Post by Katerinu on Oct 6, 2006 18:41:49 GMT -5
Okay, this is just simply a story I was writing. It's not finished yet, it's just an intro. (Blame Evanescence for the violence. Lol.) I would really appreaciate your opinion and comments, they're always helpful to make my writing better! Arigato! ;D
[shadow=blue,left,300]“Roar!”
The screaming of barks and growls suddenly started up, bouncing around, echoing and breaking the sudden silence.
Paws scampered and dance, almost playfully, in rhythm, tapping against the slippery ice and snow. Fur bristled, hackles raised and snarling escaping from behind pearly canines. Chomping down on air, trying to grab at least a bit of flesh.
A flash of blacks and brown, twisting and twirling in the winter wonderland of snow around them, the dead tree’s swaying their branches eerily in the harsh breeze, bringing with it particles of drifting snow.
Suddenly, a deathly sound of flesh tearing and bones twisting sounded, and red goop splashed, a bright unnatural color against the snow. Pearly whites stained with the color of death and murder. The brown and black wolf tumbled back as the black brute opened his maw, slowly, retreating his canines from his bloody wound. He stumbled backwards, barely able to stand, blood dripping and staining his coat and the white, snowy ground.
The black brute chuckled, raising his blood stained maw, hackles raised to give a sly wolf smirk. “It’s what you deserve, little angel of death.”
The wounded brutes’ muscles rose higher, tightening, his build growing under his bristling and shaking fur. His icy blue eyes widened his brow tightening and flashing anger. His pupil was barley visible in the pool of cold ice, shimmering with all emotions of hatred and sorrow splashing together. An entire void of their own that was lost to an infinite eternity.
The black male was alarmed at his sudden regain of control. What did he react too? He thought, trying to understand this sudden burst of energy. Was it little death angel?
The wounded wolf leapt forward at an alarming speed, the bone in leg shattering ever more from the sudden jump, the alarming crack bursting loudly into the air.
How did he…?
Blood again splattered onto the ground, and there was a sudden silence. Not a word, not a single action or movement. Time seemed to stop, stand still for that split second.
Eternal silence.
Hanging limp from his maw, his canines deep into his life vein, which had been pulsing, bubbling and alive just moments before in his throat. The brute’s muscles began to twitch, the normal and sudden reaction to pain and death, and his eyes widened ever farther, the yellow optics finally rolling back, seeping into the white, crystal emptiness, and the frantic flinching had stopped.
The brown brute sat the victim down slowly, letting him slip slowly onto the ice. As he removed his teeth from the wound, blood spattered out like a fountain, draining and drowning the snow in a blanket of warm goop.
He let himself slip back, the pain in his leg suddenly bursting in trembling waves all over his body, and he gave a roar of pain, falling back onto his side. He gave heavy pants, growling and snarling at the pain that was drowning his being. His hind legs began to twitch insanely, his ears bouncing up and down on his cranium, the light and fluffy fur trembling with the pain. He roared louder, squeezing his icy optics shut, escaping the world for a single moment, retiring to the comforting darkness behind his eyelids.
He would not shed a tear. Not a single one. He would take the pain, he would ignore the pain, and he would fight the pain.
His roars of anguish began to silence himself, his twitching beginning to stop as he felt himself slip into a milky white unconsciousness.
NO!
He started up his roaring again, trying to keep himself awake, not wanting to die. Not yet… Laika...
But what was the point? His mind began to lash and cry out at his existence. There’s no point! Everybody hates you! You are an angel of death! Of darkness!
There is no love in your world!
His body stopped it’s squirms for survival, his muscles relaxing and the fur lying silently back onto his warm frame. His eyes shut slowly; orbs’ rolling back into the soft state of white… this was peace.
What is peace?
His eyes opened back up, half lidded, the emotionless look swimming about in the shimmering ice.
What is love?
His muscles began to twitch and bubble again with life as he forced himself to stand. The bone began to crack again under his weight, and he flinched, but pulled himself back together. He looked down, seeing his reflection staring back at him. His foreboding form hovering above him, eyes staring emotionlessly back at his self, only a deep shade of blue.
He blinked his optics, their true color the icy, harsh blue, but deformed and tinted in the pool of blood beneath him, that had escaped his own wounds.
He raised his eyes, wolfish brows rising, as if questioning the actual existence of his own blood.
Is there pain involved?
With the inability to keep himself steady, he sat on his back haunches, his right fore leg motionless, and pain shot through him again.
He gave no reaction, but stared uncaring at the broken and wounded leg.
He raised himself again, limping over towards the dead carcass of a standing tree, trying to become one with it’s unconscious brethren, but failing miserably at it’s blackened bark.
Even the snow won’t accept you.
Tripping and stumbling forward, he kept himself steady, padding towards it, his face in that strange, emotionless stare, his feature plainly written, and yet complex all the same. As he stumbled on, a voice called out to him in the back of his mind.
Peace is non existent.
And he heard some part of him answer back, It is?
Yes. There is no such thing as love either.
Are you sure?
Only some believe it.
Can they feel it?
They believe they can.
Is it…is there pain involved?
Massive quantities of it.
I don’t want to hurt.
I know…
Leaning against the charcoal tree, he gave a soft pant, a cloud of humid air freezing in the frigid air. He turned his head around to glimpse the carcass of the dead wolf, half opening his cold eyes in that bored manner.
“It’s what you deserve, murderer.”
Murderer…
[/shadow]
The screaming of barks and growls suddenly started up, bouncing around, echoing and breaking the sudden silence.
Paws scampered and dance, almost playfully, in rhythm, tapping against the slippery ice and snow. Fur bristled, hackles raised and snarling escaping from behind pearly canines. Chomping down on air, trying to grab at least a bit of flesh.
A flash of blacks and brown, twisting and twirling in the winter wonderland of snow around them, the dead tree’s swaying their branches eerily in the harsh breeze, bringing with it particles of drifting snow.
Suddenly, a deathly sound of flesh tearing and bones twisting sounded, and red goop splashed, a bright unnatural color against the snow. Pearly whites stained with the color of death and murder. The brown and black wolf tumbled back as the black brute opened his maw, slowly, retreating his canines from his bloody wound. He stumbled backwards, barely able to stand, blood dripping and staining his coat and the white, snowy ground.
The black brute chuckled, raising his blood stained maw, hackles raised to give a sly wolf smirk. “It’s what you deserve, little angel of death.”
The wounded brutes’ muscles rose higher, tightening, his build growing under his bristling and shaking fur. His icy blue eyes widened his brow tightening and flashing anger. His pupil was barley visible in the pool of cold ice, shimmering with all emotions of hatred and sorrow splashing together. An entire void of their own that was lost to an infinite eternity.
The black male was alarmed at his sudden regain of control. What did he react too? He thought, trying to understand this sudden burst of energy. Was it little death angel?
The wounded wolf leapt forward at an alarming speed, the bone in leg shattering ever more from the sudden jump, the alarming crack bursting loudly into the air.
How did he…?
Blood again splattered onto the ground, and there was a sudden silence. Not a word, not a single action or movement. Time seemed to stop, stand still for that split second.
Eternal silence.
Hanging limp from his maw, his canines deep into his life vein, which had been pulsing, bubbling and alive just moments before in his throat. The brute’s muscles began to twitch, the normal and sudden reaction to pain and death, and his eyes widened ever farther, the yellow optics finally rolling back, seeping into the white, crystal emptiness, and the frantic flinching had stopped.
The brown brute sat the victim down slowly, letting him slip slowly onto the ice. As he removed his teeth from the wound, blood spattered out like a fountain, draining and drowning the snow in a blanket of warm goop.
He let himself slip back, the pain in his leg suddenly bursting in trembling waves all over his body, and he gave a roar of pain, falling back onto his side. He gave heavy pants, growling and snarling at the pain that was drowning his being. His hind legs began to twitch insanely, his ears bouncing up and down on his cranium, the light and fluffy fur trembling with the pain. He roared louder, squeezing his icy optics shut, escaping the world for a single moment, retiring to the comforting darkness behind his eyelids.
He would not shed a tear. Not a single one. He would take the pain, he would ignore the pain, and he would fight the pain.
His roars of anguish began to silence himself, his twitching beginning to stop as he felt himself slip into a milky white unconsciousness.
NO!
He started up his roaring again, trying to keep himself awake, not wanting to die. Not yet… Laika...
But what was the point? His mind began to lash and cry out at his existence. There’s no point! Everybody hates you! You are an angel of death! Of darkness!
There is no love in your world!
His body stopped it’s squirms for survival, his muscles relaxing and the fur lying silently back onto his warm frame. His eyes shut slowly; orbs’ rolling back into the soft state of white… this was peace.
What is peace?
His eyes opened back up, half lidded, the emotionless look swimming about in the shimmering ice.
What is love?
His muscles began to twitch and bubble again with life as he forced himself to stand. The bone began to crack again under his weight, and he flinched, but pulled himself back together. He looked down, seeing his reflection staring back at him. His foreboding form hovering above him, eyes staring emotionlessly back at his self, only a deep shade of blue.
He blinked his optics, their true color the icy, harsh blue, but deformed and tinted in the pool of blood beneath him, that had escaped his own wounds.
He raised his eyes, wolfish brows rising, as if questioning the actual existence of his own blood.
Is there pain involved?
With the inability to keep himself steady, he sat on his back haunches, his right fore leg motionless, and pain shot through him again.
He gave no reaction, but stared uncaring at the broken and wounded leg.
He raised himself again, limping over towards the dead carcass of a standing tree, trying to become one with it’s unconscious brethren, but failing miserably at it’s blackened bark.
Even the snow won’t accept you.
Tripping and stumbling forward, he kept himself steady, padding towards it, his face in that strange, emotionless stare, his feature plainly written, and yet complex all the same. As he stumbled on, a voice called out to him in the back of his mind.
Peace is non existent.
And he heard some part of him answer back, It is?
Yes. There is no such thing as love either.
Are you sure?
Only some believe it.
Can they feel it?
They believe they can.
Is it…is there pain involved?
Massive quantities of it.
I don’t want to hurt.
I know…
Leaning against the charcoal tree, he gave a soft pant, a cloud of humid air freezing in the frigid air. He turned his head around to glimpse the carcass of the dead wolf, half opening his cold eyes in that bored manner.
“It’s what you deserve, murderer.”
Murderer…
[/shadow]
