Will be posting the re-edits as soon as i get them off Todd who is doing the writing for this Ego.
Willie the Freak - Origins
It’s the stench.
That’s the first thing you tend to notice about Willie. The stench was one of the reasons that Child and Family Services were involved when Willie was only five or six year of age. It’s difficult to get an accurate time line as hi mother accidentally swallowed twenty-seven sleeping pills and slipper with a razor while shaving her wrists and his father, now living off the government coffers and spending most evenings chasing the dragon doesn’t… or perhaps cannot talk about anything more historical then about twenty minutes ago. CFS found there was more then meets the eye. The stench, which, if I may wax poetically for a moment, closely resembled what I believe a corpse would smell like rotting in an August field of honeysuckle and clover. Sickly sweet. The stench, as it turns out was the least of their concerns. That’s what CFS put in their reports, on the stench that couldn’t be washed away.
Now I’m sure you would like to think that Willie was the product of a boorish ogre who drank too much and showed affection with his fists while his mother was a troll like female who, while pregnant with master William, was addicted to several illicit narcotics and perhaps threw herself down the basement stairs repeatedly to rid herself of the thing growing inside her.
You’d be wrong.
Willie’s parents both came from affluent families with respected names. Names that move to the front of any line. Outwardly, there was no good reason for something like William to exist. Generations of flawless happy babies were delivered to both sides of the bloodlines as said generations thought breeding with ones own was quite unnecessary and even may have been repulsed by the practice which for centuries had been prevalent in Europe until… what time is it now? Being more upper crust society, with a façade to maintain, Willie’s parents weren’t going to let something as insignificant as a monster tarnish their good name. Described to others as sickly but improving, our young Willie was kept away from polite society, under the watchful eye of a nanny who was paid a disgustingly huge sum to keep her thoughts to herself and answer with well scripted, well rehearsed lines if anyone was to ask about the poor wee lad. It was Anna who finally brought to the attention of CFS this poor twisted child after loosing an eye.
I wonder if William remembers Keith… Oh… did I forget to mention Williams twin? My sincerest apologies! It seems there were two lads born, seconds apart, after an unusually brutal period of labor and Keith, at the ripe old age of eight months was partially consumed by his loving brother. For all intents and purposes it was quietly reported as a crib death, of sorts.
Now that’s who Willie is but that’s not where he’s from.
The glistening aperture trembled and convulsed as though in great pain. Struggling to maintain it’s shape, it’s fluidity, it began to throb and turn in on itself, conscious of one world expelling something offensive while another shifts and prepares for it’s birth. The entity suffered birth and rebirth many times on many planes, with each birth, not knowing instinctively what it must do. A collector of essence, not souls, not flesh but the very essence of existence. The power of creation is awesome god-like but pales in comparison to the ability to leave entire worlds, entire universes dry empty husks. A soul is humanity’s weak interpretation of who it is. To justify it’s own existence. Close but not really. Shuddering in agony with the sense of it’s own death tearing, rippling it, the opening between worlds begins to collapse and decay as a single drop of light escapes. Formed to serve a single purpose the doorway dies, winking out, leaving the fabric of eternity smooth and unblemished.
The droplet of pure light knows nothing of luck or the circumstances of it’s being pushed through into this strange and new realm. It knows only that it must seek life, the essence of life. It divides and divides again, each new drop taking with it the purpose for its survival. As each new drop divides they branch off. Soon millions of particles of this creature cover the vast new hunting ground in search of its survival. Some will simply cease to exist finding only barren desolate worlds with the others feeling nothing of its passing, having no recollection of its brethren where the lucky few will find worlds full of nourishment.
A young woman finds herself pregnant for the first time, with twins, at seven and a half months one foetus dies, frightened to death by an intruder and its fading life force quickly replaced. There are no memories of worlds ravaged and consumed. There is only the single-minded purpose to survive. Taking also the thoughts and dreams and memories of those consumed, the light kept only the knowledge to help it survive, to be more efficient. The rest of the hazy, congealed vapour was digested as sustenance.
Born William Brian Sotherby, the entity found being confined to solid matter, tissue and bone, much to its liking. For the first time in its entire history it was aware of its surroundings, aware of itself. It began to learn.
