The Thief (VI)

The thief began to pick the locks with new found furry. The foot steps kept coming, now slow and precise, and the thief pulled out his lock picks the vault open.

A voice croaked out behind him: “Hello…”

The thief turned and saw the man who had murdered the guard. Yet man didn’t quite describe him. It was more like it. Yes it had a face, hands, arms, legs, yet there was something so wrong about… it. It was more of a demon. Shadows bent towards it, and light shunned it. It was surrounded by a cloak black as night. It had no weapons and the thief realized he didn’t want to know what happened to that poor mans fingers. All it had was hands, now stained with blood. Its face seemed distorted and shadow surrounded it.

“What are you?” Asked the thief; shaken, disturbed, and disgusted.

“I am your grave thief, I am your nightmares. I am all that you fear. Come now thief, I have much to show you.” It said.

The thief turned around and ran into the vault. The murder, the nighmare, followed.

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