Condensed Background for Sebastian Wulfhiem

From Changeling Venue

• Name: Chef Sebastian Wulfmien
• Player: William Speakes
• Cam Number: US2002022482
• Concept: Bar/Restaurant owner / Food expert
• Virtue: Fortitude
• Vice: Lust
• Seeming: Fairest
• Kith: Draconic
• Court: Autumn
• Age: 42
• Born: September 6, 1965

BACKGROUND

I graduated from the Culinary Institute of America in 1987 at the age of 22. I was top in my class. I dreamed of being one of the great chefs of the world ever since I was 12 and my parents took me to France for vacation.

We traveled around the country and experienced the local tastes. I could not get enough. My father was in the military and my mother was a school teacher. I was an only child. I received the best private education that money could buy. When it was time for us to return to our home in Cincinnati, Ohio after our trip to France, my father decided that he and my mother wanted another few days there alone, as he was being deployed soon to Somalia to offer his opinion of the situation their regarding the civil war.

I returned home to my grandparents and was ready to meet up with my friends and tell them all about my experiences in France. I had been home for less than 36 hours when I came in from a full day of enjoying the heat of summer with my friends, when my Grandfather met me at the door. He had a pained look on his face and asked my friends to go home, as I would call them later.

I was a bit confused by my grandfather’s words, as I was told I could prepare dinner for them that evening and my friends were going to help me out. I shut the door behind me and did not even look at my grandpa, when I started rambling about shopping for food and ingredients for dinner. My rambling drowned out any others sounds in the old house and I headed to the kitchen to make a list so that my grandma and I could go to the store. I started opening cabinets and the refrigerator, when my grandpa grabbed me by the arm. I was taken back when I stared up into his face. It was filled with tears, shed and unshed. I took him by the hand and started to ask him what was wrong, when he blurted out that the plane my parents were on crashed that morning on its way from France to Italy.

My grandparents did their best to take care of me after my parents died, but they were not adept at taking care of a growing and curious teenager. I was sent off the boarding school the year after the tragedy of my parent’s death and spent the next four years at what I would call my home away from home. The school had a very broad liberal arts department where I was allowed to hone my culinary skills and showcase my talents before many different individuals. I was awarded my first James Beard award at the age of 17 for my work in the soup kitchens in New Hampshire.

Upon graduating from secondary school, I immediately applied for the Culinary Institute of America (CIA). I was quickly accepted and went on to be top in my class. A year after graduation, I was offered a Sous Chef position at the French Laundry in California. I worked for Chef Thomas Keller for a year before moving on to work for Chef Charlie Trotter in Chicago for two years. In 1993 I opened up Inhibitions, a Bar and Grill with a Classical French twist, in Cincinnati, Ohio, the home of my birth.

A year after opening my restaurant, my grandparents died in a house fire. It was a huge hit to me, both emotionally and mentally, but I just absorbed myself in my work and my drinking even further.

In 1995, I decided to return to Paris with the intention of gathering ideas for my new restaurant, Classical Lust, a French – American bistro and bar. I placed my Sous Chef in charge of Inhibitions and set off to the country that changed my life significantly as a youth and again as an adult.

I was in Paris doing research for my new restaurant, when I met a young woman who caught my fancy. She was a patron in one of the establishments that I was frequenting for their intimate knowledge of local cuisine. I spent several nights with her showing me the city. She seemed to know so much of the history; I could not help but think that this was exactly what I was looking for. It did help that her beauty was surpassed only by the beauty of the stars on a moonless night.

After several days and several encounters the woman, known to me as Cheryl Timone, invited me on a moonlit stroll through the countryside. We drove out to what seemed like the middle of nowhere and she instructed me to park the vehicle. When we got out of the car she began walking in to the dark trees that lined the road. As we began to get deeper into the woods, she asked me more of the same questions she was filled with from our previous encounters: What are my dreams? My hopes? My passions? My fears? What made me tick? Why did I choose the life I did?

Then, she stopped abruptly and turned to me. Her eyes seemed to glow in the dark night and the moonlight accentuated the muscles rippling in her athletic arms and legs. She turned to me and made me a proposition. She said that if I agreed to come and work for her for a short period of time, that she would guarantee that my life on earth was exactly what I wanted it to be. I laughed at her and she giggled. I, disbelievingly, told her that if she could do that I would be her willingly slave. Little did I know; those were the wrong words to use.

She took me by the hand and led me further into the woods. The canopy seemed to get darker and darker until I could not even see her hand on mine anymore. When I felt her slip away, I stumbled and fell into a thorn bush. As I tried to rise to my feet I became entangled further and further. Shadows seemed to reach out at me and unearthly wails beckoned to me. I cried out for Cheryl, but my cries went unanswered. When I finally pulled myself free, I wished I had not. A door stood before me and Cheryl stepped through. I dragged my bleeding, broken body across the threshold and felt a piece of my soul slip away.

She was known as the Lady in Red. She was a taskmistress that kept her pets close and her servants closer. She had very few lovers as she was intrigued by the human mind more than most. She had taken all of her slaves herself and they ranged from a few years of age up to around their mid twenties. I was the oldest she had ever taken.

I had very little to do in Faerie at first. She questioned me over and over again about life and the many facets of it. When we would talk about love or relationships she would get a glassy look in her ice blue eyes and drift off to somewhere I did not desire to be. After a few months with her I was more confused than anything. She occasionally had me train some of her servants how to cook for the others and she would let me have pretty much free reign within her home.

It was a giant palace, from what I remember. Twisting hallways that never seemed to lead to the same place twice. Stairs that went on forever and into nothing. Doors that opened to a solid wall or complete darkness. It was confusing and disorienting. The place seemed almost alive and willing to cater to your whim, if that whim was allowed by the Lady in Red.

After a year, she took me as a lover. This may seem like a wonderful thing, but it was just another experiment to her. She was beauty embodied, but with a strength that knew no bounds. She would beat me until I screamed, then caress me till I was aroused and beat me again. She would soothe my aches and pains by just a touch then bring them again with a fist of iron.

Time seemed to move at a glacial pace over the next several years. I was still allowed my freedom until the Lady decided that she wanted to play again. For several years I tried to make life a little better for those around me. I served as a father figure to many and protector to others. When the Lady would come to unleash her temper on the young ones for not doing exactly as they were told, I would send them off on another task and she would redirect her attention on me. I found myself enjoying some of our sessions together. Not all of them were filled with pain and fear. There were times when I longed for her touch, only to remember that she knew no love.

As time drew on I come to accept my fate. I missed my life on earth, but at least here in this strange world I had a purpose. I was not just out for fame, glory, and money. I meant something to someone and I was a father and mentor to many.

I had served the Lady for seven years. I missed my old life, but put it out of my mind as much as I could.

The most recent slave that the Lady brought home had been with us for about three months. He was in his early teens and was as violent as I have even seen. He attempted to fight back when the Lady would punish him for not doing as she asked and refused to accept his new fate.

He was causing a commotion with the other slaves and there was talk of escape for the first time since I had arrived. I attempted to quell the turmoil, but it was to no avail. The Lady had put me in charge of her new slave and demanded that I get him to conform or dispose of him. I had a feeling that I was going to have to get my hands dirty before he would conform. It would not be the first time, but the others may not like it as much this time as it seemed that he was rallying them around him.

I returned from the bedroom of my Keeper, my Lady, and my Love when I found several of the young ones crying by themselves in the garden. When I questioned them as to where everyone else was, they just sobbed harder and harder. My temper rose as I was getting no where and I stormed off looking for someone that would talk to me, not just ball their eyes out.

After some searching, I found two of the cooks in the kitchen. They were lying lifeless on the floor, one with his throat slit and the other with a gash above his right eye. I rushed to them immediately to see if they still lived and found that one still breathed, if only slightly. I questioned him as to what happened and he muttered about trying to stop him. My anger filled me and fear washed over me. I questioned him again and again. With his last breath he said one word, “Escaped”, he pointed towards the door and died.

I ran as fast as I could towards the front of my home in search of the slaves. I called for the Lady in Red, but she was not there. The house took its time granting me the path to the front and as I reached the outside I saw the backs of several young ones running into the brambles of the Forest from Beyond.

Without thinking, I ran after them, yelling at them to stop. I called out again and again for the Lady, but to no avail. I chased them through the brambles and into a forest. I tumbled forward as my foot found an errant root. I picked up my bleeding body and felt a sense of longing wash over me. I became nauseated and expelled my insides on the ground. I looked around for the slaves, but could not find a trace of them. I sat on the ground and cried.

Fear poured through every inch of my being and I knew I had to get back. I would be blamed and punished, but in time she would forget and a new crop of slaves would be there for me to take care of. I turned around to find the way from which I had come, but found that I had lost my bearings. Any sense of direction that I had gained while I was serving the Lady, was lost.

I was Lost. I felt tired and alone. I felt scared and beaten. I laid on the floor of the woods and hoped for death.

When I awoke, the sky was bright. The trees were crying on me, leaves falling all around. The wind brought with it a smell of cooked meat. My stomach growled loudly and propelled me to my feet.

I followed my nose for what seemed like miles on end without any sign of civilization. Eventually, I came upon a farm house. As I approached it, I saw smoke rising from the chimney and children playing in the field. I smelled the food wafting in force from the house. I worked my way through the field up to the house. As I got close, the children screamed and ran inside.

Shortly thereafter, a man came out of the house with a firearm at his side. When he saw me, he ran closer. He offered me his arm and asked me if I was alright. I could only mutter that I was hungry, so he led me to his house. As we entered the door, I saw my reflection in the glass; I was covered from head to toe in scrapes and scratches and blood was drying all over my body. I looked like a mess.

The farmer and his wife graciously fed me and helped me get cleaned up. They showed me to one of their rooms where I laid on the bed, only to pass out before my head even hit a pillow.

Several days later, I awoke to a young man standing over me. He looked vaguely familiar, but I could barely even remember my own name. He stared at me while I stirred in the bed. I eventually sat up and he ran from the room. The farmer’s wife came in with a tray of food. She asked me who I was and what I was doing in their field and why I was covered in blood, but I had no answers for her. I told her my name and then I devoured the tray of food she had put before me. I asked her where I was and what day it was. She answered that I was in rural Kentucky and it was October 3rd, 2000.

I racked my brain for why I was there, but I could figure nothing out. I got up off the bed and thanked the woman for her hospitality. As I was leaving her home, she called out to me that I was to be careful and if I needed to she could call someone for me. I didn’t know of anyone to call. I could not remember much at all.

As I walked down their driveway to the road, I tried to remember anything form my past. I checked my pockets and found that I had a wallet. It had my identification and several credit cards with my name on it. There was also about nine hundred dollars in cash in there.

I walked for a while on the rural road until I found a main drag. I stopped in at the first gas station I found and asked for directions to the nearest motel. I also asked the clerk to call me a cab. I bought some junk food and a six pack of beer and waited for the cab.

That night I drank my six pack and stared at the television as I passed out in the dingy motel room. My sleep was far from restful. I dreamt of a woman in red, luring me into a forest and locking me up in a house with many small children. She seduced me, beat me, tortured me, questioned me; but I did not seem to hate it. I woke from the nightmare in cold sweats and looked at the bedside clock. It was two in the morning. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Just as I began to fall asleep, there was a knock at the door.

I jumped up and ran to it. No one knew I was here, I didn’t know anyone. I thought to myself, “Who in the hell could this be?” I grabbed the lamp from the dresser and swung the door open. It was the young man from the farm house. He looked up at the lamp, laughed and walked in. As he stepped into the light of the room, I noticed a few things about him that were a bit odd. His ears seemed pointed, his skin seemed pale, his eyes seemed to glow, and his teeth were sharp and pointed.

He looked at me and told me to sit down. He asked me if I remembered him and I answered that of course I did, I just saw him less than twenty-four hours ago. He laughed again and shook his head. He asked if I remembered him from before that. I told him no, but I was having difficulty remembering a lot of things. He told me that that was normal after coming out of the “Hedge” and that my sense of being was a little whacked from my time in “Faerie”.

Now, I thought I was dealing with some crack head so I took a swing at him. He laughed again and caught my fist, mid-swing. He pushed me back on the bed and told me to sit tight; he had some things to explain to me. He told me that he remembered me helping him on many occasions and that I was the reason he was still alive. He told me that I was “The Father” and I sheltered him and many others from the Lady in Red. He then went on to tell me all about my time in “Arcadia”. He explained that he escaped several years ago and thought that he would never see anyone from the other side again. He had met someone that was like us, had been a prisoner in Faerie, and had escaped. That man explained to him everything that he was about to explain to me.

He told me his name was John and that was all I really needed to know about him. He went on to explain that he did some research and found out who I was. I was a chef in Cincinnati, OH, that owned several restaurants. I had been in the news and had been mentioned in magazines. My establishments were known all over the country. I was famous. I was wealthy. I was replaced with a “fetch”.

I had no idea what a “fetch” was, but I was told it was an autonomic being that took my place when I was captured by the Fae. It had all my memories and my personality. It had been living my life for the last seven years.

That was when it all came rushing back. Well most of it, anyway. I remembered my parents death, my grandparents death, my graduating from school, the awards I won, the hopes and dreams I had. I remembered the woman in Paris. I remembered her deal; that if I agreed to come and work for her for a short period of time, she would guarantee that my life on earth was exactly what I wanted it to be. She kept her promise. I still remember very little of what happened during my time in Faerie, other than it was filled with fear, yet I had a sense of longing for it that I could not explain.

I thanked John for all his knowledge and insight. I walked him to the door and said goodbye. I gathered my things and called another cab. I had it take me home. When we got close I had it drop me off a few houses down. I got out of the car and paid the driver. As he drove off, I wondered what I was going to do. I decided that I needed to get a look at this “imposter” and determine the best course of action.

I slowly walked up my driveway and saw that there were no lights on in the house. It was going on seven in the morning and I suppose that the “fetch” could have already left. I crept closer to the front door, when a light came on in the upstairs of the house. I ducked down behind a bush and waited.

After about an hour, the fetch came out of my house and got in my car and drove off. I looked up at the house and saw no other lights on. I assumed that I was still single, as if the fetch had my personality before I went to Arcadia, no woman would put up with my ego or my temper. I tried to open the front door, but it was locked. I went around the back of the house and tried one of the screen doors on the patio and found that it was open. I pushed my way in and began searching my house for signs of life.

When I found no one else there, I began to look for other things, like what I had been up to for the last seven years. I also began to devise a plan to get my life back. I found that I had opened a new restaurant upon returning from my trip to Paris. I found that I had been featured on the Food Network on several occasions and was even offered my own show, which I turned down. I found that I had received a Mobile rating of 3 stars and that there were a slew of young chefs that were begging to work for me. I also found a rope and a baseball bat.

I set a chair in the middle of my living room, made sure that it was not viewable from the outside, and I waited for the imposter to return. At around one in the morning, the front door of my house opened. I sat in the shadows waiting for the fetch to close the door and relax. As he had his back to me, I crept from my hiding spot and quietly approached him from behind.

He locked the deadbolt and began to turn around, only to be met by a baseball bat to the cranium. He dropped like a whores pants on twenty-five cent wing night. I drug him to the chair and tied him up securely using the rope I had found. I went over to the wall and turned on the lights. I tightened my grip on the baseball bat as I walked over to the fetch.

I stopped dead in my tracks. I was looking at a mirror image of myself. I don’t know what I expected, but that was not it. I shook off the initial shock and raised the bat to swing at his legs. I brought it down hard and heard his knees crack as they broke. I stood in shock as I screamed in horror at myself.

Fear and panic took over and I swung over and over again. Eventually the screaming had stopped and I looked down at the bloody mess that no longer resembled me or anyone else, for that matter. So much for questioning him on what my life was like. So much for pumping him for information. I fell to my knees and cried. I didn’t know what to do. I had killed him.

I pulled myself up and forced myself to look at it – him. As I had beat it to death, blood flowed out and ran over everything, now that the blood was drying and I could see better, I saw that it was made up of what looked like spare parts. It had broken down to what seemed to be random combinations of mundane things. It had no internal organs and no brain. It was just what John had told me, an autonomic creation made by the one that took me to take my place on earth. It made me feel a little better to believe this.

After I disposed of the “body”, I cleaned my house from top to bottom. I called my Sous Chef from Inhibitions and asked him to come over. I needed to discuss some things with him.

When he arrived I told him that I was coming down with something and that I would be away from the restaurants for a few days. I explained to him that he was to promote someone to Sous Chef and that he was to be my new Executive Chef for Inhibitions. He looked at me like I had nine heads and explained that he was already the Exec at Inhibitions. And I had appointed a General Manager over both restaurants to handle the day to day activities.

I told him I was taking some medication that was messing with my memory and I needed to ask him a few more questions. He seemed to buy that response, so I continued. I asked him what the name, theme, and location of this other restaurant were. He told me it was called Classical Lust, and it was an American Bistro and coffee bar with live music.

It was just what I was planning on opening when I left for Paris. I smiled. I questioned him for a little while longer until he encouraged me to get in bed. I saw him to the door and went off to find all the information I could about my life. I found a computer sitting at a desk in the office. I turned it on and spent the next several days learning all about myself.

When I figured out everything that I thought I needed to know from the computer and a few phone calls to people in my rolodex, I finally decided on a course of action. I was going to find John and talk to him about how many others there were that were like us.

Later that year, I met Contrary Mary. She showed me things that I never dreamed of. She explained to me where I could find wondrous fruits and plants that were the product of Arcadia. They were located in the Hedge. The border lands between our world and Faerie. I learned many things from her. I decided to open a new restaurant called The Hedgeapple after one of my favorite fruits from the hedge and cater to mainly changeling, as I came to know we were called, society.

After The Hedgeapple had been opened for a year, I knew it was the right thing to do. I met many people like myself in many ways. People from all over were stopping in to enjoy my concoctions of Hedge fruit and mortal food. I was happy again; at least I thought I was.

I had everything I always wanted, but I still felt as if there was something missing. I still had dreams about the Lady in Red. I still longed for her touch. I longed for what she gave me: purpose.

One night, after closing The Hedgeapple, I decided to walk for a while before going home. As I came to the end of the country road where The Hedgeapple was located I heard several voices that sounded like teenagers causing trouble. I wondered over to the direction where the sound was coming from.

I came to a clearing where there was a car parked with its lights on and the radio blasting loud rap music. I crept closer to get a better view and my adrenaline pumped faster and faster. As I got closer, I could hear a girl screaming over the bumping bass of the music. I could hear the fear in her voice. It felt wonderful. I became aroused just from hearing the blood curdling scream. I moved in closer for a better view and found myself watching two young men physically dominate a much younger girl into sexual subservience. I watched with awe and wonder. I could hear the laughter echo through my head. The girl’s emotions washed over me in a flood and I nearly passed out. I slowly back out of the clearing and continued to listen to her screams.

Eventually, the boys had had their fill and threw her on the ground. They jumped in their car and drove off. I could hear her whimpering and I could not stop myself from pleasuring myself to her cries. As I climaxed I felt shame pour over me and I quickly cleaned myself up. I buried my spilled seed in the ground and ran away from there, never looking back.

Over the next few nights, I dreamt of my time in Arcadia. I dreamt of the pleasure that I received from pain at the hands of a goddess. I dreamt of the times I spent intercepting the wrath of said goddess for the sake of those weaker than I. I dreamt of pain, pleasure, duty, honor, fear, and agony all rolled into one. I was having a hard time pulling the concepts apart. They were flowing together too tightly.

After a year, I felt more alone than I had ever felt in all my life. I had fame and fortune, friends and lovers, but I still was missing something. I had not felt alive since I returned from the Other place. I tried to fill that void with drinking, drugs, women, money, fame, but none of them worked. The only time I came close to feeling filled was the night I watched that poor girl get raped.

I began hanging out in dark alleys and out of the way projects, hoping to run into something that excited me, something that filled me. As I spent more and more time there, I could feel the fear wafting off the people that lived there. I could taste their sweat and pain mixing with their angst that seemed to be all that filled their miserable little lives. It was euphoric. I could not get enough.

I sought out fear for a few weeks, when it became harder and harder to find new people. I thought about creating fear myself, but I did not know if I could. Every time I thought of instilling fear in someone I would have nightmares about children crying in my arms and young men and women running away and it was all my fault. I did not know what to do. Then I thought of John.

John helped me out a ton when he found me lying in that hotel room lost and confused. Contrary Mary helped me when she showed me the Hedge and its many wonders. There was one thing that neither talked about, but both hinted at. Mortals could wonder into the Hedge and the Others could take them.

What if they were afraid to go near where the hedge was? What if they knew a reason to be afraid? Then I could protect them and still feed off their fears. So I began searching out for places in our world where the hedge was evident, places where some unknowing mortal could wander off and never return. When I found one, I came up with a plan.

I could not stand out here and scare them just by telling them things, I could not very well attack them myself; I was famous. I was a celebrity. I had a recognizable face. So, I began to think about a way to hide who I was. I thought about masks and makeup, I thought about baggy clothes and hoods, but none of it seemed to fit the bill.

I began thinking on an individual scale. I looked at the traffic around the area where the Hedge peeked its way into the mortal world, and found that it was mainly teenagers making out in a field near a line of trees. Occasionally the teens would wander from their cars and seek privacy in the line of trees, which just happened to hide an entrance into the Hedge.

At first I tried to spread rumors of an old man that lived in the woods that had escaped from prison over 30 years ago. They gave up on finding him when they would send their dogs into find him only to never see the dog again. When they would search the sites where the dogs should have been they found bones picked clean of any meat that might have once been on them. When the dogs stopped coming he hunted and killed all the game in the area. When he ran out of game he found that teenagers were wandering into his woods some evenings and he would wait for them in the cover of night. Watch them as their teenage bodies got sweaty and dirty from their humorous attempts at love making, and then would drag them kicking and screaming to his hole in the ground where he would skin them alive one at a time, making the girl watch as the boy was eaten alive. Then he would skin her and eat her as well.

The rumor did not seem to catch on quick enough, so I followed one home to see what made him tick. I sat outside the young man’s window and watched him as he slept. I could taste the sweet scent of fear rolling from his bedroom as he slept and I concentrated on soaking that in, when I found myself in the young man’s dream.

I was taken aback and stood at a distance at first. Then an idea came to me. What if I could shape his dreams? I could place the fear of the Old Man in his dreams and the dreams of his friends and that would help spread the rumor.

So over the next few nights, I would leave work early and follow one of the teenagers home. I entered their dreams and replayed the same story over and over again. Each time it was a different set of teenagers going into the woods and never coming back.

Eventually, the fear was almost too much. Eventually, the teenagers dwindled down to almost nothing. Those that were left, enjoyed the fear that being there brought and came anyway, getting closer to the woods each time.

I enjoyed the fear, but I was scared that one of them would wander into the Hedge. I had to do something about it. I had to make them believe that the Old Man was real and not something to tempt.

So I took a week off from work and told my employees and my patrons that I was going back to Paris to gain a little more knowledge and new ideas for another restaurant. I hated to lie to them, but this was more important. I had to protect the masses.

I took with me a shovel and a boning knife along with some baggy clothes and a hood. I stashed my car about a mile away and placed a change of clothes there. I sanitized myself thoroughly and put on my 2 pairs of latex gloves. I donned a butcher’s apron and headed into the woods. I dug a hole in the ground which took me a full day and a half to dig. It was a small cave when I was through. I also had brought with me 4 meat hooks and some wall anchors. I drove the anchors into the rock that was at the back wall of the cave and hung two of the meat hooks in them. I then waited for nightfall and the arrival of the teens.

Several cars arrived at once. Most of them stayed running and the windows quickly fogged up. I could feel the fear soaking into my pores. I had one of the meat hooks in each hand and laid there waiting.

After about twenty minutes the driver’s side door of an old Ford opened and a lanky teenage boy stumbled out of the car. He drunkenly walked to the passenger side and opened the door. I could hear the girl saying that she did not want to, the Old Man was out there, she knew someone that was taken by him and they only ever found their bones. He laughed at her and told her it was just an urban legend and there was no Old Man. Boy, was he wrong.

He convinced her to come with him into the woods and proceeded to grope her as soon as they were under the canopy of the first tree. I watched as he clumsily undid her bra and treated her young budding breasts like they were wads of pizza dough. I watched as he stuck his hand down her pants and tried to dance out of his. I watched him push her on her back and enter her tight young honey pot with his tiny member. He grunted twice and rolled off of her. She laid there with a look of disgust on her face.

I picked up the rock that I had set beside me and knocked her in the head while her boyfriend lie on the ground in post coital bliss. When the loud thud rang from her skull he looked up only to be greeted with a rock to the face.

I slid the meat hooks in to their backs, just under the shoulder blades. I then drug them to the cave where I gagged them both and tied them up with their own clothes. I then hung the meat hooks next to the other two and inserted the ones already hanging into the other side of their backs.

I smacked the girl awake and let her take in her surroundings. She began to scream when she saw her naked boyfriend hanging across from her and then realized she was in the same predicament. Her eyes swept the room and when they found mine, I almost chocked on the fear that was filling that small space.

I reached up with my knife and slit her eyelids ever so gently, peeling them away from her closed eyes. Her muffled screams got louder. I then moved to her teenage lover and slit him open from neck to groin. He awoke with a start and began screaming around his own gag. Tear poured from her lidless eyes and he passed out from the pain. I watched as urine ran down her leg and the young man actually had a bowel movement hanging there. Then, I realized her was dead. I skinned the corpse and broke down the boy into quarters like I would a cow.

I stashed the boy in a hole that I had dug while waiting for the teenagers to arrive in the bottom of the cave-like pit. I then slapped the girl awake, yet again. I ran my knife over her body extracting the fear in gulping doses. I then drove it home, worried about time, and watched as the life died out of her green eyes.

I broke down her corpse as well and left most of the bones on the floor of the pit. I made sure that I left no trace that could be tied back to me and I slipped off all my clothes except my boxers and my first of 4 pairs of socks. I then hightailed it back to my car and got dressed. I headed off in the opposite direction of the field and made my way back to my house.

I listened to the news the next day and read the paper. The Old Man of California, KY was real and they had dead bodies to prove it. They were looking for him, but had no suspects as of yet. They were however, looking at the prison records from the area from thirty years ago.

I eventually returned from my Paris vacation and went back to work at my restaurant. I still look to dine on the fear of those around me, but only when it is bringing safety and hope to the masses. I have played out the part of the Old Man several other times in several other areas, warning the locals off from danger. I play my part and I feel almost whole again. There is still something missing, but I still don’t know what it is. This should do for now.

Recently, I believe I have someone following me. I think they are trying to get a rise out of me. Good luck, Chuko. I am the fear monger, not you.

Sebastian Wulfhiem CEC