The mysterious shadow figure spun around quickly and made a growling noise. Mortuus could finally get a good look at what this "thing" was. It looked like an ordinary man, but instead of any human skin, it just had wispy black smoke. This strange figure was positioned like he had an injured leg.
"I asked you a question! Who are you??" Mortuus restated, raising his revolver. The figure raised its head and opened its mouth as if it were going to speak. Instead of words, it let out an unearthly screech, shattering the tranquility of the surroundings and sending ripples of horror through the stillness. It began as a low, ominous rumble akin to the growl of a malevolent force stirring from its ancient slumber. Slowly, it climbed in intensity, reaching a piercing pitch that seemed to transcend the boundaries of mortal perception.
Mortuus covered his ears and closed his eyes in pain as its scream felt like it would shatter his temples. The figure bolted at him and slammed Mortuus against the ground, scratching at his bandages. Mortuus threw a punch, and his fist went right through the creature's jaw.
In his desperate attempt to fend off the looming figure, he swung his fist with all his might, aiming squarely for its face. Yet, to his bewilderment, his hand seemed to traverse empty air as though he were futilely pummeling through a mist. The contradiction was palpable; here he was, locked in a visceral struggle, each blow from the figure finding its mark with chilling precision while his own efforts dissolved into nothingness.
Mortuus was finally able to throw the figure off him. The entity descended, its head contorting with an eerie resemblance to an owl's, unnaturally twisted around. With unsettling agility, it proceeded to ascend the wall, its movements akin to that of a spider's crawl, each limb finding purchase with disturbing grace. "What the actual fuck??" Mortuus shouted as the creature was spinning its limbs like a robotic horror.
Mortuus's fingers clenched around the cold ivory of his revolver. With a sharp crack, a golden bullet erupted from the firearm's muzzle, hurtling forth with deadly intent. Its trajectory was swift, piercing the air before embedding itself firmly into the unyielding surface of the wall. Through the haze of terror, Mortuus watched in grim satisfaction as the projectile traversed the shadowy visage of his assailant, passing through its ethereal form with an eerie, almost spectral ease before finding its final resting place.
With intensity, it lunged its spectral form colliding with Mortuus with bone-jarring force, driving him forcefully into the unforgiving surface of the wall. Claws, like the talons of some unholy creature, sank into his flesh, wrenching him violently back and forth with an almost sadistic enthusiasm. Again and again, the figure relentlessly bashed the back of Mortuus's skull against the rigid brick, each impact sending a sickening crunch echoing through the air.
The attack continued unabated, the onslaught of blows ceaseless until finally, with a grotesque finale, Mortuus's skull yielded to the relentless assault, shattering upon impact with the masonry. Blood and viscera sprayed in a grotesque tableau of violence as his head was rent asunder, a grotesque culmination of the figure's savage onslaught.
It disappeared in a veil of smoke, just like how Mortuus had seen Death do hundreds of times before. Mortuus lay there with the back of his skull shattered on the floor like scattered puzzle pieces, blood dripping down the sharp edges of the bone.
He sat up slowly and lifted his head from the hole in the brick. Bits of dust from the brick and little chunks of the wall fell on him. It hurt like hell as he tried to understand what had happened. Mortuus lifted his hand to the back of his head.
Instead of the expected resistance of skin encased in cloth, Mortuus's probing fingers sank into a repulsively mass, its texture akin to a sodden sponge, slick with moisture and pocked with hideous wrinkles. A surge of revulsion gripped him as the realization dawned on him, churning his stomach with a nauseating intensity.
The stench of decay permeated the air, mingling with the acrid tang of blood as Mortuus recoiled in disgust at the macabre truth of his discovery. With trembling hands, he turned to confront the grim truth laid bare before him, his gaze falling upon the shattered remnants of his own skull strewn haphazardly across the ground, a grotesque mosaic of bone and brain matter. The urge to retch clawed at his throat, a visceral reaction to the nightmarish sight that lay before him.
"Dammit, these are brand new bandages." He muttered in annoyance as he picked up the pieces. Just like every other body part, Mortuus just crudely shoved the shards into the hole, his body doing the rest as he repaired, and unfortunately, the mysterious assailant was gone.
He walked over and looked into his shattered mirror as he removed the bandages altogether. "How come my body can't repair this horror? I'll never be a beauty queen with this face!" He joked in annoyance as Death padded into the room.
"Your body does not recognize the scars of your past... Much like how your mind does not acknowledge your history." Death said as if that were something obvious and not a profound thought that Mortuus wouldn't be able to come to on his own.
Mortuus sighed and grabbed a bundle of fresh bandages. He took them and began rewrapping his face. He wasn't too concerned with wrapping his hands since there were only a few tears in those bandages.
After he finished, Mortuus stood in front of the mirror for a moment, questioning what was happening to him. Ever since he woke up that fateful day, his life has been nothing but absolutely insane.
Mortuus sighed and left the room. On his way out, he walked past a coyote. As always, random animals in the bunker completely ignored him. He continued his way into town and looked around for some sort of clues.
He tried asking around, but no one would talk with him about the "Shadow Man," and many people didn't believe it existed. After an hour of researching and asking, Mortuus only learned two new things about this dark figure of the night.
Mortuus learned that the "Shadow Man" first appeared in the town around April 1974, meaning it's been around for at least twenty-four years now. He also learned that it always disappeared whenever someone tried getting close.
"Perhaps the library will know something... Some newspapers should do the trick." Mortuus thought to himself as he walked to the local library. He grabbed the handle and opened the door. He was somewhat surprised when he saw Mrs. Knight seated at the front desk with her cheery smile.
She smiled and looked up from the computer. "Mortuus! How nice of you to drop by. What brings you to the library, hun?" Mrs. Knight spoke in a somewhat southern-style manner and often called people "Hun" or "Sweetie."
Mortuus smiled back and leaned on the front desk. "I was hoping you could help me with something, Mrs. Knight." he paused for a minute, "Do you know if your library has any newspapers? Preferably from around 1974."
Mrs. Knight nodded and motioned for Mortuus to follow. She led him to a small room in the back and showed him a bunch of newspaper stacks. "There should be 1974 in these stacks somewhere. You're welcome to look." She smiled and turned, "Let me know if you need anything."
Mortuus thanked her and began his search. It took twenty minutes just to find a newspaper from the 1970s, but once he did, he started looking through them. There were reports on the weather and other mundane things.
Mortuus even found an old newspaper clipping on Elvis Presley's death and the ratings on Jaws. Finally, He got to 1974. "Hmm... There doesn't seem to be anything significant..." He said to himself while looking through news clippings. It wasn't until he came across a death report that things seemed less prosaic.
"February 8th, 1974... twenty-three-year-old father and adoptive daughter killed in house fire, foul play suspected." Mortuus read the heading aloud. It was a report on the death of a prominent member of the community who had died with his daughter in a house fire.
"On Thursday, the adoptive father of Isadora Andrews was killed along with her while trying to escape a fire in their home... At the moment, there's no information as to what may have caused this fire..." He read aloud. Mortuus was in complete shock.
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