The Circus Of Song Intro
The demons rounded the corner again, their large, bright red eyes squinting as they rushed toward him. Darulli clenched his teeth and kept going. Stone pillars as tall as a skyscraper surrounded him. His mind ached as they penetrated it with their power. Magic poured into his mind and made the insanity flare again.
It was obvious that he was going insane. Every day he was reminded of the demons and how they wanted to drag him down into the pits of hell. So very frightening were their howls that he would hide in the cellar from them... all alone in the damp, cramped room with only a candle for company. Where had they come from? Darulli always wanted to know, but it was quite impossible to find out how they had emerged from their world. Somehow he knew that they did not belong to this earth. There were no creatures like these demons. He had never seen such a misshapen, beastly, dark thing as this. What with their gaping, cavernous jaws, large, bright eyes, greenish-grey, rotting, thin skin and gangly limbs... who would not be afraid?
Stopping for a breath, Darulli turned and saw them. They had stopped and turned to look at a wide, black portal with wisps of red smoke floating in and around it. One by one they staggered into the portal and finally it disappeared with a sound close to a gasp. Darulli sat down on the cold, white stone and waited. He waited for them to return and continue the chase. However, a good amount of time had gone by and they did not come back. Sighing with relief, he got up and slowly limped down a narrow hallway to a door. The door creaked loudly as he opened it and stumbled into the room. Turning on the light, he looked around and saw that everything was in order. His small, dark red desk sat beside the wooden walls, the familiar paintings of mountains and foreign castles adorned the walls and his many bookcases loitered in random places, their shelves crammed full of books about various things. Darulli quietly walked to his desk and looked at the book that rested on top of it. He opened it and instantly shut it again. Knowing that books would not be able to help him with his quest, he waited. Waiting for his daughter, he closed his eyes and ran a hand quickly through his short, curly, reddish-brown hair.
Darulli was a pale-skinned man with perfect, pencil-thin eyebrows, a long, thin nose, and small lips. His insanity had done nightmares for him seeing as he now had dark circles under his eyes and his lips were always quivering strangely. His daughter, Hilja, looked similar, but she had the beauty and grace of her mother who had died years ago after an awful disease had taken hold of her. He wondered what Hilja would think when she found his body. His skull marred by the gun that was hidden inside his desk, crowded by papers and novels. Knowing that she would be devastated, he frowned and allowed a tear to slide down his cheek dramatically. It had to be done though. There was no other way for him to escape the clutches of the demons that frantically sought his soul. Turning his gaze to the desk, he fumbled with the drawer until it was open and he gazed inside. There it was. The small gun he had bought in town shone in the fading light of the sun. Closing his eyes again, he brought the gun to the side of his head. Could he do it? Probably not, but he would at least try. The trigger groaned as he pulled it backwards. Bang went the gunshot; it echoed into the fading night. So, it began.
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