UnholyHoly
Problem!? Officer Where?
- Joined
- Mar 3, 2008
- Posts
- 1,506
Looking to start a story of sorts, if you're interested please PM me with charecter and intro. Thanks alot-Jay
The city shut off. Nighttime switched the lights off as the entire town was enveloped in a thick fog of blackness. Scurrying across the streets, doors slamming, and then everything stood still. Only a fool would walk the streets this late...during the Dark. The Dark controlled the lifes at night, each night taking in more innocent, unsuspecting victims who merely did not get inside on time. Safety and security ment nothing when the fog came, and mercy was never an option.
The silence of the city hung tenderly above the city, flowing into the streets and allys. Life and time stopped, only to be awakened by the morning sun. It never rose fast enough, all the citizens thought. Many people went missing during these times, and surely there would be more on this night. The straining silence seemed to make the city only darker, crushing any mood that had happened during the day. Hopelessness....timelessness....despair...the only adjectives individuals would use to describe The Dark.
Far on the western side of town, the side rich people (and even middle/lower class people) didn't dare enter. The Dark, to some, seemed to make West Seville brighter, while others said the gloomy mist came from that side of town. Noone knew, yet noone wanted to know. Certain things happened on that side of town during the Dark, as shown in The Slaughterhouse, a popular bar for miscreants and rapscallions. The sign shown in dulled neon, flickering on ocassion due to its old age. The inside pounded with music that everyone in the 'normal' part of the city considered "Satanic".
Blood gushes from the wound
The cut is wide and deep
And before I turn around
He falls to his knees
The music pounded and somewhat questionable lyrics filled the air, acompanied with the dank smell of old alcohol and cigarette smoke. On many occasion did bickering break out in the bar, as most people in Western Seville didn't trust anyone else. Amongst the orderly chaos of normals drinking and others playing cards, a slim figured sat in the corner with his hat drawn down.
With his black hat drawn over his eyes, he simply stared down into his drink. Sure he wasn't 21 yet, but 20's close enough. Plus, noone cared. He sat, sipping his drink under his hat, thinking of what was happening to the town. Decaying, rotting, and dying, he thought and chuckled, those ignorant bags of slime on the other side deserve this...His thoughts trailed off as his pocket vibrated. Slipping his hand down his jean pocket, he pulled out his ragged, black phone. A text from a friend Aye, we got sum sh1t 2 do were r u fag? He sighed and placed his phone back in his pocket. His leather jacket peeled slightly away from being stuck to the leather chair as he got up and slowly made his way towards the door.
He pushed open and walked into the cold, dark night. Going to his bike, he placed his helmet on his head and hopped on his bike. He gunned the ignition and sped off into the fog, continually thinking of what had to be done to liberate this town...
He finally reached his destination, the Warehouse. He sighed as he jumped off his bike and let the kickstand fall. He carried his helmet under his arm as he slipped into the warehouse as quietly as he could. He kind of lived here with one other, a girl whom he known almost all his life. They had both lost loved ones to this....plague or whatever the hell it was. They where going to figure out what was going on...where their friends where...and why it was here....
The city shut off. Nighttime switched the lights off as the entire town was enveloped in a thick fog of blackness. Scurrying across the streets, doors slamming, and then everything stood still. Only a fool would walk the streets this late...during the Dark. The Dark controlled the lifes at night, each night taking in more innocent, unsuspecting victims who merely did not get inside on time. Safety and security ment nothing when the fog came, and mercy was never an option.
The silence of the city hung tenderly above the city, flowing into the streets and allys. Life and time stopped, only to be awakened by the morning sun. It never rose fast enough, all the citizens thought. Many people went missing during these times, and surely there would be more on this night. The straining silence seemed to make the city only darker, crushing any mood that had happened during the day. Hopelessness....timelessness....despair...the only adjectives individuals would use to describe The Dark.
Far on the western side of town, the side rich people (and even middle/lower class people) didn't dare enter. The Dark, to some, seemed to make West Seville brighter, while others said the gloomy mist came from that side of town. Noone knew, yet noone wanted to know. Certain things happened on that side of town during the Dark, as shown in The Slaughterhouse, a popular bar for miscreants and rapscallions. The sign shown in dulled neon, flickering on ocassion due to its old age. The inside pounded with music that everyone in the 'normal' part of the city considered "Satanic".
Blood gushes from the wound
The cut is wide and deep
And before I turn around
He falls to his knees
The music pounded and somewhat questionable lyrics filled the air, acompanied with the dank smell of old alcohol and cigarette smoke. On many occasion did bickering break out in the bar, as most people in Western Seville didn't trust anyone else. Amongst the orderly chaos of normals drinking and others playing cards, a slim figured sat in the corner with his hat drawn down.
With his black hat drawn over his eyes, he simply stared down into his drink. Sure he wasn't 21 yet, but 20's close enough. Plus, noone cared. He sat, sipping his drink under his hat, thinking of what was happening to the town. Decaying, rotting, and dying, he thought and chuckled, those ignorant bags of slime on the other side deserve this...His thoughts trailed off as his pocket vibrated. Slipping his hand down his jean pocket, he pulled out his ragged, black phone. A text from a friend Aye, we got sum sh1t 2 do were r u fag? He sighed and placed his phone back in his pocket. His leather jacket peeled slightly away from being stuck to the leather chair as he got up and slowly made his way towards the door.
He pushed open and walked into the cold, dark night. Going to his bike, he placed his helmet on his head and hopped on his bike. He gunned the ignition and sped off into the fog, continually thinking of what had to be done to liberate this town...
He finally reached his destination, the Warehouse. He sighed as he jumped off his bike and let the kickstand fall. He carried his helmet under his arm as he slipped into the warehouse as quietly as he could. He kind of lived here with one other, a girl whom he known almost all his life. They had both lost loved ones to this....plague or whatever the hell it was. They where going to figure out what was going on...where their friends where...and why it was here....
