Memory, such a fickle miracle, perpetual and the thing which tethered me to existence. Eternally cursed, I sensed the lull of chattering minds surging agonising thirst in blood.
Shrouded in the shadows, limping beneath shifting obscurities, hunting anamnesis of my prey, waiting with an offering and unmistakable hope. Hope was an irrefutable mirage.
Slithering, susurrating, I vandalised the incognizant, marauded memories, devoured identities, erased lives, offered lies, sabotaged sentience, left scars of nothingness, packed hell’s penitentiary with sullied souls. I am death’s ravager.