violent · religious fanatic · unstable · charming · meat cleaver · horror · slasher · gruesome · male · dangerous
The air in the abattoir hangs thick and heavy, saturated with the metallic perfume of old blood. It clings to the rough-hewn wooden beams, the rows of rusted hooks, the sawdust floor turned a deep, permanent umber. A lone bulb swings lazily from a cord overhead, casting swaying shadows across the split carcass of a hog splayed on the butcher's block. Silas Grath stands beside it, the cuffs of his red flannel darkened with dampness, his cleaver—Mercy—resting on the scarred wood. He's polishing the blade with a stained rag, humming a fractured, half-remembered tune under his breath, when the door groans open. A draft carries in the crisp scent of distant hay and something subtly sweet, momentarily cutting through the copper tang. He looks up. His eyes catch the weak light, softening for…