2. Turmoil will be prophetic (986)
Nov 20, 2020 17:11:06 GMT -5
Addy A, James Nightingale, and 1 more like this
Post by Corey Bull on Nov 20, 2020 17:11:06 GMT -5
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**A normal Northwoods evening. The sun is settling in the west, ready to call it a day. The view pans down, and immediately the light goes down two notches. The cedars of the swamp block out what little light remains. The sound of metal hitting the ground. Slow and methodical, brings the view to a hole. A hole occupied by the monster himself. Bull is digging, the hole almost level with his shoulders. Loa sits on a stump watching him, her breath visible in the cold air.**โPreparation is the friend to those that use it properly. Studying the opponents isnโt enough. One must look within each one and determine what makes them tick, what motivates them. Because within that information will be the crux of their undoing. But that only works with men. Not monsters, not my Hatebringer. Looking within him will just drive you insane gentlemen, so youโre better off learning to pray.โ
**Loa stands, taking in a deep breath and stretching her arms**
โI have watched so much tape. And with all I have seen and know, itโs amazing that it can be so horrifying to watch such a waste of flesh like Frank Lowe run around and pretend to be something special. Him and his goons, three mistakes trying to be something. Instead Frank, you simply proved to the world how unneeded you truly are. Time and again, your mouth spews itโs bile to the world. I truly tried to find the smallest of redeeming qualities about you Frank, but like in your pants, I came up short.โ
**Bull tosses the shovel out of the hole and climbs out like it is nothing. He stands there impassively looking at his work while Loa leans on him**
โLooks beautiful, doesnโt it Mintzel. Itโs amazing how the simplest of things can contain so much beauty. The interrupted layers of soil each telling a story. The creatures that burrow through the dirt will come to a large gap of missing soil and it will peak their interests. Creatures that crave the freshly moved soil will scurry to this spot, hoping to feast on what they can find. There is beauty here. I hope you find that beauty too Mintzel, for this is where my Hatebringer intends to put your corpse after he breaks you. In fact, this whole area is designated for your breed of the lost. My Hatebringer plans to make this a collection. One at a time, no matter what it takes. And you Mintzel get the opportunity to be the first of the breed that is lost to find its way to the Swamp That Never Forgets. Your fate is written all over you. It screams out to any that have the eyes to see it. You want the glory you once had, and you will do what you must to get it. But your body doesn't have what it used to. Your mind isn't as sharp. So you were targeted, sought out to fulfill a need. A tool that was needed. But you are not being honed and sharpened to be the ultimate weapon, but rather you are playing a side role in the epic that The Nightingale is writing. That means he holds the pen and directs you to do as he wishes. A shame that someone who once was so talented has instead fallen so low. But your epic return shall be finished soon enough. My Hatebringer now writes your final chapter.โ
**Loa slides off of Bull and walks to the swamps edge**
โNow Frank is a whole other animal. No, I am wrong. Allow me to apologize to any animal that hears me. He is lower than the common carrion beetle, for you serve no real purpose. Insects the feast on the flesh of the dead are more useful and worthy of life than you ever will be Frank. You exist to harass and exploit the weak and the innocent. You are the stereotypical male whoโs very lack of charisma fuels his masculinity to be toxic. You do not deserve that title, nor do you deserve to be mentioned in the same sentence as anyone who has worn that title. And yet, here we are. I have a special place just for you Frank.โ
**The view pans up to three nooses hanging over the swamp, slowly drifting to and fro with the wind.**
โItโs poetic. A place where you can finally be of some use. For the creatures of the swamp will need a feast when they finally emerge from their winter slumber. And the cold of the Northwoods will turn you into three meat popsicles. Because you wonโt be alone Frank. My Hatebringer insists that your two idiots join you. And again, like the breed of the lost, your Hangmen will be found and added to the Swamp That Never Forgets. It is written, so it shall be. I have foreseen your future Frank and it ends with a rope and a long swing through the Northwood winds. And my Hatebringer will be the force that puts an end to your title reign, bringing you to a place you truly deserve.โ
**Bull turns slowly, his frame adjusting and rippling. His eyes are black holes, vortexes pulling you into their depths**
โMintzel, your kind shall be dealt with in full. You are but the first of the lost breed to be euthanized. I shall not make it quick. Frank, you do not deserve that title. You do not deserve to live a life that you do not appreciate. But you will. And when you do...it will already be too late. Neither of you deserve what you have...but you most certainly deserve what you are about to get. You are the disease...and I am the cure. No MoRe NiCe ThInGs.โ
**The wind slowly blows through the trees, creating an eerie whistle as the camera crashes to white noise**