On that solemn and soulless night, fate brought this broken wretch to the grounds of my home, Darkside Manor, a place they say, whose very heart bleeds darkness.

From the cracked windows of my laboratory I heard his anguished cries piercing the twilight sky, and hurried to his aid. Taking pity upon him, and sensing a degree of genius within his tortured soul, I offered him solace and sanctuary, in an old wooden cabin that sits in the dark woods that enclose my estate. In this solitude he has begun to confront his demons, and rid his mind of the poison that had all but consumed him.

Mr. Sul, however, took it much worse. His eyes became blinded by the monotonous flicker of the silver screen and the howling beauty of the billboards, his ears deafened by the symphony of a million screaming commercials. Put simply, the man descended into lunacy. In his bewildered state these everyday advertisments of happy people offering happy products, warped. Became ugly. Posters of smiling consumers morphed into banners of twisted monsters each relentlessly grasping for his soul. All truth became lies, all beauty became filth and all light became darkness. He stumbled screaming into the rain-soaked night, resting only when the glare of the city was far behind him.