This is my older brother's pasta. You can find it on deviantart! His profile is Idontplaynicekid

The PastaEdit

The horse drawn carriages trotted by, the clacking of their hooves seemed as only breeze amongst the trees to me now, actually, as common as seeing clouds; just simply there, off to nowhere of my care, and actually. I wouldn't care if that place burnt down as soon as they got there. Call me bitter, but it's my honesty. Other people never concerned me.

So here I am, pulling out my beautiful golden pocket watch, a nice polishing fixed her up well, and she ticked as nicely as ever; half past two, I am late, again. Today was the hanging, I always loved to hear the pitiful begging for their lives, before the noose tightened.

The ivory fingers of death closing around their throat to assist in taking their lives; they'd amused me to no end, and the toys they sold for such events were hysterical. Walking into the town square I looked up at those gallows, so lonely just to kill their next guest; so sad to see the only residents never come out alive. Sounds a bit like a horror novel.

"Alaister, old man, is that you? Looking mighty rough around the edges, and dark around the eyes, sleeping well?"

I turned to spot that bold mustached man; Silen, an old friend of mine who had been more like a mother, always asking if I was staying healthy. His occasional top hat accompanied him. He never had a wife; a hat suited him just fine in her place. Truth is I haven't been sleeping well. I had dreams of murders to which I woke up drenched in sweat; my body would ache in such a way as if I had strived to kill these people.

How can I kill someone that I've never met, or seen? When I did have these dreams someone died, as I saw it; some sort of out of body experience where I saw these poor individuals suffer such a tragic death at the hand of an assailant. Yet, I only stared at Silen, offering my smile, to which I nodded assuring him I was fine, yet he eyed me suspiciously; it was my turn to speak.

"So today, Silvan Clyde; he chopped his wife up, and baked her in his son's birthday pie. Poor little bastard, found his mum's finger in his slice, now Silvan hangs today, I pray I don't keel over laughing at any excuse he has to offer."

Silen was quite used to speaking like this. My dad was a killer as well. He killed my other five siblings then lopped of mum's head only to feed the body to the pigs. I loved the day he hung, I hated the way he died, wished they would have chopped him up at the legs.

"Alaister, please don't start; I hate hearing you rant and rave like a madman; but my heart goes out to the young man."

Silen only looked down, he gave a small sigh only to shake his head; he was too melancholy at these hangings, he should rejoice at the sweetness of the gallows, a feast of served justice.

"Aye, I am sorry my good friend, it's the emotion built up within me. I will refrain from speaking in such a manor around you, apologies."

I replied, though in truth, I never meant it. I honestly was not sorry for expressing my opinion, and hell, I'd never be sorry for such a thing. It was as if trying to be forgiven for being oneself; made absolutely no sense. Now he and I fell quite silent, like we'd been hushed like noisy children in a school house. the ceremony was starting, I found more refuge in the silence, than in the joyous racket among men and women. Silvan was unloaded from the wagon, almost immediately as it pulled up; the officers even threw him a few beatings, a few names as well.

"Move it, move it ya crazy bastard. A lil' bruises for the trip will give ya color!" The officers shouted at him, beating him with their billy clubs; blows rained upon him as he walked, some by standers even took the liberty to throw rocks; cutting him open quite a bit. Crimson flowed from his gashes, the jagged stones gave him no mercy; between the blows from the police, or the jagged stones; hell was brought to him early, nipping at his heels only seconds ago.

The crowd now busted into insults. Silvan could only see a blur of red now, no hands to wipe the blood trickling into his eyes away; the stinging sensation was all that had kept him conscious at this point in time. Climbing the stairs to the gallows, I watched eager with anticipation, I could taste the sweetness his trickling blood, I could hear his heart beating; though only in my head, I awaited his final moments to draw near.

Now the execution was to take place. Like a play, every key actor had his role to fulfill, while the audience watched; the peanut gallery even took the liberty of cracking a few jokes about the public event they were witnessing.

They soon began reading off his crimes, and now the penalty; the only word that caught my ear was "DEATH!" they were taking far too long already, like waiting for Christmas morning to take place, running down stairs to see what that jolly fat bastard brought you. So now they offered his last words, the usual speech of innocence; yet this one caught my ear.

"A dead man, his eyes closed, and body rather limp, an automaton from hell, meant to take my life away, through stealing all I had. That dead man did it, not I!" Silvan's tears mixed with the blood as they ran down his face, like the fool was crying wine. Though a dead man killing someone?

That was mad ramblings; even the nutters at the asylum would find that humorous, if they weren't to busy laughing at some imaginary sight already. Now they placed the bag over his head, that opaque black bag, now the noose, a crown for the dead, lord of the gallows for mere moments; then the trap door dropped, the rope strained, catching him in mid-air, but around the neck.

He was limp, already dead, no signs of agony. I only gave a sigh of annoyance, and left, not even caring to hear him announced dead. Silen took this into notice disregarding it; again, this was something he was quite used too.

I walked amongst the town, it had already started to get dark, and my attention was focused on the ground, I hung my head to avoid eye contact, I hated idle chatter, especially with strangers, they have no business even acknowledging me. The clicking of my heels echoed along the stone pavement of the town. I had reached my house, lonesome without my presence.

I never cared for a spouse, never wanted kids; I preferred my solitude, and my nights the same shade as my coffee; black. I opened the door as it creaked loudly, I needed new hinges, and a new mood; the disappointment of the hanging had dampened me, well, a better word would be pissed me off, but, that's just restating the obvious.

After tampered with my study's papers, I had lit the lantern, walking down the narrow hallway as the small willo-wisp like flame lead me, the lantern illuminated all doors, locked, just like I had left them; reaching the end of the hall, I grasped the knob of the doors, twisting it, silently opening the door to my bedroom. With evening attire suited to my thin body, I dozed off in the confines of my feather mattress.

A kitchen? Was I awake, was I dreaming? I am moving, but against my will. Then something caught my eye, a man crouched in the corner, fear struck him, smitten by horror, he trembled. I took notice that his index, and middle finger on his right hand were gone, clasping his hands over it, as the blood gushed out. Who was this man; than it struck me, Mr. Ferrel; the town cook, but who had attacked him?

It was those dreams, the venomous torture I have began enduring ever since the night Silvan had killed his wife, In saw him do it, my experiences saw the killer at work, but I see too much, it haunts me when I wake up; but when would I wake up? I could never get up in time to be of any use; then the hand of the killer reached out to the cook, his eyes widened, as it took hold of him his mouth gaped, yet when I a scream was to come out, it had ended, I was awake, and it was morning.

I had thrown my sheets from my bed, and was off, I had to make it to Ferrel's kitchen, he had to be alright; maybe it was only a nightmare, but as I arrived at the scene, the sight of the officers told me otherwise. What a sight to be hold, those who arrived at this scene were outside purging themselves of their breakfast, the odor of vomit mixed with something even more abominable assaulted me, sucking the strength from me. Then I turned to see one of the men who wasn't joining the other puking officers. I knew him as well; he was my neighbor during the innocent years of my life.

"Smell that? It's burning flesh...Ol' Ferrel was stuffed into his own oven, and cooked, his fingers chopped up like carrots; while his eyes, and heart rest in a crock pot. What sick bastard could even think up such a thing, and to actually do it; this is insane. Nobody could have done this, no one from here." The officer explained, only I was half listening, already having turned away to hold my nose, attempting to block out this horrid owner; just the smell had destroyed me, the sight; that would finish the job.

I had to leave, I had to escape from this area, I had to leave before I fainted, or died from such fumes. I had turned to bid the man farewell, but he must have taken the hint, and left while I was in recoil. Now I noticed I was still in my bedroom cloths, it'd be best to leave here; maybe clothe myself properly.

Later that evening, I had found myself on the streets, and had decided to enter a diner, I needed time to clear my head, I needed somewhere to think, or at least try to form a thought; if my mind would quit torturing them, and if they would quit inflicting agony to their creator.

A nice hot meal was brought to me, though I order nothing, a beautiful steak, with all the trimmings, and a tall glass of beer; it was odd, I never order a thing, then a man sat in the chair directly in front of me, and leaned of the table; then I noticed the top hat, Silen's hat. I looked up only to be greeted by his smiling face, his food was delivered shortly, taking out his small pouch, he spilled coins onto the table, which the waitress had quickly grabbed.

"Oi, I finally found you, seems your morning was rather rough now gov, agreed? I bought us dinner as you can see, hopefully we could talk; you seem troubled."

He always kept a warm smile, never failing to give me a bit of relief, only I had said nothing in return. what do I tell him?

He would write me off as a nutter in that asylum up town, and I'd be sent there; knowing him, he'd refer me, I would never endure the tortures those sick son of bitches performed on the patients. But, what if he could help? What if I told him all I had experienced, if he helped I wouldn't become a lunatic, my sanity could replenish.

"Silen, my friend, my dreams are not well, their well being usually reflects upon me; so as you can see, I am unwell, and miserable is the best word. I see these men and women who have been slain, when it happens, nothing but demise fills my dreams, tragedy has become my wife, I share my bed with death itself!"

My words had become faster paced, rattled with panic. If it wasn't for the clanking of forks, knives, and glasses, everyone else would have heard me, I thank God for those sounds.

Now Silen stared, his face calm, his mouth didn't even twitch; it seemed he understood, he was a doctor at the asylum after all, maybe he'd open his mouth and utter those words I dreaded "Insane", yet I didn't hear it, lifting his fork to his mouth, he bite down on it, taking the tender piece of steak into his mouth, chewing with the same stern face, than swallowing; for what seemed like an eternity of waiting, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Your mind roams in it's sleep, the stress from your father's crimes have put enough strain on your mind to help you develop some sort of ESP reaction the event that caused you so much trauma; this could help us reduce crime rates you know? And no, you're not a mad man, just rather unique" Silen spoke these words with a tone of absolutism, urging these thoughts to take over what I had; which those words soon did, they gave me a sense of security in my own mind.

After him and I had finalized his diagnosis of my mental state, I had eaten my dinner, and we had parted ways around midnight; now finding the ability to keep a peaceful mind, I had headed home and taken to my bed, where now I could slumber, next was training myself to wake up, to confront the murder who had killed Mr. Ferrel, maybe even get his identity.

The strong aroma of perfume drifted into my nose, it was sweet, like the breeze of Spring, a comforting, embracing scent; it felt as if an angel had wrapped its arms around me; through blurry vision I struggled to make out where I was, a beautiful vermillion wall greeted my sight, and the warmth of the fireplace tingled my body, though I noticed a frail woman, a beauty unmatched by any other, she was tied down to a chair.

Her face was breath-taking, but he arms were cut in multiple places, it was one of my dreams. The hand of the same killer was now raised, striking at her face, her blonde hair shoot to the same direction as her head; he was torturing her.

The beatings now continued more ferociously, littering the face of an angel with bruises. Darkness now enveloped me, only to return to the same scene, she was free now, and was dashing for the fireplace, only for her attacker to trail closely behind her; I seen her face before, I had never known her name, but that face, one could never forget.

I wanted to shout for her to run, this man would over power her eventually, but then I saw a long pointed rod in her hand, a fire poker, to which she thrusted at the man, my vision blurred once more, but no pain was felt. She must have missed; I'd have felt any pain she'd applied, a seemed to share sense, as well as eyesight with this person; behind her was a mirror, I could not see the man's face though, her body was in the way, she needed to move, I could put a stop to his killing spree right now.

She stabbed once more, only for it to be caught by those death bringing hands, now he seized her throat; blackness greeted me afterwards. Now the vision came back, but it was headed for my house, upon reaching the door, the darkness fell over, like a curtain to this play.

I awoke, trembling out of shock, what I had seen in the last few seconds had dazed me, he was at my house, but it was morning, he was in it no doubt, probably laying in wait, I needed to leave. upon trying to rise, a burning pain over took me, I collapsed back down, a large wound in my gut bled out even more, he had attacked me while I slept, possible marking me as dead; it throbbed greatly, nausea placed it's weakening hand on my wound. Why not kill me, had he done all of this to his victim, it was assured though, I was next.

I moved quickly, I had to get to the bathroom, patch up my wound, going outside would be too dangerous, he'd see me for sure; he was in the town. If he saw me he'd know I was still alive, he'd no to come back, maybe if I remained quiet, and inside today, this murder would leave me, being no threat to him, but it would show I was an easier victim; the feeling of hopelessness washed over me, the waves on the shore of beach, so overwhelmed by the ocean; I understood how it felt like to be consumed over, and over by tides now.

I entered my bathroom, raising a trembling hand I found the medicine, it would numb me for sure, so I had quickly taken three of the pills; gauze would supply a safe haven for this wound now, until I catch him tonight, it would hold me off until then....but only then.

I had prepared already, applying my bandages to the searing wound, the numbing tingle had began to overtake the pain, now replaced with nothing; three pills is what it would take for me to last today. Readying my knife, I placed it beneath my pillow, even going as far as to worsen those god awful hinges, the squeaking would help awake me, maybe give me the consciousness to release myself of sleep's shackles. It was in place, tonight, I'd finish the visions, I'd finish what his victims could not.

Taking to my bed once more, everything was set in place; a motion was just the push I needed to apply the edge to this plan, and to drive an edge through him. I'd hate to see what had become of the young woman though, my curiosity had gotten a hold of me, earlier today I pressed my ear to window, only to hear that she was found with the fire poker lodged into her head, and her arms had been shattered in every sense.

They were more jelly-like now. Another sight that I'm glad to have avoided. Now that night had fallen, shrouding the gray sky, I had found that my life was more of a treasure; I had to keep it for myself, not have it taken by a man I've never seen. Now I had lowered myself into bed, a place of redemption, or a coffin to lay me down in, white sheets stained with blood, the infinite rose petals that will fall upon my sheets, staining them red, and draining my color, a flower of the brightest red, the elixir of life that grows such a rose; blood.

The sound of water hitting the stone pavement awoke me, rain poured down over my town, the feeling of wetness had shot me into the reality of the vision.

The coldness of the skin I shared with this person nipped at me, he was near my house, I can see it from the corner of his eyes, but what is he doing? Now I felt squirming, a hand ripped at his shirt, through the driving rain droplets. I saw a familiar face, Silen, he was being strangled, his eyes bulging, his face paling.

His top hat lying in a nearby puddle, this man was killing him, my closest friend, murder in front of my very own eyes; what pain, my lungs refused to breath, I had to wake up, I had to save the man who cleared my sanity, the vision began to darken, I fought for it to stay wide open.

Now I had an idea, if I could somehow wait for an opening, maybe a sharp sense of something; pain. Pain could jolt me back into the world, I could end this assailant here any now, Silen was gasping now, his eyes flittered as he tried to speak something, raising a hand he clawed at his face, I felt a bit of it, this was my chance, shoving through all the will I had, something jolted.

A shock of coldness fully enveloped me; it was rain, and Silen's eyes were closed. Gazing at the puddle above his limp head I saw it, I was on top of him, he had clawed me...I had killed him, I was the killer; no one but me had done this, my reflection stared back at me.

It mocked me, I fought myself; only to lose...I'm mad, every ounce of me....mad. Silen was right, my mind did drift off, it repeated the action my father had, the biggest tragedy morphed me into what I enjoyed watching I was; Alasiter, the sleeping murder....Silvan WAS innocent. I was the dead man who killed his wife, I killed in my sleep. Oh heavenly father, forgive me I have sinned.