Hephite and his family moved to a little town one day in Oklahoma and lived in a house on top of a hill; before they lived in a large mansion in Italy. Why did they leave? Well, let’s just say that Hephite can use his mind to move things, and in a large mansion crowded with precious belongings, it didn’t end very well. You see, Hephite can’t really control his power.


His body sprawled across the floor of his new room, clear of everything limited to a blanket and a stack of pillows. With a sigh, Hephite closed his eyes to fall asleep when his mother called him from downstairs, “Hephite! Don’t want you to be asleep for your first day of school, dear! Come down and eat breakfast!”

He groaned in irritation and got up, his footsteps heavy as he went down the flight of stairs to the kitchen and, to his displeasure, his father was there. Hephite shot a glare at him before padding to his mother, who gave him a plate of scrambled eggs and sweet sausage; his favorite! He sat next to his father, who promptly tipped his searing hot cup of coffee onto Hephite’s purple shirt.

He screeched in pain as the coffee burned his flesh, and then gradually cooled down. His father was laughing sadistically as Hephite abandoned his food to take an icy shower. He left the soothing comfort of the droplets when he realized he was going to be late. Hephite looked at himself in the mirror; scars covered his chest and a new burn was there. Looking at the black hoodie he brought in, he threw it on with the normal black sweats. Running back downstairs, he grabbed the sweet sausage- can’t let that go to waste- and charged out the door backpack in hand.

Hephite sprinted down the hill, apparently too quickly because he stumbled when he reached the bus stop already flooded with people, and knocked over a few little kids younger than him. His eyes widened as he helped the children up, apologizing to each, then raced onto the bus.


The bus stopped in front of his new high school. It was a large building for such a small town. He saw groups of people staring at him like he was some sort of zombie. It was always like this. His skin was grey because he was frail; his eyes were blacked out by his shoulder length black hair. Not only that, even he was just as deprived of any nutrients as he looked; skinny and head hanging low as he walked into the school.


It was the end of the day; Hephite didn’t want to leave and encounter his father when he got home; however, there was nothing he could do about it. He gathered his belongings into his bag neatly, stood up, and was about to leave the teacherless classroom only to be countered by a bulky looking jock. “Where do ya’ think you’re going, frail boy? You haven’t even gotten the initiation.” The jock popped his fingers as he readied himself to punch Hephite square in the face when a force kept him from doing so.

His eyes glared at the spot Hephite was supposed to be, but he discovered he wasn’t there anymore. The jock looked all around him and found out he had crawled right past him. He couldn’t pursue his prey for some reason unknown to him as Hephite passed through the school doors and towards his little house on a hill.


Hephite unlocked the door and trotted in, and saw his dad in the kitchen, cleaning something at the sink; however, his mother wasn’t there. Strange…He went upstairs into his room, so he wouldn’t have to suffer an encounter with his father. Right when he shut his door, a wave of silence enveloped him. No noise. Nothing. He stepped to his pile of pillows to find a picture of his mother, father (though his face was ripped from it), his brother and him.

He remembered how his brother died, it always made him feel like his heart was breaking again when he recalled that day.

Hephite cringed against his brother as the door to his room was slammed against, that’s when the noise ceased. Hephite glanced at his brother, “Nura. Is it safe now?” Of course being the younger brother Hephite was always in need for protection. Nura stood up, his brown hair reached his shoulders like Hephite’s and his pale skin seemed to gleam in the moonlight coming from the nearby window.

“I’ll check it out. Hephite, stay here.”

He nodded as his brother went to his door, cautiously opening it. A knife tip was seen peeking out of Nura’s back. Hephite stared in horror as his brother’s body hit the floor with a ‘thud’. He noticed his dad, waltzing away, not even looking at Hephite.

Hephite crawled up to his brother and noticed he was still alive, “Nura! Nura!” tears streamed down his cheeks.

Nura smiled at his little brother as the light faded from his eyes and his skin got colder. Hephite knew his time was up, his heartbeat was absent when Hephite checked. Nura was dead.

Hephite fell on his pillows, sobbing into the soft fabric, his hand still clutching the photo until he heard enraged knocks on the door. He spun around, staring at the door, not making a sound. The knocking ceased, and he could hear footsteps fading down the hallway and the front door slam shut. Hephite, out of curiosity, peeked out his window to see his father getting into his car and driving down the street. He let out a sigh of relief and left his room.

He fell down the stairs, still dizzy from crying, and laid at the bottom for a few minutes before finally getting up and going to the sink. His hand moved to the faucet and turned it on when something shimmering caught his eye beside the sink. His eyes flicked to the object and discovered a very large knife among the silverware. He came to the conclusion that this is what his father was cleaning; however, instead of meddling he shrugged it off and went upstairs into his parents’ room to search for his laptop among the other crap in there.

Hephite dug through the piles of clothes, “He would hide my laptop in the weirdest places. This should be a good start.”

The pile seemed to be stacked with an innumerable amount of clothing; it was like he threw his entire closet right on this spot. Hephite’s finger grazed something smooth, squishy and cold and reared back. Being a curious cat, he dug deeper, revealing a leg, then a torso, arms, and a face; he stared at it for a few seconds until his eyes filled with dread and terror. The body looked like his mother, slashed and stabbed several times, her eyes missing.

Hephite covered up the body again and dashed to his room, just before his father slammed the front door behind him. He scanned his room and his eyes landed on his window. It was pitch black outside. How long was he in there?! “I can’t believe it. My mother, the one I loved after Nura died, is dead! And I saw the corpse hidden by my father’s clothing!” he fell on his makeshift bed of pillows and his blanket and passed out.

Hephite looked around himself. He was dreaming, but it seemed so realistic. Red smoke was mixed with a black fog all around him. He rubbed his eyes, the opened them to see a blurry figure before him. It extended its hand to him and spoke, “Hello child, I see you are having some issues that are harming your conscious and sanity. I can offer you the ability to kill the one you called father.”

“You mean, you can help me get my revenge for my mother? My brother? You could do this?”

“Heheh, of course child. I can offer you this, and more.” The figure cackled as Hephite’s vision cleared up slightly so he could see him better. He was covered in spiky mouths, and his face was revealed to be demon like.

Hephite woke up in a cold sweat; he rubbed his head to try and sooth the irritation in his head and left his room. “That was one hell of a nightmare. Haven’t had something like that in a while.” His feet guided him down the stairs and into the kitchen, and he got a glass of ice water.

He finished the glass and placed it in the sink. Standing there for a few minutes he realized a red fog was slowly filling the room. Hephite turned to see the creature from his dreams, his subconscious filled with his name. Zalgo. Again, just like in his dream, he held out his hand, waiting for Hephite to grasp it. Hephite couldn’t resist the temptation to take it in his hand, so he promptly clutched it in his own.

Zalgo smiled sinisterly as Hephite’s irises glowed red and his white flashed to a pitch black. An ebony liquid was dripping from his waterline as if the color was being drained from his eyes. Hephite cringed in pain and clutched his head which was pounding in pain. He stood there in pain until he noticed a strong urge to grab a knife and stab something, to kill. He snatched the knife from the counter and went passed the dissipating form of Zalgo and stepped up the stairs into his father’s room. He was sleeping, so peacefully, so…quietly. “He will stay quiet and peaceful forever.” His eyes wandered to the desk where he remembered a string and needle.

His mind located the red thread and lifted it to where it was floating above his father’s head. A devilish smirk planted itself on his face as he crawled up to his father, waking him. The knife was held tightly in his hand as his father’s eyes revealed complete and utter horror as he yelped. Before he could make another noise the needle and thread were sliding through the skin of his lips, sealing them shut. Hephite let out a psychotic chuckle as he brought the knife down on his father’s chest, cutting it open all the way to his stomach.

Blood gushed out of his father’s body in waves as Hephite stabbed his vital organs; lung, stomach, kidneys, and, finally, his heart.

~Next day~

“Two adults have been found, one was stabbed several times while the other’s mouth was sewn shut and his stomach cut open. A knife was discovered in the heart of the male victim. Police suspect it was the work of their son, Hephite Skarlile. Several other reports of murder victims having their mouth sewn shut have also been reported. Hephite Skarlile was last seen leaving the site with what seemed like a skinny humanoid figure. If you see him, don’t approach, for he is dangerous.”

The TV screen faded to black, but the audio was still there. You could hear confused voices, questioning why the cameras shut down. Suddenly, various screams were heard and died down after five minutes. Silence was all that could be heard, until one voice broke the silence, saying with a slight echo, “I just wanted silence. Now they won’t make a peep. EVER.” the screen flashed back on to reveal a destroyed site, all the news reporters, their mouths sewn, and blood oozing from deep slashes in their skin.

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