Post by DigiDice on Jul 12, 2012 18:06:03 GMT -5
hay guys this is a prevue of a story i've been working on and i would like to hear your opinion on it
Pestilence sat quietly in the corner gazing at the body, lying on the floor burns surrounded the mans neck s if acid had been dumped down his front, and though he couldn’t see it the young adolescent knew that poison lined the corpse’s veins where blood once flowed. “I can’t believe I did it again,” not that this creation didn’t disserve this kind of harsh end, he thought coldly. He couldn’t help but remember when he first got this horrible power of his, and the nightmarish past that went with it ; a cold shudder ran down his spine like ice caught in a landslide as he fought back the tears which threatening to pour from his eyes like a busted dam brought to the surface by the painful memories of that fateful day. Finally after the several minutes it took him to regain his typical cool demeanor the young man spoke “I guess I should at least make an attempt to hide the body,” he let out a sigh as he dragged the body by the wrists to the closet; as soon as his cold hands made contact with the dead man’s skin chemical burns began to form at the point of contact then like deadly pythons began to snake down his arms. By the time he reached the closet with his rag doll like burden the arms of the corpse where riddled and burned beyond recognition now matching the burns on the mans neck. Quickly, Pestilence stashed the body in the small confines of the closet before walking out the door whistling a marry tune as if nothing at all had happened.
One Week Ago
A thin teenager stood string at his reflection in a shop window, his fluorescent green eyes staring back at him reflecting brightly in the windows surface. He felt the ice cold rain chill him to the very core and his weight T-shirt and torn up jeans did little to keep him warm and dry in such harsh elements. His normally shaggy black hair stuck to his forehead and neck if glued in place. He let out a sigh and grinned at his reflection , his pointy teeth poking his lower lip; his pail skin seemed almost see through in the torrent of water that washed over the city. “Pestilence, what a fitting name” he mumbled under his breath before turning away from his reflection and in to one of the dark alley ways of New York that he called home.
He walked for almost 5 minutes in the labyrinth of back alleys before finally settling in to a hollow point in a wall which barely sheltered him from the pouring rain. Slowly yet surely he fell deeply into a well needed rest. In his slumber his memories raced back to him like a relentless predator the hunt for blood. The sky was overcast with dark forewarning clouds the day the men in dark suits came for him. He was forced in to a black 4 door sedan where is face was quickly greeted with a rag soaked in chloroform, before he even had time to scream he was out cold. Hours latter he awoke to shirtless, chained to the wall of a dark laboratory, the numbers 01 where branded on his right shoulder along with the word Pestilence vertically printed down his forearm. Moments after he had awoken a small group of scientists came in, without a word they began injecting him with strange chemicals and running excruciating test after test. This went on for a full 6 years with very little change, the only change was over the first few weeks 3 more kids arrived at the lab they clearly received the same harsh treatment as they to where numbered and labeled and what really caught the young boy’s attention was the fact that those researchers working with him began to where hazmat suits and where very careful not to make contact with his skin. As time passed he grew used to the harsh treatment and had developed a high pain tolerance do to their so called “tests”, most of which would make grown man wish for death. Slowly his body altered do to a chemical beeptail of hormones and the toxins witch now ran through his veins naturally as a result of mutations; first his skin paled then his teeth sharpened to fine points like that of an animal, then finally his eyes gained an eerie florescent green glow. At night the 4 children where locked in a room hardly large enough to fit them all. Over the years the young boy came to recognize the other 3 as family. The 4 came to know each other not by the names given to them at there birth but by the words forever branded on to there right arms. One was a fiery red headed girl with an athletes build her eyes glowed an angry red and she was known by the others for her short temper, on her right shoulder the numbers 02 showed clearly and the word War witch climbed down her forearm fit her to a T. Next was a quite boy with thin black hair witch hung down in front of his white glowing empty eyes, a twisted grin seamed to be engraved upon his face as if he was constantly planning something and up to no good, the numbers 04 where etched on his shoulder and the word that struck fear in most harts inscribed down his arm . . . Death. Finally there was a a blond haired girl with shining blue eyes, she had a very slim figure no matter how much she ate which was typically more than everyone else as they would give her most of there rations because she was the only one who could stomach the garbage they where given as meals, on her right shoulder sat forever inscribed the numbers 03 and written down her forearm was the word Famine, the word which she shamelessly took as her name. Though the boy resented the name he was given he grew to except it . . . Pestilence.
To be continued
Pestilence sat quietly in the corner gazing at the body, lying on the floor burns surrounded the mans neck s if acid had been dumped down his front, and though he couldn’t see it the young adolescent knew that poison lined the corpse’s veins where blood once flowed. “I can’t believe I did it again,” not that this creation didn’t disserve this kind of harsh end, he thought coldly. He couldn’t help but remember when he first got this horrible power of his, and the nightmarish past that went with it ; a cold shudder ran down his spine like ice caught in a landslide as he fought back the tears which threatening to pour from his eyes like a busted dam brought to the surface by the painful memories of that fateful day. Finally after the several minutes it took him to regain his typical cool demeanor the young man spoke “I guess I should at least make an attempt to hide the body,” he let out a sigh as he dragged the body by the wrists to the closet; as soon as his cold hands made contact with the dead man’s skin chemical burns began to form at the point of contact then like deadly pythons began to snake down his arms. By the time he reached the closet with his rag doll like burden the arms of the corpse where riddled and burned beyond recognition now matching the burns on the mans neck. Quickly, Pestilence stashed the body in the small confines of the closet before walking out the door whistling a marry tune as if nothing at all had happened.
One Week Ago
A thin teenager stood string at his reflection in a shop window, his fluorescent green eyes staring back at him reflecting brightly in the windows surface. He felt the ice cold rain chill him to the very core and his weight T-shirt and torn up jeans did little to keep him warm and dry in such harsh elements. His normally shaggy black hair stuck to his forehead and neck if glued in place. He let out a sigh and grinned at his reflection , his pointy teeth poking his lower lip; his pail skin seemed almost see through in the torrent of water that washed over the city. “Pestilence, what a fitting name” he mumbled under his breath before turning away from his reflection and in to one of the dark alley ways of New York that he called home.
He walked for almost 5 minutes in the labyrinth of back alleys before finally settling in to a hollow point in a wall which barely sheltered him from the pouring rain. Slowly yet surely he fell deeply into a well needed rest. In his slumber his memories raced back to him like a relentless predator the hunt for blood. The sky was overcast with dark forewarning clouds the day the men in dark suits came for him. He was forced in to a black 4 door sedan where is face was quickly greeted with a rag soaked in chloroform, before he even had time to scream he was out cold. Hours latter he awoke to shirtless, chained to the wall of a dark laboratory, the numbers 01 where branded on his right shoulder along with the word Pestilence vertically printed down his forearm. Moments after he had awoken a small group of scientists came in, without a word they began injecting him with strange chemicals and running excruciating test after test. This went on for a full 6 years with very little change, the only change was over the first few weeks 3 more kids arrived at the lab they clearly received the same harsh treatment as they to where numbered and labeled and what really caught the young boy’s attention was the fact that those researchers working with him began to where hazmat suits and where very careful not to make contact with his skin. As time passed he grew used to the harsh treatment and had developed a high pain tolerance do to their so called “tests”, most of which would make grown man wish for death. Slowly his body altered do to a chemical beeptail of hormones and the toxins witch now ran through his veins naturally as a result of mutations; first his skin paled then his teeth sharpened to fine points like that of an animal, then finally his eyes gained an eerie florescent green glow. At night the 4 children where locked in a room hardly large enough to fit them all. Over the years the young boy came to recognize the other 3 as family. The 4 came to know each other not by the names given to them at there birth but by the words forever branded on to there right arms. One was a fiery red headed girl with an athletes build her eyes glowed an angry red and she was known by the others for her short temper, on her right shoulder the numbers 02 showed clearly and the word War witch climbed down her forearm fit her to a T. Next was a quite boy with thin black hair witch hung down in front of his white glowing empty eyes, a twisted grin seamed to be engraved upon his face as if he was constantly planning something and up to no good, the numbers 04 where etched on his shoulder and the word that struck fear in most harts inscribed down his arm . . . Death. Finally there was a a blond haired girl with shining blue eyes, she had a very slim figure no matter how much she ate which was typically more than everyone else as they would give her most of there rations because she was the only one who could stomach the garbage they where given as meals, on her right shoulder sat forever inscribed the numbers 03 and written down her forearm was the word Famine, the word which she shamelessly took as her name. Though the boy resented the name he was given he grew to except it . . . Pestilence.
To be continued
