Solomon Trussle was a man of. Finer tastes, he had the best of everything, the best car, the best house, the clothes. But there was one thing he didn't have. Love, Solomon Trussle was a lonely man who with time became bitter and cruel. And perhaps evil, for he had a past time that most would deem wrong, evil and vile. He likes to hurt people.
Once he came upon a poor basket maker, the man, who claimed he was the wicker man. But Solomon saw through his lies and decided to punish him. "Come to my house and make me one hundred wicker baskets and I'll pay you a fortune." The man believed him and came to the house late at night. As per request, he cane rapping at the door. The butler, a man of mystery opened the door with a solemn expression. "You must the wicker man, come in master Trussle is expecting you."
The man made his way through the house a dark shadow ever present. Finally he can to the door, he reached out for the handle as chills ran up his arm. The sound of the opening door causes Solomon to turn to the man. "Good your here, come with me I'll escort you to the room."
After a rather quiet and long walk, they made it to the door. "It's just in here. Your gonna earn every penny."
They enter the room, the man looks around the room in confusion. "Where is the wicker?" The man asked with slight fear.
Solomon turned to the man with evil in his eye. "I deem you vile and disgusting for your lies. I'll teach you a lesson." The door slowly creeks shut as screams of agony are heard echoing through the damned halls.
