K.B. Knight's Blog
November 14, 2016
The Dempsey Mansion
The Dempsey Mansion
By K.B. Knight
-A short short story-
In Chillicothe, Ohio, some two hundred acres deep into a thick and lifeless-like forest, a mansion awaits. It has not felt the presence of a visitor in three decades due to the legend that goes along with it. It is said that whoever ventures into it will never come out to tell the tale of all its wonders and riches hidden inside.
Time has claimed the decrepit road leading to the mansion. It has long since dissolved into the earth leaving only a path scarcely visible to the naked eye. Anyone who ventures here would be forced to do so by foot.
Nathan, the heir to the thirty-room mansion, stands in the overgrown front yard along with three other people he recently met: Stacey, Kelly, and Jim. Together they gawk at the monstrous mansion before them under the eerie glow of a blood moon. Fog blankets the ground at their feet, but as they inch through the yard and up the porch, it appears to vanish as if guiding their way.
The porch is in shambles, just ready to give way upon the slightest touch, but it holds firm for them, if willed by something beyond human capability. Nathan pulls from his blazer jacket, an old discolored picture of a woman with remarkably flawless features. This goddess-like woman is Viona Dempsey.
Viona was an Irish woman who moved to the United States more than a century ago with only fifty dollars to her good name. She was a beautiful woman who turned heads everywhere she ventured. She struggled daily to earn the cash she needed to rent rooms or shacks for a night, sometimes the size of a walk-in closet, just to stay off the unforgiving streets. But after her first experience at failing to make the money she so desperately needed, which resulted to her sleeping on a bench in a park, she vowed to never allow it to happen again—no matter the cost.
Viona used the exact asset that caused people to turn their heads to her advantage: her divine-like body. She sold it for cash to businessmen, blue-collar married men, and even police officers. Women too paid considerably well for a chance to explore her impeccable body. It was not long until Viona was able to rent a significantly large apartment. And after tasting the small success of wealth, she began using her apartment as her headquarters to build an even bigger empire—one that was worth more than fifty million dollars. Greed and the love of her unique business aided in her desire to continue to grow. She bought a mansion to help house one hundred women who worked for her.
Although it was never confirmed, and many believed it to be a lie, legend has it that Viona had a dark unsettling side to her. It is said that she kidnapped women and forced them into a life of slavery, sex and drugs. And when their bodies were all but destroyed, she killed them off and kidnapped more to take their place.
Three rookie police officers paid her a visit. They indeed had a dark side about them. Viona happily invited them in. Unexpectedly they attacked her, all three—one after the other—ravaging her body over and over again until she was passed out from pain and exhaustion. And after the final officer raped her unconscious naked body for his eighth time around, he fired one bullet into her heart—killing her instantly. They buried her somewhere on her twenty-acre estate, along with their hideous secret for all time. They set fire to the mansion and strutted off as it burned to the ground.
Nathan reaches in his pants pocket and pulls out a skeleton key. He inserts it into the door and it unlocks with ease, spooking Stacey. “Something that has not felt the touch of human hands in the better part of three decades should not open with such little effort,” she mutters.
“I heard this place burned completely down,” Jim piggybacks. Together they venture inside, drawn by curiosity as if they were insects drawn to a blue electrifying light.
After the last person enters, the massive door slams shut without the aid of human hands. “I-I don’t know about this, Kelly,” Stacey stutters.
“Yeah, same here. Let’s just get rich and get the hell out of here.”
“No,” Stacey insists, “we shouldn’t be here. Something…I don’t know what, but something doesn’t belong here.”
“In the mansion?”
“On earth.”
“Oh stop with that bullshit,” Jim interrupts. “There’s no such thing. Try putting down those spooky ass books and you will be just fine, little lady.” Jim guffaws as he leans in to try his luck with a kiss from Stacey, but she is not there—no one is. Jim is all alone in what appears to be an empty bedroom. “What the…” he whispers, uncertain of his location. He shouts for the group, but all he hears is his own echoing voice. He shouts again, but this time his echoing words originate directly behind him, and it is not his voice. Frightened at what lies behind him, he explodes from the room and down the hall screaming for the group. He slows his pace as he comes to a brightly lit open door. He peeks inside and finds Nathan silently speaking to a remarkably beautiful young lady. Jim is utterly speechless, for Nathan’s body, as oddly as it may sound, appears to be transparent—and not of this world.
“N-Nathan,” Jim whispers. Suddenly the lady whips her head towards him revealing her rotting and discolored face without eyes. Jim shrieks in horror as he turns to flee back down the hall from which he came, but there is no such hallway present—only a window—and he crashes straight through it. He plummets five stories landing directly on an iron fence. The impact severs his body at the waist, but miraculously he is still alive, moaning, but alive.
Suddenly the overgrown grass slithers around each half of Jim’s body, cocooning it completely. And within seconds his body gone—dissolved into the earth. The eerie grass returns to its natural state.
“Kelsey,” Stacey whispers out, peering around in confusion, “w-where did Jim go? He was standing right here. Listen, we really need to leave. This place is bad.” She spins around and grasps hold of the large handle on the front door. “Kelly, are you coming with me?” She turns back for her but she is no longer there. Stacey is all alone. “Screw this shit,” she says as she swings the large door open. She dashes outside and slides to a screeching halt, utterly floored—standing in the middle of the kitchen. “How could this be?” she ponders. Stacey races to the kitchen door, opens it, and observes an older model police car in the backyard with the engine running. She inches forward, making certain that what she peers upon is real—and it appears to be. She explodes out the door towards the police car screaming for help. She gasps in horror as she realizes she is inside the mansion yet again, in the foyer, standing next to the front door. Her tears pour like a forgotten leaky faucet, realizing the evil house will not allow her to leave.
Sensing a presence behind her, Stacey slowly turns around to face it. She is no longer in the foyer, but in the basement this time, judging by the ancient fire-breathing furnace. She spins back around and flees—right into Nathan. “Nathan,” she whispers, gazing into his malevolent eyes. She slowly backpedals away from him.
A repugnant smell oozes from Nathan’s body. He slowly holds out his hand. It is dark in that sinister basement, but just enough light reveals what clinches tightly to: Kelly’s severed head, whose eyes blink chaotically as if she is still there—alive. Blood from her head drains into the concrete floor as if it was a sponge soaking it completely up without a trace.
Stacey slopes to her knees pleading for her life. Suddenly Viona emerges from the fiery furnace. Her leptosome grayish rotting body slowly crawls towards Stacey, who is frozen with absolute terror. Viona wraps her foul body around Stacey like a boa constrictor. And just as Stacey screams out, Viona sinks her jagged teeth deep into her throat, tearing her esophagus from her body. And just as she did with the others, she proceeds to drink Stacey’s body dry of all blood—completing the long-awaited process. Her body goes through a stupefying transformation into a flawlessly young woman, exactly how she was before her murder more than three decades ago.
Those officers who raped and killed her long ago have now paid the ultimate price for their misdeed. Each of them just atrociously lost their young due to Viona’s restless and malicious spirit, one that is now in human form and ready for the world—once again.
THE END
By K.B. Knight
-A short short story-
In Chillicothe, Ohio, some two hundred acres deep into a thick and lifeless-like forest, a mansion awaits. It has not felt the presence of a visitor in three decades due to the legend that goes along with it. It is said that whoever ventures into it will never come out to tell the tale of all its wonders and riches hidden inside.
Time has claimed the decrepit road leading to the mansion. It has long since dissolved into the earth leaving only a path scarcely visible to the naked eye. Anyone who ventures here would be forced to do so by foot.
Nathan, the heir to the thirty-room mansion, stands in the overgrown front yard along with three other people he recently met: Stacey, Kelly, and Jim. Together they gawk at the monstrous mansion before them under the eerie glow of a blood moon. Fog blankets the ground at their feet, but as they inch through the yard and up the porch, it appears to vanish as if guiding their way.
The porch is in shambles, just ready to give way upon the slightest touch, but it holds firm for them, if willed by something beyond human capability. Nathan pulls from his blazer jacket, an old discolored picture of a woman with remarkably flawless features. This goddess-like woman is Viona Dempsey.
Viona was an Irish woman who moved to the United States more than a century ago with only fifty dollars to her good name. She was a beautiful woman who turned heads everywhere she ventured. She struggled daily to earn the cash she needed to rent rooms or shacks for a night, sometimes the size of a walk-in closet, just to stay off the unforgiving streets. But after her first experience at failing to make the money she so desperately needed, which resulted to her sleeping on a bench in a park, she vowed to never allow it to happen again—no matter the cost.
Viona used the exact asset that caused people to turn their heads to her advantage: her divine-like body. She sold it for cash to businessmen, blue-collar married men, and even police officers. Women too paid considerably well for a chance to explore her impeccable body. It was not long until Viona was able to rent a significantly large apartment. And after tasting the small success of wealth, she began using her apartment as her headquarters to build an even bigger empire—one that was worth more than fifty million dollars. Greed and the love of her unique business aided in her desire to continue to grow. She bought a mansion to help house one hundred women who worked for her.
Although it was never confirmed, and many believed it to be a lie, legend has it that Viona had a dark unsettling side to her. It is said that she kidnapped women and forced them into a life of slavery, sex and drugs. And when their bodies were all but destroyed, she killed them off and kidnapped more to take their place.
Three rookie police officers paid her a visit. They indeed had a dark side about them. Viona happily invited them in. Unexpectedly they attacked her, all three—one after the other—ravaging her body over and over again until she was passed out from pain and exhaustion. And after the final officer raped her unconscious naked body for his eighth time around, he fired one bullet into her heart—killing her instantly. They buried her somewhere on her twenty-acre estate, along with their hideous secret for all time. They set fire to the mansion and strutted off as it burned to the ground.
Nathan reaches in his pants pocket and pulls out a skeleton key. He inserts it into the door and it unlocks with ease, spooking Stacey. “Something that has not felt the touch of human hands in the better part of three decades should not open with such little effort,” she mutters.
“I heard this place burned completely down,” Jim piggybacks. Together they venture inside, drawn by curiosity as if they were insects drawn to a blue electrifying light.
After the last person enters, the massive door slams shut without the aid of human hands. “I-I don’t know about this, Kelly,” Stacey stutters.
“Yeah, same here. Let’s just get rich and get the hell out of here.”
“No,” Stacey insists, “we shouldn’t be here. Something…I don’t know what, but something doesn’t belong here.”
“In the mansion?”
“On earth.”
“Oh stop with that bullshit,” Jim interrupts. “There’s no such thing. Try putting down those spooky ass books and you will be just fine, little lady.” Jim guffaws as he leans in to try his luck with a kiss from Stacey, but she is not there—no one is. Jim is all alone in what appears to be an empty bedroom. “What the…” he whispers, uncertain of his location. He shouts for the group, but all he hears is his own echoing voice. He shouts again, but this time his echoing words originate directly behind him, and it is not his voice. Frightened at what lies behind him, he explodes from the room and down the hall screaming for the group. He slows his pace as he comes to a brightly lit open door. He peeks inside and finds Nathan silently speaking to a remarkably beautiful young lady. Jim is utterly speechless, for Nathan’s body, as oddly as it may sound, appears to be transparent—and not of this world.
“N-Nathan,” Jim whispers. Suddenly the lady whips her head towards him revealing her rotting and discolored face without eyes. Jim shrieks in horror as he turns to flee back down the hall from which he came, but there is no such hallway present—only a window—and he crashes straight through it. He plummets five stories landing directly on an iron fence. The impact severs his body at the waist, but miraculously he is still alive, moaning, but alive.
Suddenly the overgrown grass slithers around each half of Jim’s body, cocooning it completely. And within seconds his body gone—dissolved into the earth. The eerie grass returns to its natural state.
“Kelsey,” Stacey whispers out, peering around in confusion, “w-where did Jim go? He was standing right here. Listen, we really need to leave. This place is bad.” She spins around and grasps hold of the large handle on the front door. “Kelly, are you coming with me?” She turns back for her but she is no longer there. Stacey is all alone. “Screw this shit,” she says as she swings the large door open. She dashes outside and slides to a screeching halt, utterly floored—standing in the middle of the kitchen. “How could this be?” she ponders. Stacey races to the kitchen door, opens it, and observes an older model police car in the backyard with the engine running. She inches forward, making certain that what she peers upon is real—and it appears to be. She explodes out the door towards the police car screaming for help. She gasps in horror as she realizes she is inside the mansion yet again, in the foyer, standing next to the front door. Her tears pour like a forgotten leaky faucet, realizing the evil house will not allow her to leave.
Sensing a presence behind her, Stacey slowly turns around to face it. She is no longer in the foyer, but in the basement this time, judging by the ancient fire-breathing furnace. She spins back around and flees—right into Nathan. “Nathan,” she whispers, gazing into his malevolent eyes. She slowly backpedals away from him.
A repugnant smell oozes from Nathan’s body. He slowly holds out his hand. It is dark in that sinister basement, but just enough light reveals what clinches tightly to: Kelly’s severed head, whose eyes blink chaotically as if she is still there—alive. Blood from her head drains into the concrete floor as if it was a sponge soaking it completely up without a trace.
Stacey slopes to her knees pleading for her life. Suddenly Viona emerges from the fiery furnace. Her leptosome grayish rotting body slowly crawls towards Stacey, who is frozen with absolute terror. Viona wraps her foul body around Stacey like a boa constrictor. And just as Stacey screams out, Viona sinks her jagged teeth deep into her throat, tearing her esophagus from her body. And just as she did with the others, she proceeds to drink Stacey’s body dry of all blood—completing the long-awaited process. Her body goes through a stupefying transformation into a flawlessly young woman, exactly how she was before her murder more than three decades ago.
Those officers who raped and killed her long ago have now paid the ultimate price for their misdeed. Each of them just atrociously lost their young due to Viona’s restless and malicious spirit, one that is now in human form and ready for the world—once again.
THE END
December 25, 2015
Excerpt Time - Kelsey's PlayGround
I shut my locker, straighten my collar, and head out to my playground to start another wonderful day in paradise. I have to go to the processing room and help process the fresh meat from today’s catch. The last time I did this, I met the man of my dreams. Only God knows what or who I’m going to meet this time around. But I tell you one thing I’m not going to look for another love. Someone has already claimed that spot, and it is no longer up for sale. However, there is nothing better than having sex with a new face, a complete stranger, someone who I can control and manipulate at will. I don’t consider that cheating. My heart is with the love of my life. Only he can have that. What I do on my playground has nothing to do with hearts. Men love their fast cars, workshops, and shit like that. I, on the other hand, like my sex, blackmail, and shit like that. I’m sure Michael would understand. Occasionally I will kidnap a girl for him to have his way with. Then I will kill her and…wait, no, no I won’t. I said there will be a new me. No more kidnapping, and definitely no more killing. I’ll just hire a hooker for him at times to spice things up.
We have a nice little healthy batch of potential candidates venturing into the processing room. My eyes are glued upon the tall black sexy one. His skin appears to be made from milk chocolate, and his arms—whew! Let’s just say impressive would be an understatement. They’re roughly the size of two massive pillars from ancient Greece itself. His head is completely shaven. He has a look written on his face that would turn a raging storm into the opposite direction. “Oh yeah, he definitely can get it,” I whisper as I continue to gawk at him.
As he steps up to the pitcher’s mound to get his photo taken, I suddenly lose interest in him. I am peering deep into the beautiful eyes of a female newbie who just entered the room. Her hair is wild, a mixture of blue, red, and blonde, just thrown atop her head in no particular fashion. I think I see a little purple as well. She has tattoos going across her chest, up her arms, and around her neck. I could only imagine that her personality matches her hair and ink. She is stunning—absolutely stunning. She makes every woman in here look like a…I guess I’ll be nice. There are a few sexy females here that I like, but they don’t even come close to this girl. Only my knight can be compared to her.
I notice this sexy bitch has a real problem with authority as well. She fights with the two officers upon every request or demand they make. But I see something else, something I haven’t seen since I was just a teen: pain, sorrow, and loneliness. Her hair, tattoos, anger—all a cry for attention—for love. She simply wants to matter in someone’s eyes. We correctional officers are the authority here, and the inmates are the pupils. She is the kid, and we are the parents. I just need to be a loving one, and maybe, just maybe I can guide her, develop her, and encourage her to do better, to want more out of life. And with me being slightly older, I already have the upper hand. If anything, a big sister I would make. I always wanted to have a sister. But don’t get it twisted, I’m still the head bitch in this place, and I need people to continue to fear me. So I can’t be too nice for too long with her. With that being said, if she defies me, I will give her a pass. Defy me twice; I will punish her—horribly.
“Hey, hey, calm down sweetie, calm down,” I calmly say as steadily I approach her. I don’t want to come off confrontational. I smile as I extend my open hand to her. My first goal is to establish trust. “Come with me sweetie. I’ll see you to your temporary room and make certain no one bothers you. She does not take my hand, but she does walk closer to me with her head hanging low. Her hair covers most of her face. It’s like she’s hiding behind her wall of hair, hiding her face from the eyes of cruel and judging people.
I walk her to the third floor where her new home will be for quite some time. Majority of the female inmates are hooting and hollering at her as we stroll by. They’re making catcalls, whistling, chuckling—you know, being like stupid men, but far worse. I say that because men are reckless, very rarely using their upper heads. But introduce a woman into the equation, and you will have yourself one hell of a problem. When it comes down to it, we are simply smarter by nature. We use our heads—as well as our hearts. We look at every possible outcome before we make the decision to do what we are set out to do. We are more calculating; we see potential problems and discover their solution long before we are even met with the problem itself. Now imagine a woman who is sadistic by nature, a killer—a predator of human lives, with that mindset. That’s where I fit in. But I don’t think for a second that I’m invincible. You see, these female inmates in here, they are no exception to the rule. They’re all smart, and exceptionally dangerous. You gotta watch your back dealing with these barbaric bitches. They will hug you, they will kiss you, but you give them your back, they will drive that dagger deep into you. They work in groups often. And let me tell you, two female heads acting as one is far superior to a dozen men using both their heads.
Even when I’m on the streets preying on my next victim to kidnap, rape, torture, and murder, I use my head and heart together. I listen to both, and if you listen well enough you can actually hear what they say. If they both agree, I attack without worries of being seen or caught. If my heart says one thing and my head another, I stand down and wait another day. A guy for instance, he would do it anyway, and unknowingly leave clues that will eventually be his demise.
We have a nice little healthy batch of potential candidates venturing into the processing room. My eyes are glued upon the tall black sexy one. His skin appears to be made from milk chocolate, and his arms—whew! Let’s just say impressive would be an understatement. They’re roughly the size of two massive pillars from ancient Greece itself. His head is completely shaven. He has a look written on his face that would turn a raging storm into the opposite direction. “Oh yeah, he definitely can get it,” I whisper as I continue to gawk at him.
As he steps up to the pitcher’s mound to get his photo taken, I suddenly lose interest in him. I am peering deep into the beautiful eyes of a female newbie who just entered the room. Her hair is wild, a mixture of blue, red, and blonde, just thrown atop her head in no particular fashion. I think I see a little purple as well. She has tattoos going across her chest, up her arms, and around her neck. I could only imagine that her personality matches her hair and ink. She is stunning—absolutely stunning. She makes every woman in here look like a…I guess I’ll be nice. There are a few sexy females here that I like, but they don’t even come close to this girl. Only my knight can be compared to her.
I notice this sexy bitch has a real problem with authority as well. She fights with the two officers upon every request or demand they make. But I see something else, something I haven’t seen since I was just a teen: pain, sorrow, and loneliness. Her hair, tattoos, anger—all a cry for attention—for love. She simply wants to matter in someone’s eyes. We correctional officers are the authority here, and the inmates are the pupils. She is the kid, and we are the parents. I just need to be a loving one, and maybe, just maybe I can guide her, develop her, and encourage her to do better, to want more out of life. And with me being slightly older, I already have the upper hand. If anything, a big sister I would make. I always wanted to have a sister. But don’t get it twisted, I’m still the head bitch in this place, and I need people to continue to fear me. So I can’t be too nice for too long with her. With that being said, if she defies me, I will give her a pass. Defy me twice; I will punish her—horribly.
“Hey, hey, calm down sweetie, calm down,” I calmly say as steadily I approach her. I don’t want to come off confrontational. I smile as I extend my open hand to her. My first goal is to establish trust. “Come with me sweetie. I’ll see you to your temporary room and make certain no one bothers you. She does not take my hand, but she does walk closer to me with her head hanging low. Her hair covers most of her face. It’s like she’s hiding behind her wall of hair, hiding her face from the eyes of cruel and judging people.
I walk her to the third floor where her new home will be for quite some time. Majority of the female inmates are hooting and hollering at her as we stroll by. They’re making catcalls, whistling, chuckling—you know, being like stupid men, but far worse. I say that because men are reckless, very rarely using their upper heads. But introduce a woman into the equation, and you will have yourself one hell of a problem. When it comes down to it, we are simply smarter by nature. We use our heads—as well as our hearts. We look at every possible outcome before we make the decision to do what we are set out to do. We are more calculating; we see potential problems and discover their solution long before we are even met with the problem itself. Now imagine a woman who is sadistic by nature, a killer—a predator of human lives, with that mindset. That’s where I fit in. But I don’t think for a second that I’m invincible. You see, these female inmates in here, they are no exception to the rule. They’re all smart, and exceptionally dangerous. You gotta watch your back dealing with these barbaric bitches. They will hug you, they will kiss you, but you give them your back, they will drive that dagger deep into you. They work in groups often. And let me tell you, two female heads acting as one is far superior to a dozen men using both their heads.
Even when I’m on the streets preying on my next victim to kidnap, rape, torture, and murder, I use my head and heart together. I listen to both, and if you listen well enough you can actually hear what they say. If they both agree, I attack without worries of being seen or caught. If my heart says one thing and my head another, I stand down and wait another day. A guy for instance, he would do it anyway, and unknowingly leave clues that will eventually be his demise.
September 5, 2015
The Lineup
“You know, a few of us here think we are dealing with a serial killer, one who hides in plain sight, one who blends in with the rest of us. What are your thoughts on that Kelsey?”
“I agree. It wouldn’t be the first.”
Frazier springs up from the chair, stretches to each side, and heads towards the door. “It would if it was a female,” he says as he closes the door behind him. I nearly choke on my saliva. I peer to the ceiling and notice a small camera aimed directly at me. I know what they are doing. I’ve seen it more than a dozen times on police shows. Frazier and whoever assists him are studying me at this exact instant. They’re studying my body language and everything else they can think of through that tiny camera. I can turn on the waterworks, but then they will think I’m crying because I got caught. I can sit here with no emotion on my face, but then I will appear to them as a woman without a conscience. Pretty much, how I see it—I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t.
The door opens and Frazier, accompanied by two deputies, escorts me from the room. They take me to an adjacent room where there is a large mirror on the wall and four ladies standing side by side peering into it. A large fluorescent light brilliantly shines down upon them illuminating every feature, every flaw on their body.
I am instructed to stand next to the last lady and face the mirror without talking or moving—that will be hard. And that unearthly light high above my head, it will penetrate my soul, revealing to them the monster that is cloaked in human skin. I can only imagine who is on the other side of the mirror trying to identify this monster in a lineup.
-Kelsey’s Playground-
By: K.B. Knight
“I agree. It wouldn’t be the first.”
Frazier springs up from the chair, stretches to each side, and heads towards the door. “It would if it was a female,” he says as he closes the door behind him. I nearly choke on my saliva. I peer to the ceiling and notice a small camera aimed directly at me. I know what they are doing. I’ve seen it more than a dozen times on police shows. Frazier and whoever assists him are studying me at this exact instant. They’re studying my body language and everything else they can think of through that tiny camera. I can turn on the waterworks, but then they will think I’m crying because I got caught. I can sit here with no emotion on my face, but then I will appear to them as a woman without a conscience. Pretty much, how I see it—I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t.
The door opens and Frazier, accompanied by two deputies, escorts me from the room. They take me to an adjacent room where there is a large mirror on the wall and four ladies standing side by side peering into it. A large fluorescent light brilliantly shines down upon them illuminating every feature, every flaw on their body.
I am instructed to stand next to the last lady and face the mirror without talking or moving—that will be hard. And that unearthly light high above my head, it will penetrate my soul, revealing to them the monster that is cloaked in human skin. I can only imagine who is on the other side of the mirror trying to identify this monster in a lineup.
-Kelsey’s Playground-
By: K.B. Knight
June 14, 2015
Peering at a monster
Feeling a terrible presence, Mary slowly turns her head towards the kitchen doorway, the source of where the evil lies in wait. It appears she just seen a ghost, for her eyes grow terribly large, and her breathing becomes dangerously shallow. She is frozen with utter fear. However, there is no such ghost. Her eyes lay fixed on a man who is far darker than any poltergeist could ever possibly be.
Sara spins her head around to get a glance at what steals her mother’s attention… and seemingly her soul. She is speechless at the atrocious sight of the massive dark silhouette of Travis Walker holding his axe, stained with the blood of his latest victim, tightly in his hands. The miniature cabinet light shining behind him only intensifies his chilling physical appearance. His eyes have a faint bluish glow to them as they gleam in the darkness like two blue diamonds reflecting moonlight from their surface. They give off a vibe of pure evil that has consumed a human body. And this evil has equipped Travis Walker with a demeanor that only hell could fabricate.
-The Darkness of White-
The Darkness of White
Sara spins her head around to get a glance at what steals her mother’s attention… and seemingly her soul. She is speechless at the atrocious sight of the massive dark silhouette of Travis Walker holding his axe, stained with the blood of his latest victim, tightly in his hands. The miniature cabinet light shining behind him only intensifies his chilling physical appearance. His eyes have a faint bluish glow to them as they gleam in the darkness like two blue diamonds reflecting moonlight from their surface. They give off a vibe of pure evil that has consumed a human body. And this evil has equipped Travis Walker with a demeanor that only hell could fabricate.
-The Darkness of White-
The Darkness of White
