[b]A SPECIAL BROADCAST[/b]

Noul had shrouded himself in complete darkness, but had he done it intentionally, he didn't know. His memory didn't work properly; he would forget things in a matter of minutes. There was just this one thought that anchored him to this plane of existence: he had to listen to the radio. So there he was, sitting in a room where darkness prevailed, his fearful eyes fixed at the old radio that broadcasted only static noise at that moment. But Noul knew that he had to keep listening, the radio would guide him. His only source of light was a dim lamp that kept flickering, and whenever it went out and Noul was left in blackness, he could almost see faces surrounding him. He didn't dare to look at them and just kept his gaze at the radio.

The table where the radio was placed started to vibrate slightly, but Noul wasn't sure why. But it was a sign to him, a sign that the radio started working again.

“Good evening, my darlings.” The static noise was replaced by the voice of a young man who spoke in a charming way; it captivated Noul immediately. “Sorry it took so long, but I am here now and I will help you.”

Noul was like bewitched, he was sitting on the edge of his seat, his full attention on the radio.

“Wretches. Worthless wretches. That's what you are. But don't let that dishearten you. Even maggots have their purpose. And perhaps, if you do as I say and follow me, I'll speak in your favor and your lives can change for the better.”

No more darkness, no more loneliness. It was tempting to Noul. Being abandoned by the whole world, his existence didn't matter to anyone. No one, absolutely no one would care if he just disappeared. Realizing this, it breaks a man.

“I can offer you a life worth living. Do you want to be more pretty, skilled, smarter or find love? Everything is possible, my darlings. But nothing is free, oh, no, no. I have a simple request. Fulfill my wish and I'll grant yours.”

Noul's heart was trembling. He didn't want to be lonely anymore, he wanted to be loved. And the mysterious voice in the radio, he would fulfill his dream. Whatever they would ask, Noul had the feeling that he could do absolutely anything. Anything.

“The task is simple. Kill somebody, take their soul and bring it to me. Then I will give you anything your rotten hearts desire. Sounds like a fair trade, doesn't it? Now, go my darlings, go and perform your first murder. I must say, it can be a lot of fun, so remember to smile! Maybe even laugh a little. It's for you to decide. Now, I won't hold you back any longer. Get me my souls and I'll tell you how to get to me during tomorrow's broadcast. Have a wonderful evening, everybody!”

The man's voice was gone, but the strength of his words remained. The radio was full of static again. It was fine, however, Noul knew what he had to do. There was a knife on the table, sharp and ready to cut flesh. Noul hadn't even realized it had been there. Maybe he had planned to use it on himself, he couldn't remember. But now, it would aid him in his macabre task, it was his ally. Noul grasped the knife and it felt right in his hand, like he had always supposed to be wielding it. Without wasting any time, he walked away from the dark room, all the hidden faces watching him as he headed towards the entrance of his miserable little place.

Tonight, the madmen would spill blood.



[b]WRITE WITH BLOOD[/b]

A night had arrived. The moon was glowing in the sky, but its light was pale and barely brought illumination to the damned world at all. There were a few stars scattered around the black sky. This is what heaven looked like now, but it had a tendency to change as the continent drifted through the void, sometimes getting in contact with other worlds. The Chronicler was looking at the sky from his tower, wondering which world's heaven they were seeing tonight. It was quite an interesting trait, that the sky would change like that every night, but during the day it was always the same. But it was just one of the many oddities this world held, The Chronicler knew it better than anyone, for he had been here since the beginning.

He felt a sudden gust of wind caressing his face and playing with his robes. It was disguised as a tender lover, but The Chronicler could feel that there was something vile in it. It wasn't anything unusual in a place like this, however, The Chronicler could tell that it was conveying a message. He let the wind whisper to him what it knew. It seemed like one of the poor souls who had unfortunately got trapped in this world had found a grand purpose. Now, everyone had a role to fill here, whether you liked it or not, but some people were more extraordinary than the others. The Chronicler himself was a good example of that.

“The Undertaker.” This was the name the wind was carrying to The Chronicler's ears. He listened some more and The Undertaker's story was revealed to him. He seemed to possess this noble idea that he wanted to spare the people from the great torments of this world, but his means to do so… They weren't exactly honorable. He would dig graves and then bury people alive in them, thus saving them from the suffering that dominated this world. In his twisted little mind, he would bring salvation to those he would bury. But The Chronicler wasn't the one to judge people, they all were lunatics here – even The Chronicler.

Once he had listened to the wind enough, The Chronicler went back inside his little residence. The place was filled with books, as one would expect, and there was barely anything else in his dwelling. It was his duty as The Chronicler to record everything that happens in this world and over the years, his tower had got filled with books that told the history of the cursed land. In a way, The Chronicler's tower was one of the most valuable places, and it was also one of the safest. Madness prevailed outside, but most madmen had a fraction of sense that would tell them to not disturb the peace of The Chronicler's tower. The consequences would be severe.

The Chronicler walked towards a desk where an open book was resting, its pages empty. He took his position and held his hands above the book. Suddenly crimson markings appeared on his hands and arms, looking like veins. From the tips of his fingers, those veins traveled to the blank pages and words started to form on them, talking about the awakening of The Undertaker. It was the day when he found his purpose, but what it would mean for the future, no one could answer that.

As the last crimson word was imprinted on the paper, The Chronicler's blood stopped flowing from his fingers and the veins faded away. He stepped away from his desk and looked at the sky again from a window. He was a man who had sought knowledge all his life, but never would he have anticipated where it would lead him. In his home world or here, life worked in strange ways.



[b]BEHIND THE SMILING FACES[/b]

Tick tock says the clock. Time will always move forward no matter how much you struggle against it. A fine evening had arrived, the world outside was devoured by darkness, just like it tended to do. It was time to feast and so the mother of the family had prepared a delicious dinner for the rest. She had set the table ready for the family and as she had been carrying the food to finalize the perfect setting, her children and husband arrived at the dining room. Everybody was wearing a smile on their faces as they took their places to sit around the table and the mother gladly served the food to the rest. Surrounded by dirty grey walls and being spied on by bugs and spiders, the family started to eat whatever poor creature the mother had found that day.

Everyone looked so happy, they were just laughing with each other and their smiles never faded away. But dark stories were hidden behind those smiles, buried so deep that no one could dig them out.

The little boy of the family never told the story from school. Together with a group of boys he had been bullying one other kid. They had lured him to nearby woods and once they were far enough, they had attacked him. The little boy had struck his victim with a rock multiple times, until he didn't move or breathe anymore. They left his corpse in the woods, going on with their lives like nothing hadn't even happened.

The little girl of the family was a horribly insecure person. She had been visiting her friend's house as usual, but had left with blood on her hands. Her friend had shown her pet canary more attention than to her and of course she had become green from jealousy. When her friend wasn't looking, she had taken scissors and cut off the poor bird's head. She hid the body in the flowerbed and never told the truth about what happened to her friend's canary.

The mother had been on a trip to the grocery store. She had got greatly infuriated with somebody's driving in the parking lot, so much that she wanted to take revenge. The person who had annoyed her seemed to be a young mother herself and she had made the mistake of leaving her baby in the car all by itself. The mother had then broken the glass and stole the baby inside and rushed away from the scene while the alarm was blaring. She took the baby a few blocks further and dumped the child in a dumpster. She left the baby there and returned home to her family as a loving mother.

The father was a man whose actions were often guided by anger. It had been just another day in the office when one of his workers had made some mild mistakes. Being the perfectionist he was, he had lashed out on the worker, being so harsh with his words that the worker had then after the lecture headed to the roof of the office building to get fresh air and clear his head. The father had followed him there as he noticed he wasn't working like he should have and got yelled at again. In the heat of the moment, the father pushed his worker out of the roof and the man splat on the street in the middle of the day, much to the horror of those who witnessed his gruesome demise. But the father got back to his work and started looking for a new worker to replace the one who just died by his hand.

Just a usual day in the family of smiling faces. They loved each other and enjoyed spending time as a family and no outsider could ever guess that there were dark things under the surface of a perfect family. They ate their dinner, the children helped the mother to do the dishes and then the whole family spent the evening watching television together. Such happy times. Such mad times. A family of monsters, full of darkness and insanity beneath the flawless surface. There would be more victims, for sure, but who could ever suspect such a stable and happy family?



[b]IT'S ALL FOR ENTERTAINMENT[/b]

A gathering of dead souls, lingering in the first level of hell. It was the day of entertainment, held in the great dome. The dead flowed inside the building and took their places around the stage where the show would happen. This stage, being in the very center of the dome, was the only thing lit inside, although the light was really pale, and the dead remained in the darkness. Their eyes were gleaming with insanity in the blackness and they blended in perfectly, making it look like that they were just a mass made of shadows. The dark figure was moving constantly and changed forms, laughing and singing while they waited for the show to begin.

A very loud noise shook the dome; it was like thunder had struck the building. Even a flash of light could be seen on the stage and following its shine, a petite figure had appeared in the center of everything. She was a very young-looking woman, perhaps in her twenties, and she could have been a beautiful one if she wasn't a resident of hell. While half of her face had retained its beauty, the other half was rotten and disgusting. And it wasn't just her face, the same could be said about her body as a whole. Her form was delicate and lovely, but she had patches of rotten flesh all around her body, clearly visible because of her revealing clothing. There were also spikes growing from various parts of her figure and there was no doubt that she was a monster, fitting for this place.

“Good evening, everybody!” she greeted her crowd, her voice echoed loudly around the dome and she easily caught everyone's attention. “I'm happy to see you all. Most of you know me already, but my name is Miarg and I'm your hostess of the night.”

The crowd cheered at her and Miarg basked in their favor. She walked around the stage leisurely and simply enjoyed the attention of the dead.

“However!” Miarg suddenly yelled over the applause of the crowd and they went silent immediately. “You're not here for me. So, let me introduce you to our guest of honor for the night!”

Miarg snapped her fingers and in that instant, a puff of purple smoke appeared on the stage, but it didn't linger there for long. Once it had subsided, another figure was now accompanying Miarg. This time a young male, but whose appearance hadn't been altered by hell, not yet. His hands were tied with barbed wire and he was glancing around very nervously.

“This fine young man here is Camor and he will be the one to entertain you!” Miarg exclaimed. “Now, what do we do with him? Let me present you with the options tonight!”

Once more Miarg snapped her fingers and three devices emerged on the stage. They were brazen bull, iron maiden and a stand with a noose.

“As you can see, we have some classic options this time!” Miarg announced happily. “And now, my dear friends, which one of these three will we use on Camor?”

The crowd was yelling loudly. It was clear that most of them demanded the bull. Camor was absolutely horrified by this, even though none of the options were good for him.

Miarg was smirking as she listened to the crowd's chant. “It seems like we're going with the brazen bull tonight! Excellent choice, everybody, excellent! Let's begin!”

She began to push the terrified young man towards the chosen torture device. Camor tried to resist, but Miarg was too strong for him and eventually she managed to push him inside the brazen bull and locked its door. The poor man had been begging the whole time, but of course, that only excited the audience. Miarg snapped her fingers again and a flame appeared under the brazen bull. Soon after the fire had been lit, screams of pain could be heard inside the bull.

The applause was almost deafening. The dead were cheering on as they relished on Camor's agony, it was the reason they had gathered here in the first place. There was no better pleasure than the extreme anguish of some poor soul. Camor's screams of pain turned into the bellowing of the bull and the torment of his soul became like a lifeforce for the metallic animal. The crowd witnessed how the bull came to life, eyes glowing in white and smoke coming out of its mouth. It started to buck and trash around the stage, circling Miarg, and spread the smell of burning flesh everywhere. For the dead, this was very exciting.

Eventually the bull's movements slowed down and stiffened. It came to a stop and reverted back into a mere torture device. Miarg stepped towards the brazen bull and opened its little door. She pulled Camor's broken body out for the dead to see. As expected, his whole body had charred horribly, bits of his skin had got stuck inside the bull. He was whimpering weakly, probably thinking why he wasn't dead yet. But this was hell. This is how things in hell were supposed to be.

“Now, who would like to take care of our guest here?” Miarg asked and she eyed the crowd with a smirk on her face.

The dead were shrieking in unison; they were a monster that wanted to eat the tortured flesh. They were jumping, reaching with their razor-sharp claws, trying to get noticed by Miarg. She let the dead get excited and mad, until she finally threw Camor into the crowd. Like a pack of hungry wolves, they immediately dug their teeth and claws and spikes into the burnt body and tore him apart. All the limbs were severed and the organs ripped out, flesh devoured. The crowd was so violently ravenous that nothing remained of Camor, even his soul was swallowed by someone.

Miarg had observed the total devastation of Camor's body while smiling. “Well, that's all for this evening, folks! I hope to see you again tomorrow! Now, good night, everybody!”

She did a slight bow on the stage before she disappeared into a puff of smoke. Miarg was gone and the show was over. The dead started to slowly march out of the dome, but they would be back tomorrow. They enjoyed witnessing the suffering of poor souls, but in reality, they were suffering as well. The anguish of someone else makes you stronger, that's how the rules of hell worked. And all of them, they were selfish bastards.



[b]PLAYING WITH SHADOWS[/b]

A little candle in the center of the room, its flame small and feeble. But it managed to give enough illumination for the little boy to see around – even though the room was empty. Just dirty grey walls surrounding the boy, no windows or doors, he was sitting in the center of emptiness, staring at the candle. The darkest corners where the light couldn't reach were occupied by something, the boy could hear them skittering around. The boy, Anvio, would occasionally look in the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was moving there. Because little Anvio was a very lonely child, abandoned by the world.

A black hand with claws emerged from the darkness, reaching out to the boy. Anvio was curious about it, observing how more and more bits of this creature became visible, detaching itself from the mass of darkness. It had a snake-like body and many spikes sticking out; in Anvio's eyes it was a dragon. He liked dragons. They were huge and powerful and mysterious. He felt like he was getting a friend. The dragon danced around him, bringing forth the sense of wonder within Anvio. The boy raised to his feet and ran circles around the candle, his little arms extended as if they were wings. A little bit of imagination, a little bit of desire, that was how the dragon had been made. Anvio didn't feel as lonely anymore, but still, he would like to have more friends.

And more of them came from the darkness. A few more shadow creatures, a fox, a tiger, a hawk and a spider took their forms and joined in the fun, dancing around the little boy. Anvio felt happiness, a feeling that wasn't too common for him. He giggled as he imagined that he could fly with his friends, completely unaware of what was happening around him. Shadowy hands with long claws were appearing from every corner of the dim room, moving slowly, just stretching out towards the feeble candle. They wanted to extinguish it, make it disappear. And since nobody was guarding it, the hands succeeded in this. They grabbed the flame and crushed it, smothering it with their darkness, taking away the only light. Anvio stopped. He couldn't see anything anymore, not even his friends.

The room trembled as if being shaken by an earthquake. The ceiling shattered like glass. There was just an empty void beyond. But something appeared from the blackness, a creature of hideous and grotesque kind. It was like a huge dog, but its flesh was rotten and it didn't have any fur. It had no eyes and there were disgusting blisters and growths of fungi all around its body. It had a couple of arms sticking out of its back, limbs that clearly didn't belong to a dog. A horrifying sight all in all, but little Anvio faced the creature with no fear, staring at it with a blank face. It was an old acquaintance of his, he had watched how this beast had grown and evolved throughout the years.

“I don't want to go yet”, Anvio said to the creature.

“Time's up”, the dog growled with a low voice.

With one of its arms, the monster reached out for the boy. It wrapped its thin fingers around Anvio, who didn't even attempt to struggle against it. The monster picked him up gently as if he was a fragile toy and raised him to air.

The dark being crushed him, breaking his bones and mashing his organs. Then it put Anvio in its mouth and devoured him.

There was no light in the closed haven. The darkness killed the child. It was a deadly infection that would take over Anvio's soul permanently. The roots of anguish were too deep, there was no way out of it.