Chapter 4 Father Grim

A cold and dark wind gave the nearly vacant room a slight stench of moldy rotten wood. As one stays for a while, one comes to hear strange noises during the night. Except that in this room, it's always night. Grim’s father has been in this cell, for who knows how long. His bones have become weaker. He layed down beside a wall, thinking about his life up to this point. He had his wife beheaded, and even still he hears her voice in his head. She sings the tune of longing free in his mind, no matter what he could tried he could not take the tune out of his head.

He thought, I dance to this tune, a music box melody. Dancing to it’s sound, we hold each other tight, during the night of the moon. Coldly the wind blows, everywhere you go. Through the mountains, it blows. Other nights, silence and stench. The wind blows as I dance to the melody. It enjoys my pain, and suffering.

He wasn’t sure how it came to be that the melody came to be in his head, it would not go away despite the fact that he wanted to think about nothing. For the pain of his lonliness was to great. Earlier in the day, one of the guards walked into the cell, whipped up a storm on his back. He could still feel that sting, although he has somewhat gotten used to the pain over the past week. In some way one can never really get used to it; even if you got used to the initial strike, there was still that exposure to the air. He wasn’t sure how much pain he could feel in his wrists. He broke them, knowing a little bit of magic to fix them. Then slowly he slid out of the cuffs. Grim wasn’t sure whether he could use the same magic, to free his legs. He knew he still needed to walk.

Just then, he heard a gaurd again. One of his sons minions knocked on his the door. Grim then took a tray of food. “Banaecia, is it you again? To think that you used to be such a sweet little girl.” Grim was trying to manipulate her, and she knew it. So Baenacia simply ignored his advance. “Thank you for the food.” Grim said.

He wanted to find some way to escape, but at the moment he had to keep his wrists in the cuffs so it did not look like he was trying to escape. The last time he tried, he was not allowed to eat for about a week. Did not want to repeat that mistake again. He simply let her leave, and then another guard, a slightly older skeleton man, probably around eighteen, stared at him to make sure that he ate.

“Remember to not eat all your food now, just a tip from me.” the guard said, eye-balling him with his red eyes. The only thing Grim could see in the cell.

Once again Grim was left alone. ... Big mistake for them. He then, carefully as if to not make any noise, broke his ankles. He could her the sound of cracking, sounded like the sound of scraping chalk. Then slowly slid out of the cuffs. He walked over to the door in the cell, tried to eat a little bit of his food. He took the soup he was given, and then carefully rubbed the liquid onto his non-tongues. “Not bad, but way to much salt."

A guard came by later in the evening, peeked in the cell. Then noticed that the skeleton man was missing from the cuffs. Wondered how exactly he escaped. There he was gone. “Guards, guards, he is not with us.”

“Oh I’m here, but not where you think.” he said, then sang while breaking out: All the boys and girls dance dance with me. All the boys and girls, can't dance like me. Coldly in the night, I enjoy this dance.

Grim then walked out of the prison. Then came upon a ledge at the castle. Even though he would not die from the fall, he knew that it would hurt. Probably alot. No not probably, definitely. So Grim decided to make the leap of faith, into the skull-city below, as the guards were edging closer.

A whistle for Grim's skeleton eagle.

Then Grim flew off into the night. Grim's son King Trim stared at his father as he flew into the night through his window in the thrown room. “Guards! Guards! What is the meaning of this? Would you like me to take your skulls, and make a split!?” The guards did not want to be sliced apart by his father’s royal scythe, did not want to be living skulls. Decapitated heads staring into the night.

Grims father flew until he reached the city below the cliff of the castle. Here he attempted to hide, until he was able to find some sort of alleyway of which to lurk. Grim felt something pulsing behind him, felt something breathing that was not breathing. It was ... the flapping wings of Banaecia -- who kept him captive. Her eyes were on fire. It seemed as if she grew about a few feet larger. Grew a large coat of fur, and horns that would make the devil jelous. She carried around her scythe. "I'm going to make you hurt."

Eventually he was able to lose track of her.

“We have lost them, madam.” the servant said.

“We must meet Grim at the portal." Banaecia said.

At the death world side of the temple, he crawled into his coffin.

He warped.