Occasionally, I would remember little pieces. Like finding a picture in a cupboard you thought was empty. I look at it, I study it to the smallest detail. I begin to grow attached to it. Then, before I know it, the feeling is gone. The picture disappears, and the memories with it.

It looked pretty far. Staring straight down the falls, through the foaming waters crashing against whatever lie below, Victor saw his end. His only acceptable future. A thin spray struck his face, irritating his already bloodshot eyes as he backed up from the edge of the small walkway. He'd been counting the seconds that went by as he stared down at the bottom, contemplating suicide. Seventeen seconds. For a fraction of a second, he felt as if something...something had connected. He'd somehow channeled someone's presence from not long ago. He felt so comfortable here, on the verge of death. So familiar.

Sometimes I got desperate. I needed something to give me meaning. Purpose. A reason to keep going to work, to keep my marriage together.

He'd tossed his coat over the edge a few minutes ago, just to watch it flutter down. It was almost beautiful, the way the sleeves flapped, like frail little wings trying to lift the thing to safety. It could not fly. It fell, like a stone. Like a man. Into infinity. Into nothing.

Sometimes I just liked to see how close I could get.

He rolled his sleeves up now, breathing heavily. His dress shirt was stained with dried, week-old blood on the back. His slacks were relatively clean, save for two bloody patches on the knees from an altercation a few days prior. He looked like a Wall Street man, down on his luck. Desperate for an out. The look was half right. He stepped to the edge again.

Just to see how close I could get to death and come back. How close I could be with Heaven. With God.

Reaching into his shirt with his right hand, Vic grabbed the walkway safety rail with his left, and pulled himself up. Standing on the very end of the small passage, his right hand clutched his treasure, his only reminder of a life he never knew: the ring, a golden band on a chain around his neck. He held it tight, and remembered the name inscribed upon it.

I could never get very close. Not as close as Lilly.

She was too good for me.

"I'm coming."

"Then go already."

There was something beyond apathy in that voice as it crept upon Victor, something seething hate. Loose ribbons of cloth on the ends of the stranger's coat danced with the wind, his rather thin physique masked by the dark folds. Had the jumper looked over, he would've thought the man was a demon- and it wouldn't be the first time.

"You whine like a mongrel. If you wish to release, then do it."

It's here, Victor. He followed you.

He stopped. Just a second from pulling himself over and diving into the void, Vic stopped cold. The gravely whisper of the creature that haunted him beckoned him to turn. He did so, again backing away from the edge, and came face to face with a monster. Wrapped from head to waist in the same black ribbon that dangled from his raincoat, only his eyes shined through the black. Pained, radiating fear and loathing at once, he stared deep into Victor's soul, and saw the filth inside.

"You're not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to be out! The thing is gone!" Vic screamed, confused and pointing up at the darkening sky. The air began to chill, now, as the setting sun cast a massive, ghoulish shadow over Victor Senzatetto. The dark form stretched out beyond him to just a few inches from the stranger's feet, warping and twisting before taking its final form. A human form. Claw-like, hooked fingers nipped at the stranger's boots, doing nothing, but threatening with a deadly hiss that confirmed the creature's intent. Victor could only watch in awe, and fear.

"No...no. You're not one of them. But then...what? What are you? Another one. Another...demon. Tell me! What do you want?"

"You're the one who wanted to jump, so I said do it."

The Ribbon Man took a step back, and if he could've shown contempt in his face, he would have. His eyes shoot back and forth between Victor and the ground, watching the snarling being form at his feet. Masked by the musky wrappings around his mouth, he smirked. This one was a special case.

"As for who I am..."

The Ribbon Man's left hand rose in front of his face, clenched into a fist as he thrust it forward. He held it there for a moment, his eyes digging further into Victor with that same, anguished glare. His arm spasmed, as if he were fighting some invisible force pulling at his hand. Grinding his teeth, he released his grip on the phantom force, opening his hand to reveal a red spot at the center of his palm. The black ribbon circled this exposed patch of flesh, but did not touch it, framing the raw flesh as it began to bleed.

"...it's not for you to know."

Tensing his hand again, the Ribbon Man howled in pain as the blood dripped from his palm, pooling at his feet and repelling the hostile shadow conjured up by the suicidal fool. Quickly covering his hand, he hissed as the blood exploded into a haze of red mist, swirling around the stranger until finally seeping back into his skeletal frame through his clothing.

"Jump already, or I'll help and push you."

Victor's eyes widened as he tried to speak, tried to ask one final thing from his maker, and made little more than a whimper. The shadow stretching in front of him jerked back in fear of the Ribbon Man, enveloping its master as the man in the coat demonstrated his abilities. The shadow seemed to push Vic back, away from the creature. He wanted out. He needed so very desperately to get away.

"You stay back. You stay back or I swear to God I'll kill you." he growled, tears vanishing as the shadow swirling around him again reformed, this time as a larger, feral creature, flashing jagged fangs as it stepped forward to protect its master.

The Ribbon Man scoffed at the sight of the two-legged lionness standing before him. He looked the creature over once, taking note of its distinctly humanoid hands, then returned his gaze to the quivering man behind it. There was little Victor could do to keep the Ribbon Man from his prey now.

Again thrusting his hand out, the Ribbon Man attacked- this time, however, there was no blood. Slithering out like hellish serpents from his palm, the black ribbon sought the shadow-beast's arms and legs, trapping it in a web of increasingly dense black cloth. Victor cowered behind the entangled beast, looking over at the Ribbon Man as the black mass the surrounded him literally shifted to his left arm, leaving the right side of his face completely exposed.

Even through the murderous haze of the whipping black tendrils, he could make out the rows of scar tissue running up and down the man's face, as if he'd taken lashes to the face. He had no hair, his nose little more than a hunk of cartilage hanging over his nostrils. Whimpering as his shadow-beast fell, strangled by the constricting ribbon, he stole his last glimpse of the Ribbon Man's face before the black mass returned to its place. The cloaked assailant paid no attention to the flailing shadow withering away on the ground, swiftly driving his boot into Victor's face before he could will himself to rise to his feet.

"Swear to God all you want. What's he gonna do here in Hell?"

Victor collapsed on his back, gasping for air as blood quickly flooded his nose and throat. He rolled onto his side, a jet of dark red mucous dripping from his mouth. Panicked at the sight of his own blood, he covered his nose, unable to stop the flow. The Ribbon Man did nothing; he simply watched as Victor struggled with his injury. Blood filled his nostrils, jetting out through his tear ducts and eliciting a final scream before the man in black grew tired of simply watching.

"You're a whiner. Come here!" he ordered, his right hand swinging wide to slap Victor's away from his face. Grabbing him by his blood-stained collar, he pressed his open left hand against the broken man's mouth.

"Did you enjoy that? Hmm? Was it fun, trying to fight me? I hope it was. I hope you fucking loved it. Goodbye."

The ribbon inched across his face, scraping against his skin like sandpaper. Slowly, it crawled around his head, tightening as it passed his temples, squeezing as it cut off his air. The black mass engulfed his head, muffling the final, desperate cries of a stupid man who thought he could steal from a devil. In a few moments, it would swallow him whole- but not without reclaiming what he came for. Reaching from Victor's collar to his throat, he ripped a thin chain from his neck, examining the ring strung on it intently. Tossing the withered husk of Victor Senzatetto aside, he shoved the ring into his coat, and was on his way.

"She was too good for you."