A brief entry to something I am writing, short stories of the tales we hardly hear about, plague us, cause us uncertainty, what it means to be human:
Wretched souls bearing waste to paradise. Caught in perilous ventures that are filled with their emotions. What ails these frail beings filled with blood and weak bones? Caught with the strength of hope, faith, love. But what if such a man was removed these notions, removed the very essence of what they cling to a soul?
Humanity has long thought themselves to be Gods but what they have forgotten is that in the darkest of corners their nature is much more. To reveal such a man from which I speak he must first be born and perform that which is contrary to his nature and yet embrace it.
To make such a man is only a lie for it is not a man that is to be sought but what some would perceive a monster, close to the devil himself. Such a man, if he shall be called that, would fall like his brother, cast to live his truest nature. He shall be the Shadow of what is to come, the end of all, the shadow upon the Earth.