1that clear
THE BLACK ZODIAC
A body manifested by a crazed blacksmith in the dead of the night, he was created like a second Frankenstein, birthed on Hallow's Eve when the moon cast dark shadows o'er the graveyard and slick haughty beams of light that gave the place an eerie glow of narcissism.
He was of many after him, but a single before him. He was the second in a long line of failures. Strange odd creatures of the mists. Most with dark intentions; too weak in their build to fight it off. But he was stronger than them. The first was given will of it's own and the second was supposed to have none -as the first had left them. The first had supposedly ran away and the Blacksmith hired the Keeper to keep them in the dark hole they unanimously existed in.
The blacksmith had made a mistake. The third had little will of its own, more hazy than the second; more accepting of action without knowing the consequence. But it still had will.
The second had escaped under care of the Keeper. The boy was special, he could tell the future. Precognitive abilities were had by this special boy and the visions pointed towards an explosion of the Blacksmith's graveyard workshop.
The second was planning escape for that night. He warned the boy to run as well, run and hide. The boy resisted for a moment and then agreed at the fury of a slap from the second. The keeper ran, ran far and hid as the second pulled a switchboard from his own ruc-sack. The second hit a switch and pulled a trigger. He watched as the Blacksmith's shop exploded; a huge blast of fury in the colors of orange and red with a shine of yellow erupted from the insides as the glass shattered and the door blew off of it. The screams of the scientists were quickly harnessed and the smell of burning flesh sailed to the sky with a heavy black cloud of carbon dioxide.
"It was you," the Keeper said, stoically, wiping his face free of sweat from the heat. "I knew it was you."
The second merely nodded, "Yes, I suppose you would. Why did you free me? Don't you care for the Blacksmith?"
The Keeper shuddered in thought for a moment, holding back a tear, then abruptly shook his head. "No."
The second nodded again and regarded the soot covered clothing of himself and the keeper. "We run."
"Yes, of course. The wife would kill us. She's always wanted to."
"We need supplies."
"You don't need to worry about me," the Keeper muttered darkly, "I can keep up."
"Like hell," the second replied, "We need supplies."
The Keeper followed Second in the short walk to the Blacksmith's home. All of the lights were off, so the wife was asleep. They entered the house and ransacked the kitchen.
"Food, boy," Second demanded, "Grab the food, put it into this." He hastily shoved the ruc-sack into the boy's eager palms.
"What are you going to do?" the Keeper asked fearfully.
"What I must," Second replied. He entered the living room of the large house and regarded the walls. Animal heads were mounted and he spotted what he was searching for.
A dagger. A fine dagger, the blade mostly bronze but tipped with silver and the handle made entirely of gold with a small amethyst encrusted on the edge.
The Second yanked it off the shelf with such a force that the glass holding it up broke off of the wall and shattered to the floor.
"What are you doing in there?" the Keeper called quietly from the
kitchen.
"Quickly finish," Second snapped back, "Meet in the courtyard at the front."
"Aye!" the Keeper called back.
-
Hours later, the two companions stalked quietly in the dark night, just off of the railway tracks.
"You killed her didn't you?" the Keeper asked quietly.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"She knew about us," Second replied, studying his hands, "She knew everything."He picked at the small crusts of blood beneath his fingernails.
"She had to be silenced," the Keeper said slowly.
"Yes."
"I understand. How?"
"How what?"
"How did you kill her?"
"I slit her throat."
"While she slept?"
"Yes."
"She didn't awake at all?"
"No. She didn't even open her eyes."
"Oh. Well, that's good. She died well."
Second nodded to that, "Most don't. The wife was lucky."
"Aye," the Keeper replied. He paused for a second, then stopped walking and closed his eyes. "They were violet."
Second stopped walking and thrust his head back to watch his companion closely,"What?"
"Her eyes," the Keeper muttered quietly, "They were violet."
"Yes," Second replied slowly, with a small amount of emotion, "I suppose they were."
"And her face..." the Keeper muttered, "It was pale, but it got really red when she was angry."
"Like a rose."
"Yes," the Keeper replied quietly, "It was red. Too often it was red. Too much like a rose."
"I don't like roses," Second muttered quietly in condolence.
"Nor do I," the Keeper replied, opening his eyes.
And then they continued their walk.