Archive for November 7th, 2012

#7 Bodil Lockhart.

At the tender age of six Bodil Lockhart witnessed the murder of both her parents. They had not exactly been pillars of the community but they had loved Bodil more than anything. Her father, Danny was a small time player in the mob, a thug, a bodyguard but a loving dad. Her mother, Danny’s childhood sweetheart, loved him despite what everyone said about him.

Times were tough and Danny had been skimming some cash from his boss, Carver, who quickly found out. Carver was a small fish in a big pond, and so he wanted to make an example out of Danny, make a name for himself. He hired the best hitman around, the man only spoken about in whispers.

He hired Wolf Down.

On a warm autumn evening when everyone was asleep, Wolf Down broke in to the Lockhart home. Bodil woke up to hear the last cry of her mother. She snuck from her bed and crept towards her parents’ room; the door was ajar and the carpet was covered in blood. As she looked into the room, the large red eyes of a skeleton thin, albino white man in a suit met hers. His blood smeared mouth curled into a smile as he tilted his head to one side. He spoke to her once.

“I was only paid to kill two. And I am full now.”

That was all Bodil remembered of the man she later learnt to be Wolf Down. The police had never found him, or her parent’s bodies, and the case had gone cold years ago. Bodil hadn’t given up, just grown up. She spent the next twelve years of her life tracking this hitman. She learnt self-defense mixed martial arts, she learnt to fence and shoot. She trained for revenge.

During this time, Boss Carver had risen through the mob ranks and was now running the town. Word on the street said that Wolf Down was Carver’s right hand man, never seen with him publically but always taking care of the dirty work. Bodil decided she needed to become that dirty work. Causing trouble for Carver in any way that she could soon meant that she was the top of Wolf Down’s list.

He broke into her home like he had her parents’ – but this time, she was waiting for him. The gaunt white figure entered her room. Bodil shot him clear in the chest, clear through the heart. Wolf Down screamed as his face twisted and distorted. His eyes bulged and turned red as his jaw unlatched and dropped, his mouth growing and ripping, opening like a Venus fly trap.

He crumpled to the floor as a sickening screeching sound escaped his lips, accompanied by a cloud of billowing black smoke. His face turned human again.

Bodil approached him. His eyes looked sad now; all the red had drained from them. He opened his mouth and spoke.

“Pishacha. Run child!”

His warning was far too late. The black smoke poured over Bodil, into her mouth, ears and nostrils. The evil, demonic spirit of the Pishacha had a new host now. It had Bodil. The Pishacha needed human flesh and organs to survive, and Bodil needed to finish what she had started. She needed to kill Carver.

It was time to eat.