His was a passion worth dying for. His peculiar thoughts shaped him into an attractive monster. The minute Tony started to realise that his thoughts were different and too dangerous to just remain thoughts, his love of writing came to his rescue.
His writing broke boundaries. He gave new definition to the horror genre. To the public he was the 30th century’s William Shakespeare, while others argued that he has somehow set a new higher record that will go down in history.
But all he was trying to do, was to curb the urge to kill. A passion for seeing the sight of gushing blood, to hear screams of terror. Yes, Tony, was one of a kind. To his defence, he was not possessed, he just saw the world a bit better than an ordinary being.
A normal being would see him as a cannibal. But why is it okay to spill blood of animals, shed blood in wars for the sake of money and power and killing the earth just to keep yourself alive and expand?
He warned them. He wrote to them. He wrote in earth shattering words and they applauded and praised his work. Why did they not see, he can’t keep it in anymore. The writing that was once sufficient to quench his thirst, is now just as useless as a drunk trying to drown his sorrows with alcohol.
Tony is not a novel writer turned serial killer nor is he possessed, Tony is an honest man seeking to eliminate hypocrisy.