25. The Being in the Shack.

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The Being in the Shack.

The shack was small situated at the very eastern edge of the little town known as Bethesda. Barely standing on a cliff, it looked out at the vast ocean and at the rocks that were splitting waves apart covering their darkened surfaces with the white froth. It was such a contrast to the sand beaches beyond it and maybe, the only reason that the hooded figure with the black cloak chose it.

It was quite strategic you see. Quite isolated but still within a good enough distance to view the town in its full glory. Why the light house was not built here, the figure could not tell, though it was really none of its concern. It had other purposes in mind that did not include the town welfare at large.

The figure was quite tall and in its right hand, it grasped a long wooden staff that was curled up at one end in the manner of a shepherd's rod. However the rod was much more dainty and the colour of obsidian, the centre of the curve gleaming with a jewel that was equally dark. The obsidian jewel seemed to be suspended in thin as there was no visible holding mechanism that could clearly explain the phenomenon of a jewel hanging attached in the curve of the black shepherd's rod.

Long white fingers, pale even the evening light could be seen protruding from the ends of its long dark the robes. Its nails equally long and tapered before curling up in a manner that resembled a birds talons. The robes continued up its arms and up its neck, terminating in a cowl that hid the figures head albeit not so well.

It was not so long that it would hide the face. The eyes within it being grey and so were the stray strands that could be seen from beneath the cowl. The room itself was bare. That is apart from the little table that was barely standing on its three legs. The floors earthen with walls made up of rotten splintered wood and even the roof seemed to be in a certain state of disrepair having lost one to many shingles from its tiled roof.

It was a wreckage to say the least and as another scream pierced through the night sky, the hooded figure's head lifted up slightly revealing the lower half of its face and a set of curled up lips that revealed a row of astonishingly white front teeth.

A strong ocean breeze blew through the open windows and the rotting pieces wood rattled against each other and the rusted iron nails holding them together. Every once in a while, the part of the roof with the loose iron roofing would make a loud clanking noise even as it blew apart in the wind, but the figure remained unfazed, standing regally even as it watched as chaos continued to descend on the town from above.

The wind continued blow stronger and with it several waves rode up across the vast ocean, breaking against the cliff and the side of the little fisherman's shack. A blast of air moved forward and caught the hem of the figure's regal black robes that were as black as ink, fluttering them and pushing them apart to reveal a pale leg with a shiny gold anklet.

More screams continued to filter into the night sky and as their magnitude and frequency continued to increase, the figure's red lips curled up into a smirk as it finally spoke. "Who knew?" a feminine voice laughed from within the hood. "Not so high and mighty after all..." It said. With that, the pale hand grasping the staff lifted it and flicked it round like a long wand. As the curve came to a full circle, dark smoke began to seep out from earthen floor before encompassed its entire form, engulfing the being as it disappeared into the dark night with just a string of thick black smoke being left behind.

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