Theodore The Immortal

Never afore, have I glimpsed of a villain, so conspicuously pregnant with that ominous, venom of expression, that which the moribund will recite in the ensuing testimony of their demise. It is not a thing of incident which brings me to the burning eyes, and the corrugated mien of satanic rage, that I find ready in the possession of my foe. This has long been a prospect of mine, and I have endured the tolling dread, and the eerie suspicion of my conscious, unredeemed by any magnitude of emancipating aspiration. I could say i have died long before my death. It is Gareth who lingers in my adjacence, frothing with hideous intensity, gasping for breath under the oppression of insufferable desire. I may call it demonic hedonism, festering even the tissue of his cold heart, like some profane gangrene. The thought of his impending revenge has become violently lucid, in the present transaction. Perhaps I should have not opened the threshold upon his friendly insist! No, I cannot dwell on the receding compromise of contemplation, for I may strengthen the command of my despair.

"This is the last you will disrespect me Theodore. I am not of a forgiving strain. Only the lord in heaven will show you compassion, just as he has, in the name of his son" and to this, I feel pursued by parallel and yet astonishingly miscible oxymorons, of a chilling burn, a languid upheaval, and the stirring of a dead awakening. I groan when he reveals a pistol, and trembles in its unemployed grasp. He paces towards me and in my attempts to recede, I fall upon my floorboards and crawl into the corner of the precinct walls. My senses are clotted with a numbing fever of horror, and I can only sob and cover my eyes. I suddenly hear a loud thud, one which I feel as having the explosive magnitude of some nuclear force. My heart stops, and yields to the pervasive quiet. I open my eyes, trembling, in the effect of what felt like a nightmare. He is incumbent upon the floor, he is dead?! I arise from my resigned position to inspect the visitant. Yes, he has injected the iron seed in his brain, but not to my revulsion but rather to my delight. I kick him harshly as to my liberty. Ha ha! I am alive! I have won the war, for am I not Theodore the immortal!