A couple...

Discussion in 'The Artist's Corner' started by Mustard, Oct 18, 2004.

  1. ...short stories I wrote. Well, I guess you could call them stories. The last one was inspired by a dream a friend of mine had. Infact, it was supposed to be about the dream. Until something in my mind saw opertunity for something else. The first was inspired by my disregard for myself in the name of hope. But both were written while I was in a volatile mood; obviously.

    To truely kill a man you must first murder his Hope. That way he won't be foolish enough to think he can survive the bullet chambered in the gun firmly pressed to his head. The perfect way to do this is to let the man know you did clean your gun. Which means there is little, to no chance of a misfire. The end result is a man stripped of everything. A man, killed before the trigger is even pulled. Those final seconds are for enjoyment purposes only. Presenting the atomosphere with the sweet pungent smell of fear. Soon after with a graceful pull of the trigger; the hammer rears back then slams on the pin; silently the slug spirals down the barrel until it's explosive exit. With this the body falls and the blood pools. The only thing left to do is lick your lips clean of the blood that blankets them. Please, stop and savor the fruits of your labor. Stop and taste your hate.



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    I stand unconcerned until a silhouette runs aimlessly past. I can feel it's heart beating rapidly. The pulse, so intense, it's shaking the ground below my feet and rattling the bones in my body. It's racing so fast it makes me dizzy and almost too weak to stand. The shrouded figure is trying to escape from an unknown persuer. Something is definatly wrong, the shadow is coming back. It looks confused and about to collapse as it looks to it's left. Then looks to it's right and bows it's head. I can see the figures ambition sink from it's body into the ground as time passes. This strongly anchores the nameless shadow to the earth, making it harder to run, while leaving it vunerable to whatever gives chase. By now the thumping in the sole of my shoe is becoming more irregular and is now echoing in my ears. Thump-Thump...Thump...Thump...Thump-Thump...Thump. The figure continues on with a desperate sprint in an unsure direction. As the specter passes through the light laid down by the moon, the night's disguise is lifted to reveal a girl. For a brief second I see her face. Though dim, despair was apparent. With this I shift further into the shadows and watch her run. I follow until suddenly her heart stops. I never felt or heard it again after that night. However I still see her running around at night from time to time. Still unaware of me in the shadows--watching. I always follow her until she disappears at the place I killed my first love.
     

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