Silas opened his eyes, the dark that had surrounded him in his bedroom was forced to flee by a torch, carried by a figure so utterly cloaked by its clothing, that its face and body were undistinguishable. In front of it stood another figure, slowly stepping towards him, whose features were a lot easier to identify: dark hair, bright green eyes – like those of a cat – and strange marks on his skin – for it was a he. Trying to shrink backwards from the figures, he was terrified to find himself immobilized; his fear growing rapidly as the figure with the torch handed it to the other man and brought out a scalpel from somewhere about its person – if indeed it was a person. He tried to scream but his mouth wouldn't open as if glued shut.

The first figure was now at the bedside and the scalpel flashed in the torchlight, slicing two great slashes into Silas' face, above the forehead, over the eyelid, and down to the chin. This time, he found he could scream in pain, causing a grin to spread on the face of the man now holding the torch. Strangely though, he could still see despite the wounds through his eyes. The cloaked one took the torch back and its companion placed its hands on the slashes, causing Silas' wounds to burn with the pain of a thousand fires, something seemingly spreading from the hands into the wounds. Something dark. He screamed again, louder this time, and the grin grew to an ecstatic degree. He then moved away again, leaving Silas crying and moaning, taking the torch back from his companion, who deftly brought out a needle and thread and began to sew Silas' face back together, each piercing of the skin causing yet more anguish for the victim. His eyes drooped as he fell unconscious, the pain too great for him to bear.

He lurched up, awake now, and drenched in cold sweat, clasping his hand to his face, but there were no stitches, nor cuts, lining his features. Then turned and looked at the pillow. His blood turned cold. Blood, in lines, covered it. He span round, looking for the two that had trespassed into his room, but, to his relief, they weren't there. He glanced back at the pillow: there wasn't any blood there now. His mind was playing tricks with him. He lay back down and sighed. He was just nervous about the wedding, that was it. Nothing had really happened: he just needed to calm down and collect his thoughts...

The End

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