrenaline still clouding his judgement. Terror overwhelmed the poet. Three phantoms occupied the establishment. Two were at the bar, one in front and one behind where the bar man usually stood. The final was off to Alexander's right, slowly raising from a table and approaching him. The same fury that had occupied his thoughts minutes before returned. These things took his love from him! They do not deserve to live. Yelling he darted to his right and brought the meat cleaver horizontally across the phantoms neck, cutting it open deeply. Black blood spewed form the open would as the creature fell backwards, half gurgling and half growling. The Phantom in front of the bar ran straight out of the tavern before Alexander could reach it. The third and biggest of the three approached from behind the counter, this one also had a bone like weapon. This one however was a bony club. The phantom swung at his head but Alexander brought up the meat cleaver to block it, the impact sent shudders down his arm. A few more blows were met like this till Alexander finally managed to grab the wrist like he did with the phantom in the butcher shop. This time he brought the cleaver down onto the creatures face. The phantom fell to its knees screaming, it's hand clutched to it's ruined featureless head. Quickly the poet jumped to the creatures side and brought the cleaver down onto the back of it's neck, once, then twice. The phantom fell forward dead. Gasping for breath Alexander smiled to himself. Two more dead. Ha! What of the tavern keeper and his wife? They live upstairs but are they still alive? Slowly Alexander moved toward the back of the tavern and began climbing the stairs. He opened the door to the old couples room above the tavern. A phantom, short like the first one with no bony weapons had it's back to him. The old couple must be dead as well. How dare these creatures kill innocent people! Elizabeth  John, now the old couple who owned the small tavern. But they are just as easy to kill. Alexander found it rather easy, in fact he rather enjoyed it. The satisfaction it gave him and the sick excitement was so sweet. They should die for what they've done and since it pleased him to do so, why shouldn't he take it upon himself? Sneaking up behind it he raised the bloodied cleaver above his head. A sick smile spread across the poets face. 

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