• In the 1800s there was a small fishing village
    on the english coast by the name of Jutesclaw.
    It sat partly on a semi-flat plain, and partly on
    rolling green hills. It was bordered by the seas
    magestic waves.
    Most of the residents of Jutesclaw could have
    been described as poor and middle class fishermen,
    but there were a few richer aristocratic familys
    that lived there. They built their homes, often
    large manses, on the hills, and the view from
    any one of them could have been described as brilliant.
    Now, it was a very commonplace event for
    familys to take long vacations to visit America or
    London, as one of the aristocratic families was
    planning to do. However, their eldest son, Silas, had been afflicted by a mysterious fever for some time. They knew he could not travel in his state, for he could not even leave his bed. Not one of the family members was willing to stay with him though, so they opted to hire a live in doctor.
    Only a few doctors applied, but the position went
    to a young man named Percival. He was tall and
    skinny, and had shoulder length blond hair, and
    always seemed to have a grin on his face as if he
    expected to be in good fortune soon. It would have been unsettling had it not seemed so friendly.
    The family left, and said their good-byes.
    No one saw Percival's grin as he latched the door behind them and began towards Silas's room. He lightly rapt on the door, and, having heard no reply, opened it. The windows in the hallway were shinning brightly, and the act shone light on Silas's sleeping face. He was in a white night gown, and his golden blond hair was cast up and around his face. he began to stir. Silas, being half asleep and hallucinating, saw a
    young blond haired man with wings standing in his
    doorway; an angel, he though.
    "Angel? Have you come for me, finally?" Silas asked softly. His body and mind had been wracked by greatpain because of his sickness. His family members didn't visit him often, either because they were afraid of catching his illness, or they didn't care for his problems.
    Percival sat down on the chair besides Silas's bed, and pulled a syringe outof his bag. He chuckled, and began, "I am here to take you, but first I will heal you. Nevermind my intrusion, and sleep again." With that he pushed the syringe into Silas's arm and injected it. Sials fell back into a fitfull asleep, and Percival left. Grinning, of course.
    Silas forgot about their first encounter. He and Percival would spend much time in the weeks the family was gone together, and thus they grew very close. They talked about everything. Life, love, death, dreams, childhood, memories, anything. Silas's trust for Percival grew. And Silas grew better and better, until he was well enough to walk. He noticed that Percival was growing a little sick as he grew better. Percival dismissed his worries though, and insisted he was fine.
    They began to talk in the sunroom. The sunroom was a grand room with stone floors so polished you could see your reflection in it. The walls were made almost completly of colored glass, save for the wooden slats that supported them.
    It was, in a word, magnificent.
    Silas was growing discontent, however, for he knew that his family would by returning home within the week. He knew that he would loose his friend, for Percival had told him before that he planned on leaving Jutesclaw once the family returned.
    "But," Percival began one day while they were in the sunroom, "You don't have to work about it, because you're never going to see your family again."
    Silas was quite confused by what Percival had said, and asked, "Percy, whatever do you mean by that? I'll see them quite soon..."
    Percival stood up off of his chair and faced Silas. he was grining very wide; almost inhumanly, thought Silas. He was begining to feel ill again.
    " Well, you see Silas, your fever killed you today."
    Percival started walking towards Silas, and Silas tried to stand up to face him. He was once again in the fevers thrall, though, and fell clumsily to the ground.
    "Percy! Percy! What did you do? I feel... I feel a... awful..." Percival advanced until Silas's back was to the wall. The stained glass behind him made elaborate patterns on his nightgown. His face took on a pained expression as he looked up at Percival, who was kneeling by him, grinning.
    He began, "It is quite a sad and complex story, and I doubt a human could understand..." Silas's eyes widened in fear, and he cried out, "Human?! Are you not human too, Percy? Percy?! What manner of fiend are you!?"
    Percival chuckled, and said, "You shouldn't have interupted me, Silas. It's quite rude, you know." He moved his arm up and pinned Silas's shoulder to the
    wall. "I was going to explain... You see, humans don't have a name for what I am. Only creature that get caught have names, and I never will. Anyway, think of it like this; I am a being that looks so human, acts so human, and is so human I might as well be human. But I'm not. I feed off of humans. Let me tell you how I work.
    "I get very close to my victims, I know them inside and out, I see their souls! I become my vicitm. That's what I did with you. I became your second self; you were to oblivious, or just to human to notice. little by little, I grew closer to you by making you think I was your friend, and that I was healing you. Really, I was taking your sickness into myself; your self. Your second body.
    "Now that I'm completly part of you though, I don't need you to trust me. Your fear amuses me, actually. But your soul accepts me."
    The only thing holding Silas up was Percivals tight grip on his shoulder. He was on the verge of passing out, and would have fallen over completly had Percival let go. But he didn't. He held on tighter.
    "S...souls? W...hy... how?" Silas tried to speak, but he was quite ill again, and could not form the right words. He wanted to scream, but he had not the energy to do so. He watched as Percival drew close to his face, as if he were about to kiss him.
    "Yes, souls. Or life. Whichever you prefer to call it. Not like it matters." Percival opened his mouth and hovered close to Silas's. Silas felt a lurch, and saw a thin wisp of what looked like smoke come from his own mouth, and go into Percivals.
    "See? It's quite easy to do!" Percival said excitedly. Silas's vision faded in and out, and he ultimatly fell unconscious.
    Percival wrote to the family, and explained what had happened. When family arrived, they were dismayed that Silas's fever had finally claimed him only days before thier arrival. Percival comforted them, and took his leave. The family was a little unsureabouthim though, for all of the times he talked to them about the death, an almost sadistic grin grew on his face. He left the manse with the same grin.