Post by Liam MacGregor on Jan 6, 2018 15:55:22 GMT -5
It was 3 a.m. and Lana was dead asleep. Everyone was dead asleep except for the guards at the top of the building, on the roof, making sure their due diligence to Kennedy was paid as they watched over the complex. This place was no long the luxury hotel it was supposed to be, but a prison and a playground for the community Kennedy had created.
But it was something much more to him. It was a place where secret voices whispered about the past and roamed the halls as shadowy figures. They spoke to his mind and sometimes drove him to the depths of insanity. Lana was always there to pull him out, but tonight that could not happen. He couldn't let it happen. He needed to cleanse the shadows and nightmares. More and more kept coming. More and more they laughed in his head, shouted and screamed and played tricks on him. The living was muted by the sounds of the dead's voices and he knew it was because they had become overrun by their secrets and whispers. It was time to purge.
In the first floor drawing room he stood, all in black, just like them, sweat across his brow and eyes glazed with anger and vengence. "You're not gonna get me this time. This is over."
He looked around the room. They crawled across the ceiling towards the curtains. They hid under the furniture and stood in the corners. The room was almost a blur to him as he moved to the private stock of moonshine that Kennedy kept in a locked closet. He pried it open with a crowbar, splintering the wood with a swift crack before pulling out the mason jars.
He knew what he was doing and he was doing it quickly before any more shadows could come. "Yea, you can't do anything when there's light can you? Nope, this is it." He was going to make the light for them all. One-by-one he dumped the jars out, soaking the old furniture, dusty carpets and splashing it against the dry, cracked fabric of the curtains. There would be no escape for them. The cars out front were already packed with some supplies and a few of the night workers had the trunks open, waiting until more to fill them with ammo and guns. Kennedy wanted to make another run and haul from another farm. They were all starting to fall around him and the smell of blood practically filled the air at all times...which did not help his state of mind.
"Say goodbye you miserable bastards."
He pulled a butane lighter from his pocket, flipped the wheel and watched as the solitary flame lit up the entire room. There was no thought to it as he dropped it from his hand to the soaked couch, watching it roar to a dull flame. It was a beautiful sight watching the room go up in flame and the shadows screeching in horror. They screamed in his head "Stop! What are you doing? What have you done?!?!" Over and over again and it thrilled him to hear them suffer.
The flames started to spread quickly as the black smoke filled the room. It would start from the bottom up, filling each and every room of the Biltmore.
But it was something much more to him. It was a place where secret voices whispered about the past and roamed the halls as shadowy figures. They spoke to his mind and sometimes drove him to the depths of insanity. Lana was always there to pull him out, but tonight that could not happen. He couldn't let it happen. He needed to cleanse the shadows and nightmares. More and more kept coming. More and more they laughed in his head, shouted and screamed and played tricks on him. The living was muted by the sounds of the dead's voices and he knew it was because they had become overrun by their secrets and whispers. It was time to purge.
In the first floor drawing room he stood, all in black, just like them, sweat across his brow and eyes glazed with anger and vengence. "You're not gonna get me this time. This is over."
He looked around the room. They crawled across the ceiling towards the curtains. They hid under the furniture and stood in the corners. The room was almost a blur to him as he moved to the private stock of moonshine that Kennedy kept in a locked closet. He pried it open with a crowbar, splintering the wood with a swift crack before pulling out the mason jars.
He knew what he was doing and he was doing it quickly before any more shadows could come. "Yea, you can't do anything when there's light can you? Nope, this is it." He was going to make the light for them all. One-by-one he dumped the jars out, soaking the old furniture, dusty carpets and splashing it against the dry, cracked fabric of the curtains. There would be no escape for them. The cars out front were already packed with some supplies and a few of the night workers had the trunks open, waiting until more to fill them with ammo and guns. Kennedy wanted to make another run and haul from another farm. They were all starting to fall around him and the smell of blood practically filled the air at all times...which did not help his state of mind.
"Say goodbye you miserable bastards."
He pulled a butane lighter from his pocket, flipped the wheel and watched as the solitary flame lit up the entire room. There was no thought to it as he dropped it from his hand to the soaked couch, watching it roar to a dull flame. It was a beautiful sight watching the room go up in flame and the shadows screeching in horror. They screamed in his head "Stop! What are you doing? What have you done?!?!" Over and over again and it thrilled him to hear them suffer.
The flames started to spread quickly as the black smoke filled the room. It would start from the bottom up, filling each and every room of the Biltmore.