Devault
December 21st, 2008, 10:32 PM
Summary/other things
Here's the rundown on the story so far -
It's going to have its very graphic moments, as well as its normal moments. If you're easily freaked out by reading about blood, go ahead and stop... There's only two violent scenes so far though, so they're not every five seconds and such. Another thing, there is also a not so kid friendly version of this I got convinced into writing, so if you really care that much,I'll shoot it off in an email or something. And yes, this is the clean version, just to make that clear ^.^
I'm also working on come concept art for it, and so far I've only got a reference sheet for Leena uploaded, and she's not even the main character xP
And also, I'm sorry if the writing at the beginning is horrible, I tend to get better after a few months of writing*
And without further ado, I give you... The prologue!
Prologue
I did it. That’s all there is to it. There’s no other choice, right? When faced with decisions like mine, people usually lose their minds and panic. But did I? No, of course I didn’t, I kept my calm through all of this. And it might spare me my life for a few days. I know it’s coming for me, whether I want it to or not, so I might as well let you know what’s happened so far.
I did it. If somebody else is blamed for my crime, then the innocent will be proven guilty without a shred of supportive evidence. All the evidence needed to convict somebody is in the media. They are watching, constantly watching me. Watching us make mistakes, and watching us fail miserably. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I do deserve this. Maybe I don’t. But to convict me, all you need is this miserable letter, which I have hidden so they can’t find it. But you can’t convict me. No, you can’t.
You can’t convict a dead man.
Nile Owens
Sunday, June 1, 2009
A sparkling tear fell onto the hastily written note, making a damp mark on it and smearing the ink from his pen. As much as he hated to admit it, it was what needed to be done. He had taken the time and written out what he wanted the media to know. All they needed to know was that there was no deranged killer on the loose and that nobody needs to bar their windows. The rest of this case, this impossibly tangled mess, was to remain in his mind and his mind alone.
Before the darkened piece of paper sat a lone coyote in the dark, his tan a brown fur glistening from the candlelight around him. His muzzle was a bit longer than most and quite a bit thinner as well. It was impossible to tell exacts about him, due to the pouring rain outside and the fading light of the decadent candle, but a few things were apparent. His jacket was irreparably torn at the ends, and seemed to have assorted spots of darkness all over sleeves and chest. To match that, his light pants also had a bit of discoloration in them, almost black in the waning fire’s light. His tail was drooped loosely out the back of the chair, which only had a curved piece of ornate wood for the upper back and nothing else.
But it was all too clear what covered the coyote. Crimson, fresh blood.
Now was the time for redemption, now was the time for him to make things right. Everybody needed to know that something terrible had happened at this place, and everybody needs to know that it should never be repeated. History is always destined to repeat itself, but if somebody steps in the way and warns the victims, then some things can be prevented. But many things are inevitable, no matter how many tries are given. But he would end it all here so nobody else would have to go through this madness. Nobody else.
Standing jerkily up, the coyote’s pupils dilated ever so slightly from the fear that surged through his body. But he had overcome that fear, embraced it and mastered it. As the shadows danced around the room like they were on strings, the figure stepped over a few black lumps on the floor that were surrounded by dark pools, and made his way towards the door of the hotel room. Room 211.
Putting a wary paw on the door handle, he breathed slowly, trying to calm himself. All he could manage, though, was to rasp a bit and make him draw even deeper breaths. Furrowing his brow even further, he twisted the handle slowly. His other paw lay at his side grasping something, something that glinted when the thunder struck in the background. A large butcher knife, dripping a deep ruby liquid off of it.* That was all he had. That was all he could work with.
He had to make sure he had everything, so he wouldn’t die in obscurity. He wanted to go out as a martyr, who died for a cause and made the world better from it. Slowly, he formed a checklist in his mind.
Camera.
Film.
Knife.
The evidence.
Was there something he was missing? He didn’t quite know, but there was no time. They would be here any minute, and he needed the element of surprise and a hell of a lot of luck to make it out of this.
Everything leading up this, everybody’s struggles… It had all been like this from the beginning, hadn’t it? This had all been preordained, whether it be by that supposed group or just by some malicious and vengeful diety, but no matter what angle he took the situation from, it all pointed to one thing.
Why hadn’t he seen it coming? Why hadn’t he avoided all of this? Looking back at the past four days, he began to wonder about how much of this was his own fault. Maybe he had brought all of this on himself. Maybe, if he had done something different, this would never have happened. They would all be saying their goodbyes with hugs and well wishes for the future. But now the only chance to say goodbye had already passed. It had passed by when they passed away. His only chance.
“I’m here now…” he gasped under his breath as he turned the handle. A macabre grin spread across his lips and engulfed his entire expression.
Screams, the sound of flesh being cut, shouts… And one inhuman banshee-like shriek that pierced the entire hotel. It was over. Finally over.
Here's the rundown on the story so far -
It's going to have its very graphic moments, as well as its normal moments. If you're easily freaked out by reading about blood, go ahead and stop... There's only two violent scenes so far though, so they're not every five seconds and such. Another thing, there is also a not so kid friendly version of this I got convinced into writing, so if you really care that much,I'll shoot it off in an email or something. And yes, this is the clean version, just to make that clear ^.^
I'm also working on come concept art for it, and so far I've only got a reference sheet for Leena uploaded, and she's not even the main character xP
And also, I'm sorry if the writing at the beginning is horrible, I tend to get better after a few months of writing*
And without further ado, I give you... The prologue!
Prologue
I did it. That’s all there is to it. There’s no other choice, right? When faced with decisions like mine, people usually lose their minds and panic. But did I? No, of course I didn’t, I kept my calm through all of this. And it might spare me my life for a few days. I know it’s coming for me, whether I want it to or not, so I might as well let you know what’s happened so far.
I did it. If somebody else is blamed for my crime, then the innocent will be proven guilty without a shred of supportive evidence. All the evidence needed to convict somebody is in the media. They are watching, constantly watching me. Watching us make mistakes, and watching us fail miserably. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I do deserve this. Maybe I don’t. But to convict me, all you need is this miserable letter, which I have hidden so they can’t find it. But you can’t convict me. No, you can’t.
You can’t convict a dead man.
Nile Owens
Sunday, June 1, 2009
A sparkling tear fell onto the hastily written note, making a damp mark on it and smearing the ink from his pen. As much as he hated to admit it, it was what needed to be done. He had taken the time and written out what he wanted the media to know. All they needed to know was that there was no deranged killer on the loose and that nobody needs to bar their windows. The rest of this case, this impossibly tangled mess, was to remain in his mind and his mind alone.
Before the darkened piece of paper sat a lone coyote in the dark, his tan a brown fur glistening from the candlelight around him. His muzzle was a bit longer than most and quite a bit thinner as well. It was impossible to tell exacts about him, due to the pouring rain outside and the fading light of the decadent candle, but a few things were apparent. His jacket was irreparably torn at the ends, and seemed to have assorted spots of darkness all over sleeves and chest. To match that, his light pants also had a bit of discoloration in them, almost black in the waning fire’s light. His tail was drooped loosely out the back of the chair, which only had a curved piece of ornate wood for the upper back and nothing else.
But it was all too clear what covered the coyote. Crimson, fresh blood.
Now was the time for redemption, now was the time for him to make things right. Everybody needed to know that something terrible had happened at this place, and everybody needs to know that it should never be repeated. History is always destined to repeat itself, but if somebody steps in the way and warns the victims, then some things can be prevented. But many things are inevitable, no matter how many tries are given. But he would end it all here so nobody else would have to go through this madness. Nobody else.
Standing jerkily up, the coyote’s pupils dilated ever so slightly from the fear that surged through his body. But he had overcome that fear, embraced it and mastered it. As the shadows danced around the room like they were on strings, the figure stepped over a few black lumps on the floor that were surrounded by dark pools, and made his way towards the door of the hotel room. Room 211.
Putting a wary paw on the door handle, he breathed slowly, trying to calm himself. All he could manage, though, was to rasp a bit and make him draw even deeper breaths. Furrowing his brow even further, he twisted the handle slowly. His other paw lay at his side grasping something, something that glinted when the thunder struck in the background. A large butcher knife, dripping a deep ruby liquid off of it.* That was all he had. That was all he could work with.
He had to make sure he had everything, so he wouldn’t die in obscurity. He wanted to go out as a martyr, who died for a cause and made the world better from it. Slowly, he formed a checklist in his mind.
Camera.
Film.
Knife.
The evidence.
Was there something he was missing? He didn’t quite know, but there was no time. They would be here any minute, and he needed the element of surprise and a hell of a lot of luck to make it out of this.
Everything leading up this, everybody’s struggles… It had all been like this from the beginning, hadn’t it? This had all been preordained, whether it be by that supposed group or just by some malicious and vengeful diety, but no matter what angle he took the situation from, it all pointed to one thing.
Why hadn’t he seen it coming? Why hadn’t he avoided all of this? Looking back at the past four days, he began to wonder about how much of this was his own fault. Maybe he had brought all of this on himself. Maybe, if he had done something different, this would never have happened. They would all be saying their goodbyes with hugs and well wishes for the future. But now the only chance to say goodbye had already passed. It had passed by when they passed away. His only chance.
“I’m here now…” he gasped under his breath as he turned the handle. A macabre grin spread across his lips and engulfed his entire expression.
Screams, the sound of flesh being cut, shouts… And one inhuman banshee-like shriek that pierced the entire hotel. It was over. Finally over.