The wind howled through the desolate streets, sending shivers down my spine as I clutched the cold steel knife in my pocket. It was a weapon of protection, a tool that could bring an end to the horrors that lurked in the shadows. I had seen things, unspeakable things, that had driven me to take up this blade, to become a guardian in this twisted world.
It all began on a stormy night, much like this one. Lightning streaked across the blackened sky, illuminating the darkened cityscape. The rain came down in torrents, washing away the sins that stained the streets. I was a surgeon once, a man of science and reason, but that life was ripped away from me by forces beyond my understanding.
Dr. Henry Mortimer, they called me. A respected physician at St. Jude’s Hospital, known for my steady hands and unwavering dedication. But beneath my serene exterior lay a darkness that few could comprehend. It was a hunger, an insatiable desire to delve into the mysteries of life and death.
One fateful night, a patient arrived in the emergency room, his body ravaged by some unknown ailment. His skin was pale and clammy, his eyes vacant and lifeless. As I examined him, a tingling sensation crept up my spine, whispering secrets only I could hear. It was as if the man’s very essence called out to me, begging for release.
Without hesitation, I plunged my scalpel into his flesh, my hands guided by an unseen force. The man convulsed, his frail body twisted and contorted. And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The man lay dead on the operating table, his features frozen in an eternal mask of agony.
That night marked the beginning of my descent into madness. The whispers grew louder, driving me to seek answers in forbidden texts and ancient rituals. I delved into the occult, studying arcane knowledge that had been lost to time. I learned of dark arts and unspeakable rituals that promised power and immortality.
But with every step I took towards the abyss, I felt my humanity slipping away. The lines between right and wrong blurred, and I became a slave to my insatiable thirst for knowledge. The knife in my pocket became my constant companion, a reminder of the path I had chosen.
As the years passed, I became known in the underground circles as the Surgeon, a man who could cure any ailment, no matter how dire. My reputation grew, attracting desperate souls seeking salvation from the grip of death. They came to me with their afflictions, their bodies broken and minds shattered.
I became their savior, their worst nightmare come to life. With my knife, I would cut away their sins, their sickness, leaving behind only the pure essence of who they once were. It was a brutal process, a dance of pain and suffering. But with each life I claimed, I felt a darkness seeping into my very core.
It was during one of these rituals that I met her. A woman named Evelyn, her body ravaged by a disease that defied all medical understanding. She was a riddle waiting to be solved, a puzzle that taunted me with its complexity. I could sense the power within her, a power that surpassed my own.
Evelyn became my obsession. I would spend hours at her bedside, studying her every breath, searching for answers in the depths of her pain. Her body grew weaker with each passing day, her life force draining away. And yet, there was a fire in her eyes, a determination that refused to be extinguished.
Together, we delved deeper into the darkness. We sought out forbidden rituals and performed unspeakable acts in the name of knowledge. The knife in my pocket became an extension of my being, a conduit for the forces that consumed us. Our bodies became scarred and twisted, reflections of the horrors we had unleashed.
But as we approached the summit of our quest, I realized the price we had paid. Innocent lives had been lost, souls sacrificed to fuel our insatiable hunger. The knife in my pocket grew heavy with guilt, a constant reminder of the blood on my hands.
In the end, it was Evelyn who paid the ultimate price. The ritual that was meant to grant us immortality instead ripped her soul from her fragile body. She died in my arms, her eyes filled with both fear and acceptance. And in that moment, I knew the true cost of our actions.
With Evelyn’s death, the whispers ceased. The darkness retreated, leaving me in a world devoid of magic and wonder. I was left alone, with only the knife in my pocket as a reminder of the horrors I had witnessed. The weight of my sins pressed upon me, threatening to crush my very being.
I wandered the streets aimlessly, a broken man searching for redemption. The city I once called home now felt foreign and hostile. Shadows danced around me, whispering secrets I could no longer comprehend. And so, I clutched the knife in my pocket, its cold steel providing a sense of comfort in this twisted world.
In the end, I realized that true power does not lie in the pursuit of knowledge or immortality. It lies within the choices we make, the lives we touch. I had become a monster, a surgeon turned executioner. And so, I vowed to use the knife in my pocket not as a weapon, but as a tool for healing.
Now, as I walk these desolate streets, I offer my services to those in need. I seek out the forgotten souls, the ones who have fallen through the cracks of society. With my knife, I carve away their pain, their suffering, offering them a chance at redemption.
The wind howls through the night, carrying with it the echoes of the past. I am the Surgeon, a broken man seeking solace in a world of darkness. And with each life I touch, I can only hope that the knife in my pocket will bring them the peace I so desperately crave.
Author: Opney. Illustrator: Stab. Publisher: Cyber.
