Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-28428152-20170225220720

This part of the story will probably remain mostly unchanged in the second draft. I actually was inspired by Twin Peaks for this part. Suggestions still welcome :)

I was in a wooded clearing, completely alone. Looking down, I saw that I was holding a gas can in my left hand, and a revolver in the other. Somehow, the gun looked familiar. I looked back up to see my parents standing a few yards away from me, the full, orange moon casting an eerie light on their faces. They were slowly shaking their heads in unision. After a moment or two, they blew away like dust in the wind, and were replaced by my maternal grandparents, who were nodding at me in sync with each other.

Then, their necks snapped with a loud crack, and they fell to the ground, thrashing violently. I heard a noise behind me and turned to see a large, black pitbull trotting up to me. She nipped my left hand, making the gas can drop. She picked up the can by the handle with her mouth, strode over the flailing grandparents, and drizzled the gasoline over them. Immediately, they started hissing and coughing vehemently. Then the black dog cast down the gas can and trotted over to a sapling that had not been there before. The dog barked at the falling, hissing bodies and curled up as if to go to sleep. The second the dog barked, though, flames erupted from the drizzled gas, and my grandparents immediately, became motionless and silent. Then I was sent into a furious rage, for I heard an insane cracking from somewhere. I realized it was me, and it went away, and the sapling started to ooze blood.

“Kill it! Kill it!” commanded the gaunt-faced boy fomr the bus, who was now poised on the other side of the tree, pointing at it. I tried to ask why, but my throat felt clogged and swollen.

“Kill it! Kill it! Kill it now!” he screeched. I raised the gun to the bleeding sapling. The pitbull whimpered.

“Kill it! Kill it! KILL IT!”

I shook my head and left the gun to fall to the ground. The boy stopped screaming and the dog wasn’t whimpering anymore. All was silent, save the soft crackling of the fire. The tree gushing blood like an open tap. Then the boy made a slicing motion across his neck with his finger, giving me a look of deepest loathing. He reached down and picked up a revolver. I looked down at my feet, but the gun was no longer there.

“How?” I asked. He only put his finger to his lips and put on a murderous smile. The dog was growling. The boy aimed at the tree.

Then he fired.

I collapsed to the ground instantly, screaming, clutching the new hole in my chest. Warm… Wet… hollow… Looking up, all was total emptiness, save the boy, who was now standing over me. He glowed a deep, blood-red. He smiled saintly.

“The tree!” I gasped through the blood in my lungs. He shook his head, still smiling sweetly.

“You,” he whispered, raising the gun to my face.

“Who are you?!” I wailed in agony.

“Names,” he spoke softly,” have power. And while I know yours, Benjamin Ross, I don’t think I shall tell you mine. I have many aliases…. Tragedy, Death, Loss, Lament, Misfortune… but you could just call me The Nameless.”

“Wh-AAAGH!!” I blurted through puddles of blood gushing out of my mouth… Some even through my eyes and nose.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, obviously knowing what I meant, but making me suffer the misery of talking.

“What do you WANT?” I sobbed to the ground. The Nameless hurled The Book of Agony in front of me, that severed head leering up at me.

“Though,” he added contemplatively, “what I really want, you can’t give… yet.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I choked.

“Only I,” he answered. He raised the gun again, his his smile even becoming more holier. Then he cocked the gun. 