Post by Addy A on Apr 21, 2020 23:36:44 GMT -5
The young child played blissfully. She was gloriously unaware of the shadowy figure hidden away amongst the trees just off to the edge of the playground. As she climbed the jungle gym to slide down the slippery dip with all the elegance of a drunk seal, but the girl; she was having fun. Her porcelain skin covering only in just enough to keep her modest; a baby blue singlet and darker navy short and pretty little red shoes adorned her feet. Her blonde hair sparkled against the sunlight, the way that vampires do not, countered by her blindingly azure blue eyes.
And while the lass played, the shadow - he watched with a smile upon his face. A sickening smile of a hungry lion stalking it’s prey - an easy kill, like a sick and injured gazelle. That is how the shadow hidden in the trees thought of himself. A lion - king of the jungle - an alpha predator stalking the weak and ridding the world of what is failing to thrive. He was the key to the survival of the fittest.
But this lovely little doll was not his target. The little doll could yet because something worthwhile. The little doll could grow into his queen. His prey; it was her mother and his cavern in the trees, hidden from the view of the outside world allowed him to gaze perfectly upon the mother of the girl.
The mother is like a grown version of her offspring in her features. Strikingly beautiful blonde hair that hangs just over her exposed shoulders,brilliant blue eyes that even the most sapphires in the world could not replicate, her body was a picture of a woman who took care of herself, but not so firm that it was manly. Her breasts stood elegantly on her chest like an eagle watching from a perch. The man in the shadows liked her breasts. Her tiny black shorts showed her legs that seemed endless. They were tight, form and well toned - they made him, lick his lips with anticipation. The whole package of his prey was something he was looking forward to tasting.
She was beautiful. And she would be his when the moment was right. That moment would be soon. Just like her daughter she was unaware of his gaze upon the grove of trees. So close and so far, hidden in plain sight. He was clever. She was not. He watched her as she watched her daughter play.
Sometimes I think that I can see auras, and yours seems to glow. It’s a bright, brilliant glow. It’s like the archangel Michael himself flying from the old biblical texts, righteous sword in hand, aiming to behead the deceiving dragon and right all wrongs here in the world of the APW. A pretty fable, Eli.
But a fable nevertheless…
It seems your heart is heavy with questions. I’ll answer one of them in an effort to ease your confusion. It concerns the circumstances of the deal between Mister Watts and someone... That someone had nothing on Mister Watts, Eli. The same someone found no skeletons in my closet…because I have no closet. All my skeletons are proudly on display, and when I’m so inclined, I make their creaky bones dance for me.
I was no unwilling pawn brought into this game at the behest of threats or extortion. Instead, Eli…I was a VERY willing accomplice with enough personal interest in my big, wholesome heart to offer that someone a special favor. I played my part because it was my desire to play such a part…and it gave me great pleasure, Eli. I have a memory…and it served me well.
I can tell you about the sounds she made, Eli. With the moisture still smeared across her lips, she began to whimper. She stumbled and grasped at the walls, but the walls were unkind…and the walls would not hold her up.
I can describe in detail how she struggled, Eli. She wiggled on the floor like a small animal, clawing against the tiles with weak fingers. She fought the slumber with everything that she had. Her will is iron, Eli…but even iron becomes brittle with the right potion swirling through the veins.
I touched her, Eli. I let my fingertips drift across her smooth skin. I took in a deep inhalation of her hair, and the blood rushed to my cock, the blood rushed through just about every part of me. I felt voracious, Eli. It took great personal willpower for me to not make a mess of her right there on that dusty floor before some men came to collect her lifeless form.
Did you know she talks in her sleep? It’s the most adorable thing. She whispered a name, her soft lips pressed against that dirty, lonely floor…
She whispered a name.
Eli.
She called for Eli even in her catatonic state, but Eli never came…
Can you tear away my mask, Eli? I welcome that. Remove my mask. Rip it off and stomp it to splinters. Do you know what you’ll find beneath my mask? Another mask. Tear that one from my face too…and then you’ll find a different mask. You can tear them off one by one—flustered and red-faced, tearing mask after mask, your fingers bleeding, your mind rebelling, your hands beginning to shake.
Unmask me, Eli.
I have a thousand masks and a thousand names, and beneath each mask lies another. And another. And another. And another…
But you can’t grasp at masks forever, can you, Eli? You have things to do. You have personal demons that you must overcome. You have... your obsessions.
I just want you to know something, Eli.
I can get to her anywhere and anytime…
And I will never stop unless you stop me.
You must chase a demon, a haunt, an obsession that rules your mind. You must pour yourself into the compulsive need to beat and belittle a man that has beaten and belittled you for a large portion of your career.
You face a dilemma, Eli.
I’m a meticulous man. I know sooner or later…you’ll chase the demon that drives every waking moment of your existence. You’ll choose the demon you know.
You’ll choose… because a man cannot outrun his obsessions.
And while you focus on the demon you know…you’ll neglect the demon that you don’t know. You’ll get sloppy, Eli You’ll chase him…and you’ll leave her all by her lonesome.
That’s when I’ll chase her, Eli.
That’s when I’ll come for her.
When you are entrenched in the fight against some men…I’ll get to know her better.
We’re a lot alike, Eli.
We have strong similarities.
We are men defined by our obsessions.
You have yours…
And now I have mine.
You...
A pretty blonde girl sits on a wooden bench next to a playground. Next to her is an older woman in a suit. The child is emotionally detached from the woman next to her appears to barely acknowledge her physical presence next to her.
All the child can do is cry.
The shadow hauls a large duffel bag behind him. The shadow is no larger than a normal man. He wears a grey hoodie and black sweatpants. His boots leave footmarks in the soft mud of the undergrowth. The night is dark and the shape of the shadow is barely discernible against the backdrop of the woods.
It is silent, except for the sounds of heavy footsteps and a laden bag breaking the fallen twigs underneath as it is dragged along the earthen floor.
The shadow stops in the darkness, broken by only enough moonlight to cast him as a shadow. He drops the bag onto the ground. There is no sound but that of the bag crashing into the soft ground.
The shadow looks around and slowly starts to assemble a mound of sticks and stones. One by one he covers the bag with these sticks and stones and until it is entirely hidden under a mound. The shadow drops his frame onto his newly formed mound. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes. He extracts one from the packet, places it between his lips and fumbles in his pocket with his free hand for a box of matches. He pulls a match out of his cardboard home and strikes it alight. He touches it to the cigarette in his mouth and sets it alight. He tosses the match and puts the packets of matches, and cigarettes back into his pocket. He takes a drag of his cigarette as his chest heaves with the inhalation of nicotine.
And while the lass played, the shadow - he watched with a smile upon his face. A sickening smile of a hungry lion stalking it’s prey - an easy kill, like a sick and injured gazelle. That is how the shadow hidden in the trees thought of himself. A lion - king of the jungle - an alpha predator stalking the weak and ridding the world of what is failing to thrive. He was the key to the survival of the fittest.
But this lovely little doll was not his target. The little doll could yet because something worthwhile. The little doll could grow into his queen. His prey; it was her mother and his cavern in the trees, hidden from the view of the outside world allowed him to gaze perfectly upon the mother of the girl.
The mother is like a grown version of her offspring in her features. Strikingly beautiful blonde hair that hangs just over her exposed shoulders,brilliant blue eyes that even the most sapphires in the world could not replicate, her body was a picture of a woman who took care of herself, but not so firm that it was manly. Her breasts stood elegantly on her chest like an eagle watching from a perch. The man in the shadows liked her breasts. Her tiny black shorts showed her legs that seemed endless. They were tight, form and well toned - they made him, lick his lips with anticipation. The whole package of his prey was something he was looking forward to tasting.
She was beautiful. And she would be his when the moment was right. That moment would be soon. Just like her daughter she was unaware of his gaze upon the grove of trees. So close and so far, hidden in plain sight. He was clever. She was not. He watched her as she watched her daughter play.
Sometimes I think that I can see auras, and yours seems to glow. It’s a bright, brilliant glow. It’s like the archangel Michael himself flying from the old biblical texts, righteous sword in hand, aiming to behead the deceiving dragon and right all wrongs here in the world of the APW. A pretty fable, Eli.
But a fable nevertheless…
It seems your heart is heavy with questions. I’ll answer one of them in an effort to ease your confusion. It concerns the circumstances of the deal between Mister Watts and someone... That someone had nothing on Mister Watts, Eli. The same someone found no skeletons in my closet…because I have no closet. All my skeletons are proudly on display, and when I’m so inclined, I make their creaky bones dance for me.
I was no unwilling pawn brought into this game at the behest of threats or extortion. Instead, Eli…I was a VERY willing accomplice with enough personal interest in my big, wholesome heart to offer that someone a special favor. I played my part because it was my desire to play such a part…and it gave me great pleasure, Eli. I have a memory…and it served me well.
I can tell you about the sounds she made, Eli. With the moisture still smeared across her lips, she began to whimper. She stumbled and grasped at the walls, but the walls were unkind…and the walls would not hold her up.
I can describe in detail how she struggled, Eli. She wiggled on the floor like a small animal, clawing against the tiles with weak fingers. She fought the slumber with everything that she had. Her will is iron, Eli…but even iron becomes brittle with the right potion swirling through the veins.
I touched her, Eli. I let my fingertips drift across her smooth skin. I took in a deep inhalation of her hair, and the blood rushed to my cock, the blood rushed through just about every part of me. I felt voracious, Eli. It took great personal willpower for me to not make a mess of her right there on that dusty floor before some men came to collect her lifeless form.
Did you know she talks in her sleep? It’s the most adorable thing. She whispered a name, her soft lips pressed against that dirty, lonely floor…
She whispered a name.
Eli.
She called for Eli even in her catatonic state, but Eli never came…
Can you tear away my mask, Eli? I welcome that. Remove my mask. Rip it off and stomp it to splinters. Do you know what you’ll find beneath my mask? Another mask. Tear that one from my face too…and then you’ll find a different mask. You can tear them off one by one—flustered and red-faced, tearing mask after mask, your fingers bleeding, your mind rebelling, your hands beginning to shake.
Unmask me, Eli.
I have a thousand masks and a thousand names, and beneath each mask lies another. And another. And another. And another…
But you can’t grasp at masks forever, can you, Eli? You have things to do. You have personal demons that you must overcome. You have... your obsessions.
I just want you to know something, Eli.
I can get to her anywhere and anytime…
And I will never stop unless you stop me.
You must chase a demon, a haunt, an obsession that rules your mind. You must pour yourself into the compulsive need to beat and belittle a man that has beaten and belittled you for a large portion of your career.
You face a dilemma, Eli.
I’m a meticulous man. I know sooner or later…you’ll chase the demon that drives every waking moment of your existence. You’ll choose the demon you know.
You’ll choose… because a man cannot outrun his obsessions.
And while you focus on the demon you know…you’ll neglect the demon that you don’t know. You’ll get sloppy, Eli You’ll chase him…and you’ll leave her all by her lonesome.
That’s when I’ll chase her, Eli.
That’s when I’ll come for her.
When you are entrenched in the fight against some men…I’ll get to know her better.
We’re a lot alike, Eli.
We have strong similarities.
We are men defined by our obsessions.
You have yours…
And now I have mine.
You...
A pretty blonde girl sits on a wooden bench next to a playground. Next to her is an older woman in a suit. The child is emotionally detached from the woman next to her appears to barely acknowledge her physical presence next to her.
All the child can do is cry.
The shadow hauls a large duffel bag behind him. The shadow is no larger than a normal man. He wears a grey hoodie and black sweatpants. His boots leave footmarks in the soft mud of the undergrowth. The night is dark and the shape of the shadow is barely discernible against the backdrop of the woods.
It is silent, except for the sounds of heavy footsteps and a laden bag breaking the fallen twigs underneath as it is dragged along the earthen floor.
The shadow stops in the darkness, broken by only enough moonlight to cast him as a shadow. He drops the bag onto the ground. There is no sound but that of the bag crashing into the soft ground.
The shadow looks around and slowly starts to assemble a mound of sticks and stones. One by one he covers the bag with these sticks and stones and until it is entirely hidden under a mound. The shadow drops his frame onto his newly formed mound. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes. He extracts one from the packet, places it between his lips and fumbles in his pocket with his free hand for a box of matches. He pulls a match out of his cardboard home and strikes it alight. He touches it to the cigarette in his mouth and sets it alight. He tosses the match and puts the packets of matches, and cigarettes back into his pocket. He takes a drag of his cigarette as his chest heaves with the inhalation of nicotine.
