It all began on a chilly winter’s night, people too busy with their schedules, running back and forth between their cars to randomly scattered about buildings, much too busy to notice the eyes that followed their every step. Amidst the hustle and bustle a young man stood, a smirk painted upon his features, blank eyes fixed on the littered streets below their feet. Time slipped away at an achingly slow pace before one by one they lifted their head, and everything faded away.

Once upon a time there was a legend that told of a series of young men that haunted the dreams of young women. One must not take his hand no matter how charming he was. Yet the legend was now hundreds of years old and people no longer took the time to listen to the tales of their senile grandparents. Though you may ask, what exactly are they? Legends state of a band of young men that collectively trapped the innocent souls of young girls unable to resist their charms, holding them prisoner within their own empty shell.

The date was the second of January in the year thousand and eleven, few believed in the silly legends of the past, though even if just one person believed the legend would stay alive. It was a twisted paradise few are able to run from, so run while you can before they come for you too.

“Hey there little red riding hood, you sure are looking good. You’re everything a big bad wolf could want.”