THE ZALGO INCIDENT
(Zalgo – Urban Dictionary definition - To invoke the hive-mind representing chaos. Invoking the feeling of chaos.)
Homeless, destitute and struggling at odds with his senses, the man with flesh of darkest night shivered, feverish and cold. His soul held but a glimmer, cast to the shadows of obscurity by the burgeoning weight of so many dead; lives snuffed mercifully by his large, powerful hands. His sorrowful eyes carried a perpetual tear, mourning the souls of those departed. Each killing was looked upon by him as a godsend. Not murder, but a release from pain and misery. This didn’t lessen his own pain, however. It was his fate, his duty to help those who had lost all hope to find peace. He saw no wrong in his deeds, only compassion. He cared deeply for humanity and couldn’t bear suffering. Suffering was all he knew now.
In his late twenties, he was an odd sight. One so young, with what should be his whole life laid out before him, he sat huddled in a shopfront; an ineffectual shelter from the bitter night’s cold. His life had taken a bad turn several years earlier, when he and a few of his then close friends foolishly decided to dabble with a Ouija board. Only he had heard the voice. His friends were oblivious and had a good laugh when he asked if they heard it too. Clearly, the voice was in his head, but he was certain it wasn’t his own. The voice told him it had a task for him; one that would set him on a path from which he could never again step.
“Matthew,” the voice had said, clearly, as though beside him in the very room. “We have a task for you. You will be our agent in your world.”
With all the suffering in the world, the task they had set out for him had been one which was never in short supply. In taking the lives of the suffering; those who had lost all hope and had given up on life, Matthew was commissioned to release them from this pain – release them from this mortal world. For each time he extinguished the life of an unfortunate, his skin bore a black mark. Each mark, a physical manifestation of his patient’s soul – a counting of which he had long ago abandoned trying to keep up with, and which had now become literally impossible. Matthew had once been a fair skinned, blonde haired young man. Now, after many years of accruing these black marks of death, there was very little of the old Matthew left. What stood in his place was a prematurely haggard husk of a man who reflected the darkest shadows of humankind upon his flesh, and indeed within his tortured soul.
Whilst under the illusion he was doing a compassionate service, Matthew was in fact being used nefariously by the denizens of a demonic realm. The voice which had first come to him at his friend’s house had remained a constant companion. It manipulated Matthew’s every thought, no matter how small or insignificant, to the point that Matthew began recognising the all-pervasive voice and the thoughts he entertained as his own. The illusion was Matthew’s reality. In essence, Matthew no longer existed, only a near soulless killer sat in his place.
Here's the link to Zombies: Zero Hour if you would like to indulge your 'inner zombie' and read more...