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**DISCLAIMER* The characters were all made by me, so don't kidnap them. The places are real, but because I have never been to those places, some things may be drastically changed from what it really is. This story is not made to offend, so please don't be offended. This story was not made for anyone, or for a course in school, but for my own enjoyment and perhaps your own. This story is also not meant to be taken literally, for it is only a work of fiction. I don't want any emails saying that your child has hurt themselves or a friend because of what he/she read in my story (It has happened to me before). I am not responsible. Nobody under the age of 14 should read this story because of the language, violent scenes, mature situations, brief nudity, and gory details. This may damage a young reader's mind, so be cautious. And I might add, I do NOT want to see this re-written and placed on a website without my permission. I take plagarism very seriously. Otherwise, enjoy my first horror epic, "The Cursed Mark".**

The Cursed Mark-The Boy Who Was Immortal

The year was 1504. It was a cold autumn night when the fire snapped and bit into the wood of the nearby house. The house was engulfed in flames, as was the rest of the town. Blood stained the walls of the houses and drowned the grass. Not much of the ground was seen, however, if it was not for the half-burned corpses lying everywhere. Trenches ran through the middle of the streets and were flowing with black blood, almost like it was a small river of death leading out of the town and into the forest. No more screams could be heard. All were mercilessly killed.
A single man stood in the middle of the destruction. Unharmed, except for the wound on his cheek and his arm, which were both dripping blood, but it appeared that he must have had some kind of fight. He stood about 5'3", had dark blue eyes, and long white hair which covered his left shoulder no matter what way he turned. He was Japanese in culture. He wore black boots and pants, and a forest camouflage shirt, all custom made. He also brandished a light green falchion. The greenish glow from the blade was covered by blood, but the glow shone through still, however dim.
The man's expression was completely different from what you would assume at first. He is not happy that a seemingly large army must have destroyed them, women and children in all. He was not angry, even. A tear rolled down his cheek and mixed with the continuous stream of blood flowing down his neck. He silently weeped as his gaze slowly surveyed the carnage around him. He felt sorry for the people who used to live here and their families who might be living in a town nearby. Next morning, they will come here to see the ashes of what used to be their loved ones and friends and their homes.
"Nothing, again. . ." The man said slowly and sadly. He looked down at the thick pool of blood that lay directly in front of him, "It was inevitable. After all, every town is like this," He said quietly and sighed.
From the burning building behind him, a dark shadow emerged from the doorway and quietly made it's way to the man. The man was oblivious of the person behind him and just stood there and watched the town crumble.
The person behind him approached him and pulled out a sword.
By the time the man knew the person was there, the sword was swung.
The sharp weapon bit the man from his right shoulder and chewed down to his left side, cutting through most of his vital organs and cutting him in half. He looked shocked. He didn't even have time to yell. Blood sprayed from the gaping wound that left him in two pieces. The smell of fresh blood added to the smell of burning and dried blood. He fell forward, face into the pool of evil black darkness which has now become fresher and deeper. The man did not move from where he fell.
The person that was behind him showed his face. It was charred and burned from the fire and he was covered in blood. Anger flashed in his eyes.
"F-Finally. . . I killed him. . . he will not. . . hurt anymore. . . innocent people. . ." The man gasped. He had a huge wound in the right side of his chest and was gushing reddish black blood.
The man tried laughing, but the wound would not let him. He smiled instead and turned away from the mess.
The man from before loomed over him, falchion held high, "Make sure your enemies are dead before you count your victories!" He yelled as he brought his weapon down on the man. When the falchion stopped slicing the tip of it showed through the villager's chest and he looked very surprised. He fell.
"B-But. . . you. . . were. . . dead. . ." The villager said slowly and silently before he died.
The first man still stood there in his fighting pose. The bottom half of his shirt hung from him and was close to falling off. The top half still remained on him fine. It was hard to tell that he even had his shirt cut from the blood stains all over him.
The man brought his free hand up to touch where the villagers' sword cut him in two. He was breathing a little heavily now from exhaustion.
He heaved a sigh and turned away from the fresh newly dead body and walked toward the pool of blood.
"It's tainted now with my blood. It's dirty now," He said, "But I have to have at least some of it," He pulled out from his pocket a small jar and he bent down towards the blood and filled it. He then stood up and walked away from the smoldering and blazing town, "I guess I can go back to Japan. Maybe answers will come there."