Crimson drips slowly along the soft plain of his bare chest, trickling slowly down onto the pale wood floor, where it lands with an echoed splash in the other wise silent room. In my peripherals, all I can see is red. It stains everything, my mind and vision included. Nothing is left untouched by the substance. Red everywhere, a metallic scent pungent in the air I breathe as short pants leave my lungs, my heart pounding in panic.

Even as he stands before me,surrounded by the grotesque scenery that is his own doing, I can't help but to notice how beautiful he is. His skin is like porcelain,pale and flawless. Everything about him is sharp; from his bone structure, to his steely gray eyes, to the arch of his brow. He's beautiful in a very haunting manor. He's beautiful in an ethereal sense, because he's not real. He simply cannot be real; people don't look like this, they can't do what he's done. His hand extends towards me, a wicked smile stretches across those devilish lips, a single drop of blood trailing from the corner down his chin. His long, tapered fingers flick blood towards me as he beckons me forward, and I don't even flinch as the droplets hit my cheek. I just stare in horror at the way the crimson liquid coats his elegant hands, the way a piece of small flesh falls from his too sharp to be human nails.

My gaze drifts to meet his, a feeling in the back of my mind telling me i simply must. His eyes pierce right through me, making me shiver in fear, as if he can see all there is to know about me with a simple glance, and the way he smirks tells me I'm right. My feet drag across the ground as I find myself being pulled towards him. My heart thunders in my chest at the idea of being any closer to this creature.

My feet pass the bodies of my parents and my best friends who lay in puddles of their own blood. All the while, my eyes stay trained on his, unable to look away, and unsure if I want to. I'm torn between wanting to run as far away as possible, and wanting to get just a little closer.

Just as there's merely a foot of space between us, and the revolting scent of blood practically burns my nose, he leans in close, "It's almost time, Custos lucis."

 I go to speak, but in an instant,everything vanishes in a single puff of black smoke that chokes me with its fumes, infecting my lungs with it's poison.

Another story idea you have to choose from. Much darker than many of the works you've read from me. :)