General

The monster hadn't been born with an icy core, yet one that was capable of love. Yet over the years he had coddled the cold and stabbed the love from every tiny interaction with the world. To the monster evert vice was a virtue, his cold cold heart no more than a void. And so when the innocent came he saw them not, he saw only an opportunity to gain that so very temporary and most shallow of twisted highs.

General

We are all born with a little monster and a little angel within, we choose which to nurture or kill. You can see what I chose. Now is the time for attack.

General

The inner monster had attacked daily and found not only no resistance but new habits forming of feeding the soul-nectar, of self cannibalising all that could have saved him. And so after all this time the attack was the most rotten form of pleasure imaginable, yet all that was left for such scavenging claws.

General

The attack of the monsters was as monster attacks are, cold and frenzied, every beast for himself.