Too Late

Blood

Lust

Thirst

In the parts unknown, in the deepest dungeons that only the darkest hearts know. Lower than the dwells that house the rats and the roaches lies the hell that is the lair of the Reverend Synister, his minions and his disciples. The Darkest Carnival is from hell itself, it’s the freaks, the lowest of the lows, the ones that were willing to give up their souls.

In the dwells house the droves of his followers, mindless and mindful alike and in the center of the room in front of a rather large figure, kneels a woman, with the longest and brightest red hair that has ever been seen.

Her voice rings out, reciting what they all have before her, “Bring me your damned souls. The ones that yearn to be free from the chains of society that binds them to the normal realm.”

The crowd erupts, the grunts, growls and slobbering bloodthirsty FREAKS yelling out. “SILENCE!” The man in the mask yells out. He limps towards the woman, reaches down and with the gentlest of touches raises her chin and his red eyes look into her emerald green ones, “Oh sweet child, you are ready. Rise. Take the message, bring their unwilling blood for us to feast on.”

A man in a hooded robe steps out from the shadows, “They are not ready.”

The large man in the mask cackles loudly, to the delight of the freaks, “They never are. Make me proud.”

The woman bends her head again and simply whispers, “Yes, master.”

The Souls That Belong To Him

Tuesday Night

The deep dark portions of your hearts, the ones that you don’t even talk about to your significant others, lays the damned that joins her master. Her father gave her no choice but he spoke to that part of her that excited her. She could throw up with the whole “love thy neighbor”.

That’s why when she pulled up through the neighborhood and saw the lawn ornaments, she almost lost the contents of her stomach there are the spot.

“How freaking adorable,” she said with disdain. She walked proudly up the driveway with her hired goons and an evil smirk on her face, “Boys, we got orders, only ONE room and we’re out. Are we clear?”

She doesn’t get an answer but they acknowledge with grunts.

“Paint?” she states and the one minion holds up a rather large bucket, “Let’s get to work.”

He who crosses him

The Darkest of Nightmares comes to play

Angel sits on the edge of the roof, looking up at the moon. She runs her hands over her hair, twisting it ever so slightly in her long fingers.

“Can’t stress this enough, my darlings. I don’t play games. Master thought it’d be a great idea that I would help him stretch his shadow across the land. PWE presents a most glorious opportunity for that exact goal. I’m not here to make nicey nice, and my very first opponents in my very first professional match will understand that EXACTLY!” she looks up at the heaves and takes the deepest of breaths, “ZOEY MADIGAN-STAR, ROSS HANSON, BETSY GRANGER, HOLLY RHODES AND TANK FERDINAND” she screams like a sigil on her life.

“All of your souls are in mortal danger. I wish you could all understand the torture of the wasteland of what real life is....what you know is only an illusion. Bring the darkness in, let it set in and let it fester. Accept that the only escape from the eternal darkness is through me as an extension of him.” she stands up and looks down, “It’s a long way to fall.”

“Trust in the darkness, loves. You don’t want to know what he does to those that believe the light will save the day.” she spreads her arms wide, and allows herself to fall from her perch. All you hear is the woosh and then the cackling laughter.

“Join us. Before it's too late.”