- I'm tired and it's 3AM. I wanted to do more to this, but I really don't feel like it. If anything, please enjoy the story more than the skin. I changed up styles, which isn't a good idea anyways, but who cares. Credit to DragonsDungeon for being good at skinning. Welp, here's to another 25th place *sip* -

I highly recommend listening to Beethoven while reading this. It makes it less terrifying, and more artistic. I wrote it while listening, so I hope you do the same.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-fFHeTX70Q&


Another magnificent day, another magnificent morning, the Sun stretching across the horizon for the eyes to see. Miraculous, my dear Ada! How glorious is such an image, one of elegance, one of finesse, one of talent, as the Sun sets out across the sky, to once again grace the world with it's presence!

Freud smiles to himself. The optimistic man is a successful man, and he intends to be successful. He, and his daughter. Ach, if only Ella were here to see such a beautiful sight...

May, 1945
In a turn of events that would rewrite history, the first atomic bomb is used on the German city of Cologne, leveling the nearest 4 miles of civilization. Fraught with distress, the German High Command sends out a desperate raid on London, deep in the night. They successfully assassinate Winston Churchill, before sneaking back to Germany. Sadly, this provokes an even greater reaction from the Allied unison.

The music of Beethoven plays softly in the background. Dust on the wood trim, the window tainted with condensation from the night before, the silverware neatly set on the table. The house overlooks the grandeous valley, peering out upon the German countryside. As the morning Sun crests the hills far to the west, and as Freud looks upon them, a brilliant orangish light permeates his vision, searing his eyeballs to a crisp, his gay smile melted to a pulp, his mind sculpted into something new. Ada is burnt to ash while she plays in the fields below. Ah! How beautiful the Sun is this lovely morning! - Freud cries, the smell of flesh dancing in the air. My face seems to be out of place! Disorder is counter-intuitive, my dear self! - he proclaims, rushing inside to find some leather and a zipper.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZIP

Freud's smiling face is sealed away under the mask of leather. Unfortunately, he is unable to witness the beauty of the morning sun, as the tar slowly sinks his house in, but perhaps he feels it in his mind. Freud sets out to find the Sun again, in the wastelands of old Germany.

"Ah, a fellow traveler! How wonderful the Sun is, do you agree?!" he asks of a man on his last breath, staring down at the living corpse moments away from a painful death. Freud smiles as he breathes in the light of a soul. He quickly snaps back up and continues on his merry way.

Freud wanders for a few more months, in search of the Sun.

"Yet another traveler!" he speaks, upon meeting the first living being in eight months. The squirrel isn't exactly intrigued by the man. "How do you find the Sun? Brilliant, or fantastic? HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I jest. For of course, the Sun is RADIANT, my fellow traveler." Freud stomps on the squirrel as he continues to gleefully stroll around the barren fields of death and destruction.

Freud was shot by a French soldier three years later, on the Belgian border. It is said his last words spoke of the Sun.


Have a nice night.