The Untold Story Of: The Tooth Fairy

Prologue

As he walked the rolling hills, bathed in the warm glow of afternoon light, his senses were suddenly overwhelmed by the sound of agonized screams. He followed the haunting melody until he came upon the place where innocent blood had been spilled. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and death.

Upon a verdant meadow, there lay a flurry of activity, yet never did the thought of unraveling the cause behind such atrocities ever cross his mind. For him, pondering over such matters robbed the thrill of it all. No, he preferred to take in the entirety of the spectacle, relishing the euphoria it brought forth. The screams were like a symphony, their rhythm penetrating his ears and luring him closer, to their potency and to the very essence for which he killed.

As his footsteps drew nearer, his every move was suddenly drowned out by the cacophony of chaos that engulfed the area. He was but one of the many unspeakable horrors that lay in wait at that very moment, concealed in the shadows.

That was how he became invisible.

He was not there.

With a movement akin to that of a malevolent forest sprite or a solitary bird of prey surveying a wolf feasting on its prey, he passed by like a mere onlooker.

As in all facets of existence, the ear-splitting clamor of metal on metal reached a sudden and abrupt halt, like the final curtain call of a grand theatrical performance. Nothing good lasts long. Although, for him, the good thing for which he had gone was just about to begin.

When the field was abandoned to the mercy of his hunger, he emerged from the shelter of the forest. No longer did he require the protection of the knotted trees, for the moon had ascended into the sky, casting an eerie peach-black hue over the land. The thick clouds of smoke encircling overhead barely allowed any light to seep through, save for a faint silvery sheen that trespassed the darkness, leaving a haunting and surreal aura.

It was not as though he held any great expertise in the matter of what had caused the calamity before him, nor did he have much inclination to uncover its origins. His parched tongue and gnawing hunger, however, rendered him even less concerned with unraveling the mystery. Instead, it was his instinct that propelled him onward, through the encroaching shadows and towards the undulating hills that lay strewn with lifeless forms, tainted by the stench of injustice.

At least that he understood.

Although devoid of emotions and a soul, he remained conscious of the unpleasantness that had transpired, recognizing that it far exceeded the bounds of what was deemed "ordinary." Though human ears may not have picked up on it, he could sense the distant echoes of screams that reverberated into the night. Alongside the pungent stench of rust and chaos, he also caught a whiff of terror, hopelessness, and misery, which was perhaps even more overpowering. In truth, these scents bore a striking resemblance to the ones he occasionally emitted. Nevertheless, the two were wholly different. Human fear and "monster" fear, as they so often referred to him between screams. 

As he ambled along, his gaze drifted towards the multitude of lifeless figures scattered about, each one a somber testament to a story yet untold. But his senses could not transport him to that place, to the deep layer that had a written name and an untold past.

Surely, in his youth, there must have been a moment when he had felt intrigued by the marvelously diverse ways of human behavior. If such an occasion had transpired, he could only envision the wondrous beauty of being merely curious. Under the spell of this notion, he attempted to summon any memory of such a time, yet his insatiable appetite for killing and devouring rendered all else inconsequential. His mind was consumed by a darker force, and the purity of youthful curiosity was but a fleeting dream.