In Death, We Shall Find Peace...

Once again, death playfully, yet mischievously, cast him back into life's cruel embrace. The gears of time began to reset the conscious mind of The Stranger, forever reminding him of the pain, misery, and now horror that he would always be one with. For his attempt at violence towards a living soul was not welcome in the afterlife, nor was he damned interested in one who could not commit to destruction.

The Stranger felt the gentle warmth of pure sunlight peacefully greet him as he awoke from the cold, dark void-a space representing the transition or oblivion between lives. But as a sharp wind whispers within the empty frozen, as the skeletons of dead families of trees stand as his witness. The Stranger's deformed, bare body lies within the center of the woodland, a pose carved by those frightened villagers who discovered his bloody corpse from the previous night's misfortunes. The shape of The Stranger's body shivered and twitched uncontrollably as his throat gasped for air, and the remains of blood oozed out of his mouth like a lonely, sickly child. Excavating the last of the blood from his jaws, The Stranger readied himself for life's next event.

Raising himself with weak and sore limbs, the Stranger sits up on his bruised knees as he studies his surroundings with untrusting eyes. Forest, nothing but a pure, undisturbed forest, seems to be his only companion. Feeling his heart begin to slow, though its undying vibration grew in strength as he walked out into the unknown realm of the frozen woods.

Several hours passed as the night's sky remained clear and unmistakable, enhancing The Stranger's loneliness as the darkness took him away from heaven's warmth once more.

Drowning in an unshakable state of suffering, The Stranger continues to travel deeper into the woods, all the while, poisonous whispers of judgmental souls mock his person. Soon, the ever-present snowflakes from an unforgivable storm slowly descend upon the undead shape of the lonely soul.

Waves from an unfrozen river crash into one another, aiding in The Stranger's isolation and misery. Stumbling about like a highly intoxicated drunk, The Stranger fell out of the woods and into the mocking realm of a long-abandoned graveyard. Miles upon miles of aged and ruined stones forged for deceased shapes rest awkwardly throughout the realm, despite their macabre appearance. Within this maze of the dead, a thing trails of blood silently as it ascends deeper into the graveyard. 

For some reason, a feeling of curiosity gripped The Stranger by his undying heart, his pale eyes captivated by this gruesome discovery. Reaching down, the Stranger rests his frozen fingers in the blood's fading warmth as a profound sadness takes hold of him. Gazing up, The Stranger crawls on all fours like a frightened infant as he follows the trail of blood deep into the graveyard's hollow heart.

As the undead male crawls for what seems like an eternity, for the first time, mysterious motives shift its gears towards this abandoned soul as the trail of blood reveals its unwilling master.

There, slumped over a ruined seat of stone, the fragile shape of a troubled young female, with painful cuts, herself in an attempt to end her suffering before her tormentor returns to claim her. Exhausted as death refused to ponder what to claim of this weak creature, the female's breath slows as her soul acknowledges the presence of another. Quivering uncontrollably as she attempts a seventh cut, the blood-soaked blade slides awkwardly out of the female's hands as tears of pure sorrow drown her soft blue eyes.  

Turning her tearful sights over her shoulder, the female barely makes out the dark silhouette of The Stranger, filling her heart with an unspeakable dread.

Gripped by a warmth never felt before, The Stranger recognizes that same loneliness and suffering in this troubled dove that poisoned his very person since his origin. Painfully rising to his feet, the Stranger approaches her with a gentle hand of compassion, but she does not see it that way.

Shaking her head as she turns away from him, the female tries to reach for her blade - sadly, after losing a considerable amount of blood, the female falls over as the darkness begins to take over. However, before she hit the frozen ground, a cold hand with a firm grip on her left shoulder pulled her in. Weeping softly, the poor female whispers one statement.

" Please... no more, please... no more, please... no more..."

Gently cradling her in his cold arms, The Stranger tries to hold her close - but after years of experiencing abominations, the female resists him with a strong stubbornness. Watching this wounded angel fight with what little strength remains in her person, The Stranger could look away from the ounces of free-flowing blood that oozed from her limbs. Shedding a single tear as this tiny river of crimson fluid reaches for the now-stained snow, The Stranger swiftly, almost as a blind impulse, grabs her bleeding wrist in a naive attempt to cease her pain. Replying with a different view, the female, believing him to be her tormentor, strikes The Stranger's chest with her blood-soaked blade, piercing his undead heart. He does not die.

Gazing upward with tearful rage, the female was taken aback as her weak eyes caught sight of an unfamiliar face. Taken by a sensation of warmth and comfort she hadn't felt since she was a child, the female expressed pity as she focused on the ugly, pronounced, and sickly scar that covered all over The Stranger's decaying face. Now, where the rest of the living world, even the eyes of his unloving mother, the female, look beyond the scar and into his black eyes, the Stranger replies by locking onto her tear-filled orbs of purest blue. 

Reaching up at The Stranger with the shaking, bleeding hand that she used to stab his person, the female touches his undead face in search of a sense of understanding. Although she desired to speak, The Stranger rests his gentle finger on her shivering lips, granting a sense of understanding compassion.

As the midnight's cold, brutal weather worsens, this lost, suffering pair find themselves in what could only be a dream embrace in silence amongst the dead, and a high-pitched wind screams as a fresh blanket of snow guides the pair into the realm beyond.

With the year coming to its inevitable end, I want to share one last short story with all you boils and ghouls. Featuring The Stranger from Lament of a Corpse, this story plays out like a gothic tragedy rather than a straight-up horror as the undead creature discovers a chance at life when he saves a troubled female who seeks to take her own life.