StingDJ9
10-06-2008, 04:17 AM
lemme know what you guys think...might post more stuff/continue the story if you guys like it. Enjoy :)
The Crow
He walked, head down, eyes down. His walk was more of a shamble, a limp like that of a stray dog that had been kicked around too much. Stale tears encircled his blood-encrusted eyes, creating mystical halos around the palette of deep blues and blacks that overran his face. He had been beaten, humiliated in front of strangers, and the ominous swirl of anonymous faces just multiplied his hurt. He was no stranger to pain – quite the opposite in fact. It seemed to be his trademark from birth, ever since his mother had christened him Payne. A strange name, he knew, not like that of the kids he played with. But it was his name, and he was quite fond of it. It had an omnipotent feel to it, like that of a Roman deity. Payne – God of suffering and all things disastrous. However, at present, his mind was far from the magical nature of his name. He focused on the pain, the intense, screaming pain that ripped at his skin and gnawed on his nerves. He wanted the artificial bliss that only the Sanctuary could give him, but he knew that he could not go back there – it was forbidden, and this knowledge tore a new hole in his body, opened up another level of pain.
“Screw the Sanctuary,” he muttered to himself. “Screw it and all of the Sentinels in it.” He limped down the forsaken alley. A caged light flickered above the heavy rust-covered door. But before Payne could reach the door, he sensed an imperceptible shift in the air around him. The wind was no longer blowing, and the thunderous generators in the factory were silent. The atmosphere was suspended in a dreamlike state, where he could not tell left from right, nor up from down.
“That’s odd,” Payne grumbled, noting the oil-black crow that had perched itself upon a clothesline. He had seen that crow before, he thought. He was certain of it. The intensity of the crow’s blackness had burned a portrait of it into Payne’s retinas. The alley whimpered. Payne tensed his muscles, eyes surveying the alley. The light wavered in its prison. Suddenly, a hooded man emerged from the pregnant dark, hands concealed under his shadowy robe like that of a monk in prayer. Payne crouched and brought up his fists. Just another lowlife mugger, he thought.
“A mugger, hah! Give me some credit boy,” the figure snapped. “Do you think I would be standing here in front of you if I wanted what little money you have?”
Payne recoiled at his words. His thoughts were in turmoil. Who was this? What did he want? It was as if he had just…
“Read your mind. Yes. Bravo boy, you do catch on quick. Although I did not read your mind as much as I skimmed through it. You see, there wasn’t much there for me to read.” The man floated towards Payne, crow on his shoulder now.
Payne wanted to hit him. He wanted to give this man a taste of what he was feeling – share with him some of the delicious pain that he had stored in abundance. But Payne could not move. Gravity had amplified and filled his veins with lead. He was buried in the sands of the unknown, and these sands bound his body.
“It is called mental dominance my boy. Maybe I will pass this trick onto you one day.” The light melted in its cage, leaving only a blinding darkness. “I am Priest,” his voice echoed. “I have been watching you boy. And I must say, you have enormous potential.” The crow ruffled its feathers and Priest let out a wicked cackle. The blackness was everything.
The Crow
He walked, head down, eyes down. His walk was more of a shamble, a limp like that of a stray dog that had been kicked around too much. Stale tears encircled his blood-encrusted eyes, creating mystical halos around the palette of deep blues and blacks that overran his face. He had been beaten, humiliated in front of strangers, and the ominous swirl of anonymous faces just multiplied his hurt. He was no stranger to pain – quite the opposite in fact. It seemed to be his trademark from birth, ever since his mother had christened him Payne. A strange name, he knew, not like that of the kids he played with. But it was his name, and he was quite fond of it. It had an omnipotent feel to it, like that of a Roman deity. Payne – God of suffering and all things disastrous. However, at present, his mind was far from the magical nature of his name. He focused on the pain, the intense, screaming pain that ripped at his skin and gnawed on his nerves. He wanted the artificial bliss that only the Sanctuary could give him, but he knew that he could not go back there – it was forbidden, and this knowledge tore a new hole in his body, opened up another level of pain.
“Screw the Sanctuary,” he muttered to himself. “Screw it and all of the Sentinels in it.” He limped down the forsaken alley. A caged light flickered above the heavy rust-covered door. But before Payne could reach the door, he sensed an imperceptible shift in the air around him. The wind was no longer blowing, and the thunderous generators in the factory were silent. The atmosphere was suspended in a dreamlike state, where he could not tell left from right, nor up from down.
“That’s odd,” Payne grumbled, noting the oil-black crow that had perched itself upon a clothesline. He had seen that crow before, he thought. He was certain of it. The intensity of the crow’s blackness had burned a portrait of it into Payne’s retinas. The alley whimpered. Payne tensed his muscles, eyes surveying the alley. The light wavered in its prison. Suddenly, a hooded man emerged from the pregnant dark, hands concealed under his shadowy robe like that of a monk in prayer. Payne crouched and brought up his fists. Just another lowlife mugger, he thought.
“A mugger, hah! Give me some credit boy,” the figure snapped. “Do you think I would be standing here in front of you if I wanted what little money you have?”
Payne recoiled at his words. His thoughts were in turmoil. Who was this? What did he want? It was as if he had just…
“Read your mind. Yes. Bravo boy, you do catch on quick. Although I did not read your mind as much as I skimmed through it. You see, there wasn’t much there for me to read.” The man floated towards Payne, crow on his shoulder now.
Payne wanted to hit him. He wanted to give this man a taste of what he was feeling – share with him some of the delicious pain that he had stored in abundance. But Payne could not move. Gravity had amplified and filled his veins with lead. He was buried in the sands of the unknown, and these sands bound his body.
“It is called mental dominance my boy. Maybe I will pass this trick onto you one day.” The light melted in its cage, leaving only a blinding darkness. “I am Priest,” his voice echoed. “I have been watching you boy. And I must say, you have enormous potential.” The crow ruffled its feathers and Priest let out a wicked cackle. The blackness was everything.