Once upon a time, there was a man. A man by the name of Reginald Helwey. Reginald was a fairly wealthy sort, of forty-two years of age. He was a very stout man, with a penchant for expensive wines and cheap women. It also should be known that Reginald hailed from the city of Havenreach, the seat of Imperal power on the continent of Ithania.
One night, after a round of drinks and lost faith, Reginald was walking home. It was midnight, on the night of a new moon. The air was chilled, and only the street lamps gave off the barest glimmer. All was hushed, as all others but the most stubborn of carousers had gone to bed. As Reginald made his way drunkenly through the city streets, he paused just a moment to catch his breath at a lamp post. He heard the slightest sound, the sound of someone crying. A very light and airy sobbing that could only have come from a young girl. Reginald, numbed by his favorite drink, decided to check the alleyway to see what was the matter. Just as he had supposed, there was a young girl, no older than thirteen, on her knees with her back to the drunkard.
"What are you crying about?" Reginald inquired in a fairly blunt tone.
The girl turned her head and shoulders quickly, gazing tear softened eyes up at the portly man. She was a very pretty girl, with curly soft-brown hair, and a smooth face, and fine lips. Many thoughts danced in Reginald's head. He'd never taken one so young before.
"I got lost, sir, and I don't know how to get home." The girl stuttered through her sobs.
"Did you now? Why don't you come along with me? Old Reginald will make sure you get home safe and sound." he coaxed through a soft grin, pleased with his luck.
The girl turned fully, and shied away a bit. This only welcomed Reginald to close in on her, like a wolf closing in on a wounded deer.
"No need to be scared, sweetness. I'll take good care of you." He offered again, as she tried to slink farther into the alleyway.
As he continued to approach her, Reginald noticed a form take shape in the darkness behind the young girl. The form tall and slender, black as the new moon above, with glowing pink/purple eyes. The form moved quickly on the girl. She tried to give a scream, but tendrils of darkness drowned it out before she could raise too much attention. Nothing but the blackness remained, and Reginald stood with horror across his drunken face, looking into the eyes of the black beast.
It's "jaw" then contorted, opening wide, and a piercing scream that could only be described as coming from everywhere, but nowhere echoed in Reginald's head. Through his panicked brain, Reginald could make out two words in the white noise of the scream.
"Fear Me."
Fear Reginald did, and he turned as quick as possible and bolted for the streets. He ran as fast as his drunken state and rotund build could carry him, with the scream of the beast still echoing in his mind. He reached the street, then turned to see if the blackness was still there. There was no sign so he took a deep sigh of relief. A slight noise behind him caused him to turn, and Reginald once again plummeted into a mad scramble, however, he was too late.
The black beast had reached Reginald, and had used one of it's inky tentacles to pierce his torso. Reginald blacked out, looking up into the glowing eyes of the beast, one thing echoing through his mind.
"Fear Me."
Reginald woke screaming. He stopped to take deep breaths, then realized that he was home, in his own bed. His wife, Ermine, must have gotten up to cook breakfast, as she was not there to ask why Reginald had made such a loud scream. Reginald placed his hand on his head and gave deep relieved sigh, glad that what he had experienced was only just a dream. He stood, got dressed, and left his home to begin his business.
His first stop was at the bank, where he asked the teller for a withdrawl. When the money he asked for was delivered, he counted it on his way out as usual. However he could not shake the feeling that the teller had short-changed him, though the amount was the same no matter how many times he had counted it. Then he went on his way to the tavern to see his companions, though on the way there, Reginald could not shake the strange feeling that he was being watched. Once at the tavern, the jovial conversations that he once enjoyed now seemed to be shared among forked tongued liars, with knives in their boots. He got up and left, no longer trusting those he knew as friends, much to their surprise.
Reginald slunk home, somehow not feeling up to another night of drunken carousing with one tart or another. When he got home, Ermine walked up to him handing him a small list of chores she needed help with. However, Reginald for the rest of the day seemed to only be able to get half of the list done, though they were simple matters.
This pattern of caution, mistrust, and complacency escalated every day for the next month until Reginald was an anxious mess. He had boarded up the windows of his home, his lawn had grown unkempt, his wealth had all seemed rusted, and all his carousing was a distant memory. Half-finished traps laid scattered around his home, a failed attempt by the portly man to keep his home secure. And every night, Reginald would dream of the blackness he saw before. Of the little girl who had been swallowed whole by it. Often he would wake up screaming, for his wife to come and try to calm him.
For months beyond that, whenever Reginald ever got the courage to go outside, he drew the attention of his friends, neighbors, and his wife. They all began to fear for him, some even simply feared him. Reginald took their wary eyes as eyes of betrayal, and he assumed that every single one of them was working with the dark beast to feed it his soul. His wife, long ago a breadth of his indiscretions, and now his paranoia, decided to leave. Reginald took this as that she was leaving him for another man, and cursed her name. Eventually, Reginald sealed himself away completely, and the town slowly forgot about him.
Then, one day, a caller came to Reginald's door. They found the door to be unlocked, and let themselves in, only to find Reginald dead in his kitchen stabbed in the torso with a knife by his own hand. News was spread to all of those who still knew of Reginald, and a funeral was held in his honor. In attendance was the banker, who's shiny silvers had faded dull. Reginald's friends at the tavern, who were seated far apart from one another in mistrust, and finally, a few of the ladies that Reginald had been with, all having been celibate for months. All were quiet, and none noticed, or perhaps preferred not to notice the tall, slender figure behind Reginald's casket, skin dark as the new moon, whispering to each in a voice that can only be described as coming from everywhere and nowhere.
"Fear Me."
One night, after a round of drinks and lost faith, Reginald was walking home. It was midnight, on the night of a new moon. The air was chilled, and only the street lamps gave off the barest glimmer. All was hushed, as all others but the most stubborn of carousers had gone to bed. As Reginald made his way drunkenly through the city streets, he paused just a moment to catch his breath at a lamp post. He heard the slightest sound, the sound of someone crying. A very light and airy sobbing that could only have come from a young girl. Reginald, numbed by his favorite drink, decided to check the alleyway to see what was the matter. Just as he had supposed, there was a young girl, no older than thirteen, on her knees with her back to the drunkard.
"What are you crying about?" Reginald inquired in a fairly blunt tone.
The girl turned her head and shoulders quickly, gazing tear softened eyes up at the portly man. She was a very pretty girl, with curly soft-brown hair, and a smooth face, and fine lips. Many thoughts danced in Reginald's head. He'd never taken one so young before.
"I got lost, sir, and I don't know how to get home." The girl stuttered through her sobs.
"Did you now? Why don't you come along with me? Old Reginald will make sure you get home safe and sound." he coaxed through a soft grin, pleased with his luck.
The girl turned fully, and shied away a bit. This only welcomed Reginald to close in on her, like a wolf closing in on a wounded deer.
"No need to be scared, sweetness. I'll take good care of you." He offered again, as she tried to slink farther into the alleyway.
As he continued to approach her, Reginald noticed a form take shape in the darkness behind the young girl. The form tall and slender, black as the new moon above, with glowing pink/purple eyes. The form moved quickly on the girl. She tried to give a scream, but tendrils of darkness drowned it out before she could raise too much attention. Nothing but the blackness remained, and Reginald stood with horror across his drunken face, looking into the eyes of the black beast.
It's "jaw" then contorted, opening wide, and a piercing scream that could only be described as coming from everywhere, but nowhere echoed in Reginald's head. Through his panicked brain, Reginald could make out two words in the white noise of the scream.
"Fear Me."
Fear Reginald did, and he turned as quick as possible and bolted for the streets. He ran as fast as his drunken state and rotund build could carry him, with the scream of the beast still echoing in his mind. He reached the street, then turned to see if the blackness was still there. There was no sign so he took a deep sigh of relief. A slight noise behind him caused him to turn, and Reginald once again plummeted into a mad scramble, however, he was too late.
The black beast had reached Reginald, and had used one of it's inky tentacles to pierce his torso. Reginald blacked out, looking up into the glowing eyes of the beast, one thing echoing through his mind.
"Fear Me."
Reginald woke screaming. He stopped to take deep breaths, then realized that he was home, in his own bed. His wife, Ermine, must have gotten up to cook breakfast, as she was not there to ask why Reginald had made such a loud scream. Reginald placed his hand on his head and gave deep relieved sigh, glad that what he had experienced was only just a dream. He stood, got dressed, and left his home to begin his business.
His first stop was at the bank, where he asked the teller for a withdrawl. When the money he asked for was delivered, he counted it on his way out as usual. However he could not shake the feeling that the teller had short-changed him, though the amount was the same no matter how many times he had counted it. Then he went on his way to the tavern to see his companions, though on the way there, Reginald could not shake the strange feeling that he was being watched. Once at the tavern, the jovial conversations that he once enjoyed now seemed to be shared among forked tongued liars, with knives in their boots. He got up and left, no longer trusting those he knew as friends, much to their surprise.
Reginald slunk home, somehow not feeling up to another night of drunken carousing with one tart or another. When he got home, Ermine walked up to him handing him a small list of chores she needed help with. However, Reginald for the rest of the day seemed to only be able to get half of the list done, though they were simple matters.
This pattern of caution, mistrust, and complacency escalated every day for the next month until Reginald was an anxious mess. He had boarded up the windows of his home, his lawn had grown unkempt, his wealth had all seemed rusted, and all his carousing was a distant memory. Half-finished traps laid scattered around his home, a failed attempt by the portly man to keep his home secure. And every night, Reginald would dream of the blackness he saw before. Of the little girl who had been swallowed whole by it. Often he would wake up screaming, for his wife to come and try to calm him.
For months beyond that, whenever Reginald ever got the courage to go outside, he drew the attention of his friends, neighbors, and his wife. They all began to fear for him, some even simply feared him. Reginald took their wary eyes as eyes of betrayal, and he assumed that every single one of them was working with the dark beast to feed it his soul. His wife, long ago a breadth of his indiscretions, and now his paranoia, decided to leave. Reginald took this as that she was leaving him for another man, and cursed her name. Eventually, Reginald sealed himself away completely, and the town slowly forgot about him.
Then, one day, a caller came to Reginald's door. They found the door to be unlocked, and let themselves in, only to find Reginald dead in his kitchen stabbed in the torso with a knife by his own hand. News was spread to all of those who still knew of Reginald, and a funeral was held in his honor. In attendance was the banker, who's shiny silvers had faded dull. Reginald's friends at the tavern, who were seated far apart from one another in mistrust, and finally, a few of the ladies that Reginald had been with, all having been celibate for months. All were quiet, and none noticed, or perhaps preferred not to notice the tall, slender figure behind Reginald's casket, skin dark as the new moon, whispering to each in a voice that can only be described as coming from everywhere and nowhere.
"Fear Me."
