Delighted Meeting.

A relaxed expression.

Unusual. Is it?

Is it unusual to be such at ease when looking like a corpse? Or is it the fact that he is a corpse that he's so at ease? I wonder, will my face ever look so blissful. This dirty face, I know it's scary.

But look!

The hair on his face is still black - his black eyebrows, thick they are too! His hair is brimming with life!

How odd!

And his arms, where are they? So thin - I'm sure they are there somewhere. Imagine the man with no arms, that would be a stunning sight indeed!

A hearty laugh echoed along the walls of Prince's mind.

Prince took another step forward.

I'm sorry man, I'm going to defile your corpse, and for that I must apoligise in earnest.

Forgive me!

Forgive me for this sin - for this devilish deed !

Prince begged like a monk in front of God.

He took another step forward.

Prince was a tiger on the verge of catching his prey.

A twisted painful expression plagued Prince.

His throat tightened.

His brain was acheing and his heart was thumping.

Pain which infected his skull like plant roots in concrete.

Such agony.

Such depravity.

Prince's mind was split into apathy and madness.

Descend already.

Prince descended upon the corpse, looking down upon the man with judgement.

Prince leaned in closer.

Prince was staring into the eyelids of the man - closer than ever.

The man's eyelids twitched.

The man's eyelids opened.

Prince's heart was consumed into an abyss, a never-ending abyss.

His heart was devoured, spit out, devoured again.

Consumed by darkness, stabbing pain spread through the veins in his heart.

Pain which spread to the rest of his body.

Prince jumped like a cat.

Prince's mind darting like mad.

Prince's heart sinking like a wrecked ship - his grip on the knife violating.

Prince's eyes shrouded in fear, a laser gaze - one filled with panic and proclaim.

"Are you going to do it?" The man asked laughing.

Like a farmer at a pig's throat - Prince noticed his knife aimed at the man.

"Ya know... Take my life."

Prince was taken aback, he was alarmed, yet Prince dropped his knife slowly - surprising himself when he did so.

Shouldn't he have remained more vigilent? More cautious? When did his reason leave him? When did his foolery become second nature?

The dying man let out a hearty laugh and their eyes locked.

"Have you nothing to say boy?" Laughing yet again, waiting for Prince to speak - he didn't.

"Have you no shame?" The man asked again but with curiosity. His seemingly lifeless eyes diffusing with glints of fire.

Prince's lips were dry.

He licked them.

The air in his throat was baking.

He attempted to clear his throat and failed, so he spoke anyways.

"Who-" His throat betraying him, "Who are you?"

"What a splendid question indeed ! But didn't you know its common courtesy to announce one's name before they ask another?" The man jeered almost instantaneously.

Prince's face was numb, his lips were dry, his throat was like the shell of a boiled prawn.

"Prince, my name is Prince."

The man descended into maddening laughter.

"Prince you say? Prince?" Laughter from the pits of hell echoed along. "Your name is Prince, do they just go around giving anyone titles these days? Tell me boy, what are you the prince of?"

Prince's eyes narrowed, a disgusted scowl was begging to be let on - Prince hid it well.

"I am the prince of Nothing."