A youth stands above a certain woman's bed, a smile creeps apon his face as he draws an obsidian blade form the sleeve of his coat. The blade, darker than night.

His smile grows larger, whilst the obsidian shines from the light of the full moon from the window.

He brings the dagger down into her neck.

Jaken is a cultist follower who bases their entire life on their unique and radical teachings.

"I hate, I hate so much."

[hr]

Jaken dies and is reborn

bla bla bla bla

sorry, I really can't make very good descriptions. the story is basically a character based on my own personality's logical extreme. I made this story specifically because I hated how characters acted in certain situations. by the way, this will probably disturb you in some way. At least that is what I'm going for.