It was a day of cold remorse, and it seemed that only darkness enveloped me. So dark, it was, that even the sun seemed to glare down at me with cold disdain, like my very action insulted its glowing mass. The mayor of my “fair” city projected his voice among the people, asking them inquiries like “Who is the real monster here?” to which they would constantly scream “Viktor Straw!”. If you ask me, they’re all hypocrites... if they could even understand in the slightest, most insignificant strand all the good I’ve done for them, then I wouldn’t be hanging from this cross right now.

The mayor turned to me, looking into my bloodshot eyes with his cold gaze. Even now, hanging bloodied from this cross, I feel no fear. All I feel is disappointment... disappointment in myself, for not protecting the people from what they fear the most... myself. Then, after disappointment, I felt a horrid sting in my chest, as the mayor gleefully stabbed me in the heart with a rusty sickle. A splash of crimson escaped my lips, as I tried to cling to my life, slowly slipping away. Over the shadows clouding my mind and blocking my ears, I could make out the muffled cheers of the crowd, as my blood slipped to the stage...

And then... I woke up. I found myself in a dank pseudo-h***, possibly of my own imagination, but it seemed more physical. I looked down to discover in horror that my flesh had been turned into a sickly cross between burlap and skin, and that my hands had grown unnaturally sharp claws in place of my fingernails. I tried to scream out, but was shocked to discover that my mouth was sewn shut with thick black thread, and I could only scream out through my mind. But when I screamed, it echoed through my mind through the dark halls all around me, as if my lungs had grown and collapsed with grotesque grandeur.

I fell to my knees, clutching to myself, unable to comprehend what was happening to my once-mortal existence. And then... he stepped into my field of vision. Lucifer, the d***ed fallen angel that had wronged me with this curse and allowed me to die so cruelly. I got up, yelling at him mentally, to which he replied “Calm yourself, Viktor Straw... or you will never return to your city”. Faced with no choice, I silenced myself and listened. “Why take your anger out on me, when it is the people above that have sent you here?” he asked me, an eyebrow raising in contemplation.

“Very well”, I muttered in slight irritation “what would you have me do?”. The fallen angel smiled, and explained his bargain to me. After he explained, he snapped his fingers, and I was flooded in blinding white light. When my immortal red eyes opened, I looked around to find myself back in my pagan city once more. Hearing approaching footsteps, I scampered on all fours towards a cornfield, and, hanging myself from a perch, mimicked the lifeless man of straw and cloth so that they would walk past without paying any mind. After they passed, I looked to the right of the cornfield, spotting an unspeakable act of pain and ecstacy. A young lady, being beaten by the owner of the farmland, in the process of trying to rape her. Skulking closer in the blending nature of the stalks, I crept ever so silently towards the obese fiend. Picking my weapon of choice, a farming scythe, I crept so close that I could feel the heat resonating off of their joined bodies.

Without even thinking, I swung back, and crashed the blade down hard onto his skull. I felt the shock of the impact run up my boneless arms, and his blood splashed onto my coat, as the girl screamed in fear. I told her that I wasn’t here to harm her, but instead, I saved her. Realizing that this was true, she picked up what remained of her tattered clothing, and ran off. I skulked back to the perch, and hung myself up for the long night ahead.