The Myth of the Blood King

Ever since I was a young boy, I knew the myth of the one that everyone in this town feared. And while I may be 18 (heading out to college), I have heard little kids talking about him even to this day. And for good reason.

To this day, no one knows who he is, or even if he is truly real. All they know is… he’s a killer.

A few months before I was born, this town was said to be not only a tourist stop, but a destination. After his first attack, this didn’t stop, but after the fifth, people were too scared. Most of the business owners in this town were far more afraid, and moved away. And it was all because of him.

His supposed first victim came a month before my birth. An 11 year old boy wandered into the forest, and it was unknown what happened to him. Then, on September 11th (the same day I was born), he made himself public, killing two little girls in their sleep.

The bodies of the two girls were lying on the ground, and there were only two pieces of evidence that it was murder, one of which was the stab wounds in their necks (which were interestingly burnt as well. Almost as if someone had cut them with a laser). The other was a message scribbled on the wall:

‘Fear the Judgment of the Blood King’

Ever since that day, there was not a person in this town who didn’t know that name. I myself had done a little research, and found that this was not the first time that this name had appeared.

The first record of the Blood King came in the late 18th century. It told of a man with an insatiable will to destroy… who lived in this very town. And since then, there had been many other records of him, all of which were here.

This got me glad to leave this town. As I was packing my van, ready to head out, my mother came out and told me “Be careful out there.” And as we hugged for, like the fourth time that morning, she said “Visit if you can. I understand if you wouldn’t want to come back.”

After that was done, we said our goodbyes, and I headed out on my way. And of course I could take the normal route, but I figured that I would take the old dirt road. Not only would I get to see the forest I loved so much, but I would be able to skip traffic and get to a highway quicker. In short, I’d kill two birds with one stone.

Getting down the dirt road was not a hassle, but there was something about the road itself that was freaky. More often then not, there were tracks on the road, but whenever an attack would happen, I would notice something. There were human footprints, leading to somewhere.

As I reached the fork in the road, I noticed the sign, like I had many times before. It said on one side, ‘Path to the Highway’, and on the other, it just crudely said ‘Beware’. The path with ‘Beware’ pointing to it was something that had always been alluring to me, but I never got the chance to explore it…

Until now.

Turning down this road, I instantly regretted the decision. This part of the forest was dark, and disturbing, with a fog appearing the deeper in I went. It was almost as if the forest itself was telling me to turn back. And there was nothing I wanted more, but the trees were far too numerous. I’d have to keep going until I found a clearing or made it to the road or something.

Soon enough, the fog itself got thick enough to where I could literally see nothing, and it had also changed color somehow. The deeper I went, the fog became a deep shade of red, almost the same color as blood. It was at this point, I stopped my van, and got out. I could still make out the trees vaguely, and then I noticed something…

It looked like a person in the distance.

However, only a second after appearing, the silhouette faded. And I wanted to follow. As I did, the fog didn’t let up for a second, so I used the trees to find my way. Grabbing a tree, it came into focus, and noticed something carved into the tree itself.

It said ‘TURN BACK’. And this tree wasn’t the only one. As my trek continued, the trees said many other messages, such as ‘BEWARE’, ‘RUN AWAY’, and (most common) ‘FEAR HIM’.

Eventually, as using the trees proved to be useful to me, and I had made my way through the fog. Though I was nowhere near a road. The only road was the one that I came down… that was connected to a house.

It was a large house, but it was not in very good condition whatsoever. The color of the house itself was grey, but there were many red splotches all around it. Some of them in the shape of hand-prints. Though something told me it wasn’t just bad painting.

The closer I got to the house, I noticed the mysterious figure was nowhere to be found. Getting closer, and apparently having no common sense at all, I wanted to look inside, which is exactly what I did.

The inside of the house was far worse than the outside. There were bloody hand-prints virtually everywhere, and it was clear that some of them were fresh. There looked to be no one in the house, but that didn’t ease my nerves in the least.

Moving deeper in, I found a hallway. It was a long hallway, with no lights in it, and only a single window at the end of it. There was a staircase midway down the hall, but before that, I wanted to see out the window itself. Looking outside was a big mistake.

As I did, I noticed what looked like a graveyard, with a man standing out there. He was a pale, muscular man, looking to be in his late twenties (possibly early thirties). He had long greyish hair, was dressed in only a pair of tattered jeans, and was looked to have several scars on his body. With and appearance like that, I figured he wouldn’t like trespassers.

But seeing the man wasn’t what made it a mistake. It was the fact that he saw me!

I needed to hide desperately, so I headed up the stairs. It was either that or encounter the guy. So I went up them, and found myself in the attic. And so far, this was the creepiest part of the whole damn place.

There were many bones scattered everywhere. And following the theme of the house, there were many bloody hand-prints on the walls. Being sure not to make a sound, I came up, and found myself looking for a good place to hide. Though what I came across next stopped me dead in my tracks.

Looking at a wooden wall, I saw a satanic pentagram carved into it, and an inscription written in (you guessed it) blood.

And something was making me read it “For those who have listened to all of my strife,” I whispered to myself, “I have found a method for eternal life. Through death, my spirit will live on. But by then, my body is gone. When in my manor, their psyche shall shatter. And I will have control of them, their names now of no matter. Though this new me will follow a code. As strong and as true as am I. Those who enter this abode…”

“And displease the Blood King shall die!”

‘Do I dare look back,’ I thought to myself, practically sweating bullets. As I turned around slowly, the man was right there. Now I had a better look at the owner of that deep, dark voice. He looked the same as down in the graves, except now he was more in focus. His scars were also giving off a faint glow, and I got to see his creepiest attribute: His eyes.

They were pure black. No iris. No pupil. Just all black, all throughout his eyes. As I stared into them, I was 100% certain I would die. His attack of choice was a punch to the face, which knocked me directly out cold. The last thing I heard from him was “Be grateful I’m in a good mood today.”

A while later, I woke up back home, in my bed. As I asked my mother what happened, she simply said “We found you unconscious on the lawn. We assumed you were mugged.”

I got up to take a shower, and attempted to get the memories of that house out of my head. This proved impossible, once I looked at the mirror. On my right cheek, I had a small scar, that was glowing the same faint red as the man’s scars.

Returning to my room, I found a letter on my bed, that wasn’t there before. Hesitantly, I opened the letter, and read what it said:

‘Listen to me human. You got lucky today, to catch me in a good mood. I want you to know that as a master of Sorcery, I could have destroyed you at any moment, but I chose to go easy on you. I used said magic to return you to your home, to send you the letter you read right now, and to give you that scar. Consider that scar as me branding you. I will let you live, but if you return down that path, or so much as utter my name to others, it will be the end of you. Remember that.

Signed, The Blood King.’

As soon as I finished reading it, the paper burst into flames, and remained as a pile of dust on my floor. I was going to go and get my broom, but when I turned around, he was there again.

“Why are you here?” I asked, to which he responded, “I didn’t want you to doubt my powers.” Before snapping his fingers, and disappearing. I heard his voice faintly, saying “Remember that I can destroy you anytime I want. Challenge me, and you shall burn in the depths of Hell.”

After that day, I was never the same. I decided to leave town immediately (not even caring if there was traffic or not), and never returned. And for a reason that no one else could understand.

Many have heard the legend of the Blood King, but I have experienced it firsthand.