A Sinner's Sanctum

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The elderly man was wearing an old battered lab coat that looked as if it was just as old as its owner. White hair dipped in black soot was poking out of a bandage that was wrapped tightly around his head. Wrinkles surrounded his mouth that, at the moment was stretched in a very cat-like grin. His cheeks were hollow, while freckles were scattered around the rough skin. His eyes were enveloped by dark rings that seemed to spiral right down to his pupils. He was drenched in water from head to toe. His clothes clung to his unsurprisingly limp body.


Water was pouring down strongly on the old man. Yet his contagious grin remained. He was walking down an abandoned road with no car in sight. His boney legs looking as if they were about to snap at any given moment but his eyes determined and completely convinced that they wont.  Had any one been there to witness such an outlandish sight they would have probably concluded that this man looked slightly unhinged. This said man, walked by a very sketchy diner, and had begun humming a tune unknown regardless of the cold night that was bequeathed upon him.


Approaching a vacated building he started to look around making sure he wasn’t followed by anything, but the dark windy night. The old run-down building was pitch dark. As he turned on the switch, light was emitted through out the big empty space. With a smile of satisfaction and a clap he began pacing back and forth, muttering incoherent words under his breath.



For there, in the middle of the room was nothing short of a monster. It highly resembled its own creator. Both were sickly white with an almost blue-ish tinge, and neither of the two looked as if they showered regularly. Although, it could be argued that a monster’s occupation does not entail being well dressed, etiquette, or hygienic.


             It mattered not, the uglier that nameless creation was the better it was for the old man. This monster was not made to extricate the people of this world, and what better way to reveal this object of destruction of its true nature than to make its appearance less than appealing?


This godless creation was built to demolish every last piece of unfortunate humanity that crosses its path. The unimaginable horrors that would commence quite soon made the old man tremble with excitement. If asked why he held such hatred toward the world he lived in and why he would even think of such a grotesque thing to do, he would probably just laugh then say in a very hopeless manner “ I am mad after all, isn’t that a good enough reason?” He would go on to explain that because he was crazy, creating the monster was bound to happen. Those simply twisted words are spoken and you come to realize that it is, surprisingly, the sanest response he can ever give and you almost feel bad. He says it with such conviction that it doesn’t seem like his reason for being what we would describe as evil, but as truth. And it is frightening because a few moments later he laughs and it is humorless and a chill freezes you in your spot and you’ve come to realize that he is wrong. The monster is not the most destructive thing in that room, nor is it the most formidable.

Created: Aug 05, 2012

Tags: wicked, story, short story, mad scientist

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