Christian Wiser prologue part two

Christian needed a way to reset his mind, and make it current, as daylight savings does ever now and then. Nothing made any sense to him, this man, this place, yet everything seemed to be in line with life, except when he questioned himself; where was she! The only one he knew and loved that understood him, not as a friend, but like a sorrowful awe that hung in the shadows. A frolicking crowd of fans, all that adored him, crammed into one beautiful angel. She talked to him like she knew what the outcome would be, as if it didn’t matter what he said, after words came to end, a gentle sweet kiss would be in his grasp.


Startling forward the awkward man, now as thick headed as ever, shoved Christian several feet at a time until they arrived at a small log in the middle of the forest. Being in the middle of autumn, the trees were pumpkin orange and strung with green, yellow, and apple red leaves, falling and blowing at the slightest breeze. Crumbling at their footsteps, the strewed man wrestled Christian until he finally gave up from sheer force and threw him on the log where he sat upright, with heavy breath and a light sweat misting off his skin, flowing down to his chest and rolling off toward his lap. The man starred at Christian with a furious look of passion, like he needed to kill him, and was looking forward to it. The hunger for blood was almost full, and having the next meal was coming very soon.
Christian glanced back at him with the most pitiful of looks, wanting only to hold her in his grip one more time and tell her how much he loved her and cared for her, yearning for a sigh of relief and a gasp of passion. A tier rolled down his cheek and dripped off his chin landing on his foot, and gleaming in the sun. The man had been busy rummaging through his pockets, while at last he found an item of interest, his knife. Christian, in his ruined state, stood up openly and conversed with the man, mangled and as ruff as he was. “ Before you go and do that, I might actually know a little bit about your sharp friend over there”, he drug himself slowly over to the man’s ear and hinted at his knife with a nod of his head. “ I hope you enjoy scalping me or slitting my throat under darkness, because I plane to do the same to you in hell”, giving the man a strange smirk and sitting himself back down on the log he once lived gloomy on.
Dark was closing in on time and Christian was still stunned as his love was no where to be found, and night wasn’t helping him at all. The man had seemed to grow a belly over the time they were together, and a slower pace of mind was shown. He was nearly asleep in his own thoughts, knowing that Christian was as pale and dim as a school boy walking away from recess. And he would do nothing to harm him or touch him in any brutal or merciful way. So he did; leaning up against a stump, he flew into the night, under the coolest of dreams and calmest of thoughts.
Christian knew the man had fallen asleep, and knew that now was a chance for revenge, and a chance to get back what he so longed for. In the other hand, if he killed him, would he ever find her, his love and only, to hold and kiss her just once, before they both left this fluid planet. He had a reckon to choose from, if he killed him, his anger would drive him forever and give him strength to kill in days to come, without mercy; nor in vein of anyone except himself, as knowing that he would be the only sinner and would have complete thirst for more and more, never stopping. Or he could wait in the corner like he usually would, on any other day, except today.
Rising from his cradle, he rambled over to the man and starred him in the eyes until he lifted his own to him. As soon as his moment of reckoning appeared, he threw a knee into his mouth, breaking his jaw and shattering a few teeth. The man’s cry was so horrible, nothing came from his mouth, only silent shock and misery, grabbing his jaw and weeping from his eyes. Another lunge came from Christians fist and into the man’s chest, breaking a few ribs and rupturing his lungs.
Crying in pity, the man gave up and drew himself across the dirt to die, in dismay and corruption, for he was no longer in his hands, but god’s. Laying there nearly dead , with stained leaves and dirt smudged all around, he looked up at Christian with one last shot of Mercy, as to leave him and let him die alone.


Stepping away from the scene, Christian had the man’s knife, bloodied and dark, in one hand and dripping blood in the other. Scalping a man was harder than it sounds and Christian had trouble, but it was worth all the trouble to excruciate the pain of that man. And to see him in pieces, walking away from the forest, was all the thirst he needed to feed on until he found the person who stole his love.