11-20-2011, 06:35 AM
Warning: Graphic Scene. Don't read if sensitive.
A lonely human sat at a table in a dark house. If the flame above the candle was larger one would see the house was furnished for a family, even had pictures as evidence one indeed lived there. The man's beard had grown rugged, and his flannel shirt, and overalls were stained with dirt due to the work he did. He was an alchemist, and a fairly good one at that. He supported his family by making potions and other remedies. It was until they caught a disease he couldn't cure, everyone died besides him. He had never contracted the disease since he was at work. Now his nights were filled with drinking until he passed out so abruptly he woke up with confusion. He winced at every sip from the liquor but the burn soothed him, added to his inner fire of turmoil and regret. The rain was softly tapping on the wooden house, but the lightning was sporadic and radical. Rectangular stamps of light, with the shadow of the intersecting wooden frame were placed on the ground as light shone through the window for seconds before going dark again. After the silence returned, the thunder rumbled far in the distance. The human paid no mind looking to his glass before taking another sip.
He thought about his son, whom he wanted to teach to play stick ball, who he wanted to instruct on how to fight, how to pick up girls his age and how to be a man. His own upbringing was so focused on studies he never got to enjoy himself, until he had his family. He poured another glass half full, he was indeed an optimist. He picked the glass up, noticing the circle of condensation on the wood table where the drink was when he heard something in the back room fall over. The light flared through the house a silent warning. Drunk, curious and fearless he stood up, the thunder protested, advising against it. He pushed the chair back and walked into the dark hallway with his drink in hand. Two doors on his right, one on his left and another at the end of the hall. On his way to the end door he pushed the others open peeking his head into a veil of darkness. Thunder mumbling in the distance, yet coming closer.
In the dark eyes watched him, but he was unaware as he lumbered through the rooms searching for the noise. As he got to the last room he saw a window was open, lace curtains hauntingly waving like the arms of someone performing a Hawaiian dance. He grumpily closed the window, and finished the rest of his drink. He heard another noise, which caused him to quickly turn around. He was becoming paranoid, as he walked in the hallway he saw nothing but darkness; but as the lightning illuminated the house it carved into the shadow leaving a silhouette of a man standing before him. He was started and stepped back, as soon as the flash was over darkness filled the hall. He began to sweat as he knew the man was still there. Light flashed again, another appeared further behind him, in a cloak by the door. None of their features were distinguishable as they appeared to be literally made of shadow. The cloaked figure disappeared in green flames, but as the emerald embers slowly fell, its glow showed the features of the man before him. He was familiar, very familiar. The drunk human stood looking at himself, the man before him was identical to him. The only difference was their demeanor. The drunk man was slouched, and swaying for balance, his other was confident, standing strong with a furrowed brow. His eyes lacked pupils and were white as ivory. His lips began to spread across his face making a smile foreign to the drunken man, one of madness and hatred.
Like a mini-maelstrom color twisted in the whites of his eyes as the pupils formed, irises locking them into place. He blinked slowly. The lightning flooded the house again, as the other man raised a gnomish pistol to his drunk double and held it there. The drunken man stood in shock and bewilderment confused if he were dreaming or not, if he had finally died from too much alcohol or if the surreal had found him at the worst time. His attacker had the same clothes, same split ends, scars, and birthmarks, he stood silently holding the gun as the light disappeared leaving them in darkness. Thunder roared as if Titans were jumping in the clouds above them, it is when he pulled the trigger. The drunk man didn't hear it but he felt it enter and exit his body. He felt his intestines spilling out, and tried to catch them as he stumbled back sliding down into the corner. He bled quickly, he witnessed himself approaching, flickering in the lightning. He was there, then shadow, He was closer, then shadow. He finally stood before him, eyes white. The drunken man was convinced he was in a Nightmare. Thunder muffled the gunshot, the clouds mourned a sad soul.
A lonely human sat at a table in a dark house. If the flame above the candle was larger one would see the house was furnished for a family, even had pictures as evidence one indeed lived there. The man's beard had grown rugged, and his flannel shirt, and overalls were stained with dirt due to the work he did. He was an alchemist, and a fairly good one at that. He supported his family by making potions and other remedies. It was until they caught a disease he couldn't cure, everyone died besides him. He had never contracted the disease since he was at work. Now his nights were filled with drinking until he passed out so abruptly he woke up with confusion. He winced at every sip from the liquor but the burn soothed him, added to his inner fire of turmoil and regret. The rain was softly tapping on the wooden house, but the lightning was sporadic and radical. Rectangular stamps of light, with the shadow of the intersecting wooden frame were placed on the ground as light shone through the window for seconds before going dark again. After the silence returned, the thunder rumbled far in the distance. The human paid no mind looking to his glass before taking another sip.
He thought about his son, whom he wanted to teach to play stick ball, who he wanted to instruct on how to fight, how to pick up girls his age and how to be a man. His own upbringing was so focused on studies he never got to enjoy himself, until he had his family. He poured another glass half full, he was indeed an optimist. He picked the glass up, noticing the circle of condensation on the wood table where the drink was when he heard something in the back room fall over. The light flared through the house a silent warning. Drunk, curious and fearless he stood up, the thunder protested, advising against it. He pushed the chair back and walked into the dark hallway with his drink in hand. Two doors on his right, one on his left and another at the end of the hall. On his way to the end door he pushed the others open peeking his head into a veil of darkness. Thunder mumbling in the distance, yet coming closer.
In the dark eyes watched him, but he was unaware as he lumbered through the rooms searching for the noise. As he got to the last room he saw a window was open, lace curtains hauntingly waving like the arms of someone performing a Hawaiian dance. He grumpily closed the window, and finished the rest of his drink. He heard another noise, which caused him to quickly turn around. He was becoming paranoid, as he walked in the hallway he saw nothing but darkness; but as the lightning illuminated the house it carved into the shadow leaving a silhouette of a man standing before him. He was started and stepped back, as soon as the flash was over darkness filled the hall. He began to sweat as he knew the man was still there. Light flashed again, another appeared further behind him, in a cloak by the door. None of their features were distinguishable as they appeared to be literally made of shadow. The cloaked figure disappeared in green flames, but as the emerald embers slowly fell, its glow showed the features of the man before him. He was familiar, very familiar. The drunk human stood looking at himself, the man before him was identical to him. The only difference was their demeanor. The drunk man was slouched, and swaying for balance, his other was confident, standing strong with a furrowed brow. His eyes lacked pupils and were white as ivory. His lips began to spread across his face making a smile foreign to the drunken man, one of madness and hatred.
Like a mini-maelstrom color twisted in the whites of his eyes as the pupils formed, irises locking them into place. He blinked slowly. The lightning flooded the house again, as the other man raised a gnomish pistol to his drunk double and held it there. The drunken man stood in shock and bewilderment confused if he were dreaming or not, if he had finally died from too much alcohol or if the surreal had found him at the worst time. His attacker had the same clothes, same split ends, scars, and birthmarks, he stood silently holding the gun as the light disappeared leaving them in darkness. Thunder roared as if Titans were jumping in the clouds above them, it is when he pulled the trigger. The drunk man didn't hear it but he felt it enter and exit his body. He felt his intestines spilling out, and tried to catch them as he stumbled back sliding down into the corner. He bled quickly, he witnessed himself approaching, flickering in the lightning. He was there, then shadow, He was closer, then shadow. He finally stood before him, eyes white. The drunken man was convinced he was in a Nightmare. Thunder muffled the gunshot, the clouds mourned a sad soul.
The Family Tree
TheBook of ThePharaoh
Pharaoh's Colosseum
The Four Suns Inn
"What are we, as role-players, if not authors in real time?" - MrBubbles
"I've always treated Role-play as Collaborative Writing. Co-authoring the stories of your characters, alongside other people." - Flammos200
TheBook of ThePharaoh
Pharaoh's Colosseum
The Four Suns Inn
"What are we, as role-players, if not authors in real time?" - MrBubbles
"I've always treated Role-play as Collaborative Writing. Co-authoring the stories of your characters, alongside other people." - Flammos200