His home is made up of other's abandoned problems, left for dead skeletons, and forgotten relationships. He sleeps on rocks that have been beaten by the tide, as the sand from the wash of others builds walls high and strong under his bridge of protection and capture. The stream runs red with blood, as the bridge above marches with new hopes and dreams, as the warrior underneath battles demons left behind from the white sheep above. Drinking the blood from dead skeletons gave him the strength beyond anything anyone has seen. The strength to swing his sword violently through the guts of the ones above. The naked warrior promised with every drink from the red stream, that he would take vengeance on those weak minded souls who left their own skeletons to die and rot, turn sour and be forgotten......he would take his sword and bounty those very people who gave him the curse he carried inside of him......the curse of extreme emotion. Heads fell to the ground with each swing of his sword, rolling heads were then thrown to the side for bears and birds. His rusted sword had to cut at times rather than slice, for the past of the ones he was killing made his swing heavy and his sword dull from left in the rain emotions. Tiger blood pumped through this warrior's body so hard that he at times would scream at the headless bodies before ripping their hearts out and drinking the dripping blood that was left, trying to move like traffic in New York. He drank blood and became strong, he drank the blood from those who didn't know how to use the blood they had. He opened his mouth and began then to eat their bones. One by one he slaughtered every single person who walked over the bridge above his home, drinking blood to gain endurance, and eating their bones to build strength. His face was covered in blood splatter and spaghetti looking guts. His knee would meet the ground as his hand would enter their chest, ripping out everything that once laid like a puzzle.....complicated but perfect.....now complex and scattered. Hundreds dead, that murdered a hundred themselves.....he was finally feeling good about himself. He felt he was doing right.....was he? I have no idea....I'm just telling the story of the man who once took bounty on those who drew blood to a stream that he drank out of. Blood from skeletons he adopted and took in....literally. Skeletons who gave him strength and nightmares. I am telling you a story of the man who killed hundreds......and saved hundreds.
5,000 years ago, this warrior under the bridge of red, made love to a woman a few years later.......a woman that was immediately infected by this curse. She soon became the first female hunter all the tribes had ever seen. She killed more animals than all the male hunters combined. She somehow felt she had the strength of a million people.......what she didn't know.......is she had the strength of a million skeletons.
You the reader......let me introduce our long lost relatives.
The Curse 2016