Train tracks.

Deep underground, among the dwellers of the dark and disgusting worms lived someone so abhorrent and morbidity immoral in his blasphemous ways that it was difficult to call him a human, not even a being.

He sat there among the mingled corpses and skeletons listening to the sounds of the passing trains above the ground. He prayed on the follies of those depressed and lonely people who came to the tracks to end their miserable existence.

He smelled them each time one approached, and they had a specific scent. It was a lingering scent between wanting to die and hanging on to life.

He would crawl out of his tunnels and observe them with his large black eyes before putting to the test if they really wanted to die.

That such a madman existed in this world wasn’t as shocking and sad as how many men and women came to these wretched train tracks to extinguish their light. Instead, he made sure that it was him to annihilated them and blow their candle out.

Again the train went over the tracks, such a pleasant sound to his ears. He caught a scent and crawled up, but what did he see that time that confused his vision.

A young woman running in fear. She had the same scent, when you think you’re about to die, but this was different, he observed three men emerge from the woods, chasing her, scent of murder following them in the nighttime air.

Why this beast did what he did that day he himself did not know, but he took those men as his victims, broke them, dragged them down and ate some of their parts. The young woman got away, she saw him, and in horror continued to run.

The next day he caught the scent of this woman again. She stood there with red flowers and moment he crawled out she placed them on the ground in front of his hole and ran. Why!? He picked up the flowers. It wasn’t the scent that he enjoyed, but he dragged them down anyway. The first gift in his entire horrible existence. It created a single spark among thousand of destroyed receptors in his abnormal brain.

The freakish being continued his awful deeds, but somehow he remembered her.

Years have passed and a familiar scent came, but now with his favorite scent of wishful death.

She stood there in the night awaiting the merciful train to come and end her life. He crawled out of the hole and sat inside a bush, he wanted to collect her, but instead he let her die in her own way.

The monster sat there in his deep confusion, not understanding what has stopped him from his sickly deed that time. He crawled back down into his hole, he sat there madly petrified with thoughts.

The legend has it that he still is there, under the tracks, unmoving sitting like a rock, his darkness keeping his heart beating, but body frozen and begone.