The Betrayal of an Angel

Underwood Standard Typewriter No. 5Freaktography via Compfight

“Dear Reader,

I haven’t the time to explain, but you must be informed on the supernatural deviltry that lies within. Behaviour is only the surface of a person’s identity. Inner thoughts and emotions can be quite the opposite of your peers view you as. Snapping points are inevitable, and unfortunately, you haven’t a clue on the damages that will be ensued. Taking the notion that a very minimal amount of people actually go insane from their inner rage kept me down and unaware, until that fateful day. My livelyhood had forever been scrutinized by a selfish and beastly being that of which I have never seen before. I cannot take my belongings with me, the demon will only have a better chance, so I must give them to those who find my apartment. I am so sorry…”

Sincerely, Winston Redek, September 25th, 1917

Report Location: Bristol, England

Date of Report: January 3rd, 1918

Character of Case: Disappearance, Treason

Synopsis: Upon the arrival to such estate, an immediate discovery has been made. The building has been ransacked, seeming as though the action was completed months before the investigation. The leftover belongings were in such an askew manner, while the only fingerprints lead to Winston Redek. A typewriter, based off of the Sholes and Glidden model, that contained an immense layer of dust, sat in the centre of a desk. On the floor, a wrinkled piece of yellowing paper laid underneath the cheap wooden chair that had been pushed out at a length where a person could sit. The writing had contained the send-off notice from Winston himself. Out of the blue, a picture of a prepubescent girl from decades before appeared next to the typewriter. The team must not have seen the frame before, but then again, how could they miss it? Wet blood had ran down the sides of the glass cover. What does it mean?

Falling, a never ending spiral. They took away my powers, my wings. I am back, but in the name of the unholy beast. I do not want to hurt, but I can’t control it. I have taken away the lives of so many. I am a demon. The thirst for blood is unstoppable. I must leave, but truly can’t leave myself. I kill without even knowing it. The demons of hell haunt me, pressuring my urges. Those who come into my footsteps are greeted with death from me or his minions. I am called weak for my past in the arms of the angels, but that is what kept me going. I am forever a fallen angel.

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