Not something I wrote but something someone sent me, rather good!
Mr Montignoly is the darkest of all men; such darkness that can not be seen by others, for it is not his complexion that defines such a trait for his face is as pale as a winter’s night, as if never touched by the warm rays of the daylight sun. To find the darkness of Mr Montignoly one would need to see beneath the flawless skin that encompasses his black soul kept alive by the rhythm of a cold heart. Harbouring a sinister brain devoid of acceptable thoughts, he could never be said to be a moral man.
From his first memory of life, it seemed that all the young boy could do, was to unwittingly anger his father, and be punished from night to morning and noon. Where his mother had gone, was his first question in life which his father would never address, this caused him pain that never died down and the comfort never came. Whether it a blessing or blot, ten years on, it was his father he found on the floor, beaten to a pulp and bleeding to death, he just stood and watched in awe.
As the young boy grew, the anger swelled like a pustule ripe to burst, but he drowned those feelings in his muddy soul, as he was passed from home to home, unwanted by most and disliked by many, in an orphanage he was left alone. From that day on the confused child grew, with a warped understanding of being; to stay hidden away, keep himself to himself and not to stand out in a crowd. And so it began, the reclusive life where others are not to be found, in a room, in a house built on the side of a hill, far from the hustle of life.
From the town nearby, rumours were told of the man that lived on the hill and those who dared to snoop around, would not regret it for long, for the rage laid dormant for all those years could be unleashed at the drop of an axe. With hate victorious in the old mans mind the child can not be heard. It would seem that as much as he despised the man who yelled and hit him, the child had grown up and become the one that started the very circle of sin.