They called me the Leather Apron
They called me the smiling Jack
((LMFAO, I am a nitemare dear. You could never compare to me.))
Across a desolate part of the area where the Nightmaratic Tavern sat came a sudden gust of wind, which was quickly followed up by a huge sandstorm, but the sandstorm was the least of the worries, it was what the sand storm contained that would be crucial. As winds kicked up to speeds of over 100 miles per hour, they would start to twist and mold, the sand a very distinct and intricate blood red color. Soon the sand storm slammed into the front of the inn with a huge force as it swarmed around the inn itself, seeping through whatever cracks it could as sand would start to pour into it.
The calm after the storm: It had finally stopped, but the inside of the inn was covered in sand, but it had all gathered directly in the middle of the bar room entrance as it was spread across the floor. Soon it would start to come together, building over each other in small amounts as it would soon flow from the ceiling down to the floor and flow from the floor up to the ceiling, meeting half way. A figure would start to form out of this sand, the appearance on the outside a mere shell of existence as this being came to be. The blood red sand soon ceased to be seen as a dark blood red figure stood before whoever was in the room itself. The Blood Red Sandman had returned.
They prayed to the heavens above
That I would never ever come back