Lights, cheesy music, bells ringing from games left and right, if only they knew there would be no winners tonight.  It was nearly dusk and the new carnival Mortem had just arrived for its week long visit.  The little town of Heaven was alive with the laughter as everyone lined up for the gates to open and the fun to begin.  The old clock tower chimes echoed throughout the town and the gates creaked open allowing very an eager horde of people inside.  Lights were everywhere, games and prizes were around every corner, clowns and workers in costumes of every color.  Behind the laughter and lights, tucked away amongst the shadows was a man who had spent his life plotting his revenge.  Letting his anger and hatred fester inside of him a perfect plan for murder had laid its path and it was time to let it unfold and unleash it upon his unknowing victims. 
As the old rusted clock chimes for the final time that night the gate slam close locking the residents of Heaven inside its iron grasp, caging them like the vermin they are.  The lights go out, rides lock in place, and the only sound that can be heard are the final chimes of the old clock tower that had stopped working long ago.  Maniacal laughter could be heard over the deafening silence that had filled the air.  An older looking gentleman, features worn with the age of time, materialized from the shadows coming into view for the first time that night.  His black robes clung to him, seeming as though he was made of the dark material itself and as it cascaded down his thin frame it faded into the shadows beneath his feet.  “I am Morto” his deep, eerie voice sent chills down the spines of all who listened.  “For centuries you have lived in you little Heaven, ignoring your fears, your ruler, festering verman that you are! You have no right to live among this place, to call yourselves human, PATHETIC!  Now you will all pay the price for your ignorance.”  with that he melted back into the shadows from where he came.  When all was silent once again panic set in and anyone who was not trapped in a ride flooded the gates.  They were yelling and pulling at the gates but it was of no use, the thick, black iron held strong, they were trapped.  That was were they stood as the shadows descended upon them, swallowing them whole into the empty void they were doomed to dwell in for all eternity.  Their blood ran thick as it coated the pavement, spewing across it like red wine being poured into a sparkling crystal glass. Allowing it to fill his bottle, Morto places a delicate cork in the top to seal the vibrant red liquid inside. 
He walked back towards the other end of the “carnival” whistling  Pharrell Williams “Happy”, stopping only when he reached an old wooden door in the side of the fun house.  Stepping through the old wooden door, Morto carefully made his way down the stone staircase that was on the other side, keeping a tight hold on his bottle as he made his descent.  Making the final curve in the stairs and stepping off the last step Morto walked to the opening of his cellar.  The ageing stone walls curved in on themselves leaving jagged edges all over their once smooth surface making it look more like a cave than a cellar.  Running his hand over the rough walls as he went he could feel the scars of the past with each new bump and crevices his hand passed over.  It would be a long walk before Morto reached his destination but not as long as the one his trapped souls would have to walk, leaving them lost and wandering till the end of time. 
The long ever winding hallway was only dimly lit by a few century old torches letting the shadows dance on the walls each time one flickered.  Morto knew he was getting close to his destination as the air grew heavy and cold and the familiar crunch of bones breaking beneath his feet echoed as he turned down one of the next corridor, reminding him of all the joys of his past.  Smiling slightly as the joyous sound filled the empty space around him Morto kept up his pace never once looking to see if he was going the right way.  There really was no need to, he had walked that very same path thousands of times over the centuries and after the first hundred it seemed like second nature.  Only when he reached the end of the hallway did Morto bother to look at what was in front of him.  There, just a few steps away, was the black, rusting door he had been looking for.  It creaked as he opened it, screeching as though it was in agony from the slight movement.  Quickly stepping inside, Morto allowed the door to close itself as he searched for the small metal key that hung from a string around a rusted nail lodged in the frame of the door. 
Finding what he was looking for Morto took the key and went over to the chains that held two closet doors close.  With the chains unlocked and removed he was able to open the doors revealing a least a hundred other bottles like the one he was holding.  Carefully placing the bottle in the only empty spot left, he looked over the others as though they were pictures in a scrapbook and he was remembering where everyone of them was taken just with a single glance.  Closing the doors, Morto placed the chains back in its place and locked it once again before walking back to the door.
As he walked out, Morto glanced back at his favorite room and smiled.  Every wall was covered in chained cabinets with no space inbetween them and each one contained the same amount of bottles going back to where it all began.  Walking back down his poorly lit hallways and corridors Morto again began whistling “Happy” as the sweet symphony of screams filled the air and echoed all around him.