𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗮
(𝒏.) 𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒈𝒊𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏
✧
forgetten memories and a bitter heart. that's what you are.
sensations lingered at the tip of your fingers. it's familiar. yet, you cannot reme...
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❛𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬❜
PITIFUL TEARS STREAMED DOWN the man's face as he begged, his forehead stuck to the ground while he kneeled to the creature that deserves no respect, "I-I did as I was told, I punched their tickets and p-put them to sleep," He stuttered through his tear-soaked face.
"Please put me to sleep q-quickly," He hiccuped, "Please let me meet my dead wife and daughter, please, please..."
With a croaky and gravelly voice, as though they were shouting their entire lives and destroyed their throat, the creature spoke, "Sure thing, you did an outstanding job."
The creature—no, the demon was a mere hand, cutting off just over the wrist. It has an eye with an iris that of a goat and a mouth that always smiled sinisterly. There were writings on the hand that read dream, and swelling veins that wrapped around its stump of a hand.
"Now, sleep. And have a pleasant dream where you meet your family."
With those words, the conductor fell to the ground, breathless and unmoving.
"Um... What about us..." a young girl's voice spoke up. Behind the demon were five more people, each had severe eye bags, each suffering from illnesses.
"Just wait here and you'll get sleepier soon. The sharp-witted demon slayers might wake up because they'll sense the demons and their thirst for blood. Be careful to not touch their bodies when you get close and fasten the cord," The demon emphasized at the end.
"I can't move from the locomotive for a while. Just do your best until everything's prepared, so you can have a wonderful dream." Just as the demon said that, its wicked smile widened, showing more teeth that are aligned perfectly.
Their faces looked complicated, but they agreed to the deal "Okay..."
✦
Upon the train's primary engine, a man stood there with a bright smile on his face. To the eyes of a human, that man seemed to be overly happy about something. But with letters implanted in its left eye and marking on its face, along with the nerves etched across the back of his head, he was not purely happy.
He was ecstatic and for the wrong, wicked reasons.
His hair, which fades into a red-orange color near the ends, blew past the frigid air as his hands stretched out trying to reach for something.
"It doesn't matter how strong the demon slayers are. The driving force of human beings is the heart and soul," A deep rumble in his throat started while he chuckled, "All human hearts are the same. They're brittle and weak. As if they were made of glass."
