PaperFresh Shots

The Fox Of Desires

The young monster looked around the room, taking in the eyes. So many sinful eyes, so many sinful desires and so many nightmares, all of them in one small room.

The child was surprise that the room had not rotted away when all these people came in it! He was surprised that they had the ability to smile like something was funny from how dark their souls were!

"What a mistake." A man with a handle-bar mustache grumbled out, shaking his head as some smiles fell.

"We didn't want to make a child!" Cried a woman with short, spiked hair.

This caused more smiles to fall, until there was only sneers and glares.

The tallest and strongest man pulled out a knife, bringing it to the young being's throat. His green eyes were dull and lifeless, cold and without mercy.

"You wish me dead? When you were the ones to make me?" The little one called out, voice of a young little girl, voice of a siren.

The men and women stiffened as they heard the voice. They had seen what the stars told them, yet the foolishly went ahead. Fools they were, but they weren't cowards.

"Kill it! Kill the stupid thing!" The house wife screamed at her husband.

The man's eyes went cold and merciless once more, just like it was before. He has killed infants many times prior, some of his own blood, others from swiping them from their beds.

He did not hesitate to behead the child, but it was his head that fell.

The humans didn't have time to scream or run or anything of the sort. Their bodies became nothing more than ash and dust, their souls and power belonging to the creature they had created.

The dark monster could only stare dully at the death. They couldn't find it in their soul to feel something of any sort. Not remorse, not confusion, nor joy, neither guilt. It was like he was an empty shell, a shell that was waiting to be filled.

Humming to himself, he walked out of the dark room. He wished not to worry about something that had no meaning. They were his creators, but they wanted to become his executioners. They were merely foolish mortals and mortals die no matter what they say.

For years and years, the child of magic helped people. He saw the rise and fall of great kingdoms and religious practices. Still, he found no room to care for these people and things.

His silent steps stopped as his three tails flicked softly behind him. His ears twitched slightly as an oddly sweet scent filled him.

The scent warmed his cold bones as the late fall day blew a winter's breeze at him.

"What do you wish, mortal?" He called out, finally turning around.

The mortal was a skeleton monster, a pale boned monster. They wore simple clothes, only a white shirt with brown trousers and an old pair of hunter's boots. On his shoulders was a black, bear cloak, a leather satchel on his side. Their eyes were a magenta color, one of them being a soul that was cracked.

Upon seeing the creature of legend, the mortal froze in his steps.

The stories had said that the monster of true magic was a gorgeous being, a being worthy of God, yet their description of the enchanting being were poor, horrible representations.

The creature of legend was a dark boned skeleton, whose bones moved gently, slowly like melting wax, or freezing ink. They bore ears of a fox that were a fuchsia pink color with a gold yellow on the tips fading in with the pink. This deity had three, broad, thick tails that calmly whished behind him, the same color as their ears.