text: The voices....the voices are growing in number,not really voices, but whispers. They tell me things, they say they are here to help,but they never seem to. They always want more, more blood. The floor in basement has a hole in it, more of a pit really. I must keep it filled with bodies, or they will come for me. The voices say it is so, I must serve the pit or suffer. The last few years have been very difficult. Ever since the hole appeared, soon after my mother died. The hole appeared, and soon after that, I started hearing whispers, instructing me to do small and seemingly meaningless task. They told me to stake out certain houses, certain people that I had never meant. It seemed odd but I was so distracted by grief I went along with this new obligation. It has lead to the death of many, only to save the majority of the earth. Keep the hole fed and be blessed they tell me. So I stalk the innocent, I take them from the world to fill the hole.