FW 27: Massacre

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Confused about post length? See the ToC linked below, read it well.

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He knew that he was dreaming, but it was too real of a dream. Northern wind blew past his mask, the cold unfelt. He had been waiting in that spot for a very, very long time. Very calm, he was, his pulse even slower than it was normally. The sun was slowly passing the human world by, night encroaching.

He watched all of this. Long had he grown accustomed to removing himself from the situation, as he knew how to not regard himself by a person — one with a conscience, one with feelings. It was instinctive sort of self-protection, as he had to commit acts without thinking to prevent himself from going mad.


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