E.V.T
Blue Belt
[M:5350]
I'm not dead, just hibernating[ss:edisnoom ...oom ...m]
Posts: 764
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Post by E.V.T on May 16, 2008 9:23:24 GMT -6
Yeah, why?
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Post by redearth on May 16, 2008 22:46:56 GMT -6
wow.. thats cool.. I wanna hear more!!!
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Post by Jerzkong on May 18, 2008 10:22:05 GMT -6
Wow... Usually I write it all in one go, or else my train of thought explodes.
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E.V.T
Blue Belt
[M:5350]
I'm not dead, just hibernating[ss:edisnoom ...oom ...m]
Posts: 764
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Post by E.V.T on May 18, 2008 12:52:30 GMT -6
If I sit down and write a lot, I tend to pick at it, and after picking at it so much I'll scrap it because I would forget were I was going with it.
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Post by Jerzkong on May 19, 2008 8:47:00 GMT -6
Really? Don't do that! You have good ideas!
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E.V.T
Blue Belt
[M:5350]
I'm not dead, just hibernating[ss:edisnoom ...oom ...m]
Posts: 764
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Post by E.V.T on May 23, 2008 3:21:11 GMT -6
I've held a secret for thirteen years, now it's a secret that's staring me in the face. Right now, my future depends on one action, and one that one action hangs the fate of those around me. What do I do? Do I expose my inner demon, and save the lives that are around me, or do I keep it inside, tethered to me, as my life flashes before my eyes? Thirteen years ago, I was four then, I was found at the bottom of a construction site, when I followed four teens there in curiousness. What I saw startled me, and the saw me, they saw me watch what they did, and they gave chase. I was cornered between them and a drop-off, at first I dropped to my knees, but that wasn't good enough. They pushed me off the drop-off, and I never remember hitting the bottom.
Now it's different, now I have the means to defend, defend those against the man with a loaded gun, but do I want these people to know? Can I trust them? Not many when confronted understand or even seem to like me in the end. They start to hate me when they see I'm different. You know what? Screw it; screw them if they don't understand that I saved them. Now begins a new chapter, a new me... Before the man knew it, I already had my hand around his throat, against the wall. The darkness was at the poise, ready to split him into two. However, I made a mistake, thinking he would drop the gun in surprise, I felt two hot rounds tear through my side. I felt my other drive itself into his abdomen, moving past the skin to reveal it's gory inside, and I enjoyed its warmth.
Thirteen years ago, the night I fell to my death, a passer by to pity, and gave me a hand. He said, "don't fear, for I take you into my self, and live," and so I did. That night changed everything for me. I never saved the girl that night. I found her on the other side of the building. Now, the man dropped his weapon as I found what I wanted. He could feel it, my hand, as it brushed past his liver, moved over the stomach and towards his lower spine. He began to shake, knowing I was in him. He began to resist, and so removing my hands, I let him fall to the floor. Coughing and withering in the pain I caused, he began to shout obscenities. Picking up the gun and unloading it, the only words he heard me say was "he's your's." The last thing he said was an indistinguishable scream. Now they know, the tattoo I've had for thirteen years was not just simple markings. It held great significance, for it showed I was a carrier, of my own demon. I'm not the only one with markings similar, but little did I know that in two years time I would receive more help, but not another demon, but an angel. Then I'd be different, like no other container before me, I would hold two, both light and dark. Never is a demon or an angel just good or bad, They become parts of the container, and it is the container's will that they act upon. For in my life I've seen both angels and demons slaughter, and I've seen them save lives, but it was according to the will of the container. "He's yours," he said. I saw his eyes, a slight pain flashed behind it. Not from the bullet wounds, but from letting his demon feed. Before I could make my way over he collapsed. While he'll heal, it would take a lot out of him, but in the mean time, he'll be vulnerable, and in this mall, I'm sure that there's another shooter. Six year's I've had an angel, I was given the choice whether I wanted a demon or an angel. I chose an angel. No two are alike, and no one can carry more than one. when one dies, so does the other. He won't die; I won't let him die...
It's been a year, since that shooting, thirty-five people died, another forty-one wounded, and that's not including the eight that did it. Do I feel remorse for not letting our legal system to handle it, not a bit. I believe that there would be thirty-five people saying that because their death was something so horrible, those responsible shouldn't even have their rights read to them. The only remorse I have is for those that have died.
The angel she had took on the mark of an ankh on her back, not the simple flat-toned ankh. It was elegant, it had the outline of a braided cord, and within the outline a beautiful array of uncolored flowers blossomed, and crowned with a lotus flower. I almost reach out and trace it every time I see it, but not now, for it's three in the morning, and the orchestra of rain, wind, and lightning serenade this town in it's slumber. My demon took on the form of Horus, under a night sky that reached between my fingers, the sky its self was detailed with constellations and a moon, and Horus was detailed to the point of each individual feather was beautiful. When I first awoke with my demon, It was simple only the Eye of Horus was visible, and over the years it grew as I did. Each mark is unique, the mark itself is not the inhabitant of the container, they are just markings, proof that one is a container. When I showed up with it my parents flipped, thinking I was in a gang until I started to mention the demon, for months I saw shrink after shrink, I grew sick of it, and showed them my darkness. They were never the same, and when I turned sixteen and petitioned for emancipated, they never fought it. That was a year before the day at the mall. Before I met Pan. The strengths, powers, and advantages, can change a person. I've seen it happen, and each time I meet someone whose become drunk with the responsibility, I wonder why, but now, sitting on the back porch staring at the mid-summer shower. I wonder not if, but when I would be called to fight those like us again. As I ponder the future, I feel a hand lay upon my shoulder. I turn and nuzzle it, little did I know, that I would only have another year with her.
"What's wrong, Zeek?" She asked. "I can feel it, something isn't right." "What do you mean?" "Listen, don't you hear that voice, Pan?" "I'm not hearing it, nor am I feeling anything, but It's three a.m. come back to bed." "You know I don't sleep." "I know, but just being close makes me feel safe." I stood, watching past the willows, the direction of that voice. I turned my head just as Pandora drew in close to me. I lay my head upon hers and kiss her hair. Ah, the smell of that hair, that slight odor of caramel, I don't know how or why it smells that way, but I love it, and would be highly offended if it ever, EVER went away.
When we reached the school, I knew the day was already going to suck. A constant heavy shower couldn't shake off the forbidding gloom that casted its’ self upon the building. As I entered through the large unwelcoming doors of what was supposed to be knowledge. Pandora and I already started seeing others run as someone shouted down the hall. One decided that their life took precedence over that of six others trapped in a conference room off of the main auditorium.
It's one thing attributing a sighting to hysteria when several gunmen are taking aim and racking up a count, but, how would you convince six people that what they saw was nothing more than adrenaline and shadows playing a trick on the mind? As I approach the doorway I hear him ranting. "Do you know what it's like? Having to lay awake because you hear the taunts as you sleep?" "What's your name?" I call out. "What does it matter? the only thing these people seem to call me is Hermie, want to know why?" he said as he trained the pistol on a member of the football team. "Don't hurt them, you'll suffer a lot worse than being called Hermie if you do." "You didn't answer the question!" he gnashed. "Yes, yes I do, but you know you don't want me to say it." "Fine, but they have stuck me with that name since sixth grade, and no one expects to make friends with Hermie."
He's starting to refer to himself in third person, not good.
"I answered your question, can you answer mine?" "Why? It's pointless, the Hermie is upset, he's got a gun and he wants blood." "Look, we all have our demons, whether they face you from eight to three or you carry them all the time." "What do you know about demons? I've seen your life, you got a girl, a house." He started tearing "Even you don't see the full picture. I haven't slept in fourteen years, my family never supported me, and I've seen my share of pain across the years." I peaked in to see the room, good, they were huddle against the wall faces down. That would be hard to explain how six people see something and I don't.
I watched as he banged his head with the butt of his gun, but as soon as he saw me enter, he trained it on one of the girls. I shook my head as he yelled. "Back off! I'll shoot her!" "Don't, but if you did you wouldn't hit her." "You calling me a liar?" "I didn't say that. I said you wouldn't hit HER." "Screw you," and he fired.
He fired round after round into the demon shadow, hitting the wall behind it, and as he realized it would accomplish nothing, he turned the gun on himself. "Don't," I cry before I hear the imminent 'click' of the pin hitting the round.
I've never gotten used to it. The sight still bothers me, the red continues to coat a vivid picture as it's floating through the air. I close my eyes every time it happens. As I fall back in desperation, I stare at the ceiling as things begin to cloud. "Just... Don't..."
I awoke within a white cell, one you might find mental patients. The next thing I noticed was I was down to underwear. I typically don't wear underwear, so what was I doing here in a white cell with underwear? My initial thought was to break out, but my demon never came. I looked at my arm and the mural it had formed was gone. It was gone? How can that be? I've lived with it for so long it was a part of me, wait, I was shot. Then it hit me, I died. I'm dead and trapped in a freaking cell? No, Pandora would have helped me. "Don't" a voice echoed through the cell. That's me? Why would I say that? I don't want to die! "I did it..." the voice echoed Did what? "I brought you here, I wanted to show you something." Who are you "I am the demon that grew with you, saved you years ago." How? Why did you do this? "You are changing, and so am I" This time a face, my face emerged from the wall.
"Father, what's going on?" I asked as I rubbed Ezekiel's head. "He's synthesizing the the demon, Pandora." "What can we do?" "Pray, my daughter, for that's all we can ever do." Father Bernard said as he cycled through his prayer beads.
It took me two days to tear my towards the sea, The day I came upon the sandy beaches of south carolina, I stared emptily at my future. She said something I could not hear, for the demon's hunger for destruction was to great. With a hand out-stretched I seized Pan's throat. They fought hard, long and hard, and in a final desperite attempt the angel plunged into my soul. I created my own prison, replaying the night I first aquired this curse, but everytime I hit the ground, no one came to my rescue, and the nightmare repeated.
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Post by Jerzkong on May 24, 2008 1:55:02 GMT -6
Hey what grade are you?
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E.V.T
Blue Belt
[M:5350]
I'm not dead, just hibernating[ss:edisnoom ...oom ...m]
Posts: 764
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Post by E.V.T on May 24, 2008 2:53:57 GMT -6
finally graduated back in 06. Cleaned it up and broke it down to one post (sorry if I broke the screen), but sorry for all the "This message was deleted by the original poster" posts.
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Post by Jerzkong on Jul 22, 2008 5:30:11 GMT -6
Oh, you finished it? It's awesome ------------------------------------------------------- Knocked out by paper. That may be his most embarrassing moment in his life. Of course, it wasn't what you would think. Though termed as 'paper' in this text, I should also mention that the paper was wielded by a person strong enough to bring mere squiggles into existence as a wholly formed object. I shall tell you how it was. The thief - not too extravagent or well-known, more like your typical criminal with nothing to hide but his criminal record - was running from the store by the road which he had recently burgled, paying little attention to the person he pushed by as he sprinted into the empty alleyway. He barely noticed the movement as the hooded figure pulled out a scrumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and quickly drew what may have been a three sided square, one side conveniently missing. A few little L's, and he admired his handiwork before slamming it against the wall he was leaning on. The paper flashed an intense white. And the thief was - Well. I shouldn't ruin it so soon. Building the climax, right? So, one day, I was drinking some tea when a rabid dog came up to me and started snarling. Peculiar, correct? So what I did was grab the handbag - not mine, my mother's, she instructed me to never leave it out of my sight as she shopped for clothes she would wear once and only once - and carefully smashed it into the dog's nose. A little whimper, some froth spraying over the precious leather, and it ran away, howling and biting the legs of anyone unlucky enough to stand in its way. Mother was not exactly happy, waving off the incident as she glared at me over her scuffed leather. Anyways, back to the story. The thief was alarmed as the bricks next to him started to shudder and rumble, his cry muffled as a horizontal tower of bricks burst out of the wall and grazed his shoulder. The force, diluted as it was, though - is the word diluted? - was enough to spin him around vigourously as he spun into the opposite wall, effectively knocking himself out with a minor concussion. The hoodie, on the other hand, giggled and skipped away, throwing badly drawn birds into the air and letting them struggle in their existence as mutant creatures. The thief, on the other hand, was caught and jailed. Goodnight now.
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Post by commonyoshi on Aug 4, 2008 19:59:06 GMT -6
One day Floss Man got tired of being wedged between ungrateful people's teeth. So he waited until his flosser, Ross, decided to start flossing. Floss Man grabbed on to Ross's tooth and would not let go.
"Ow!" said Ross. "Let go."
But Floss Man would not let go.
Ross was in a bit of a pickle, very much like the pickle he was trying to get out of his teeth. His hot date with Coral Wince was in half and hour, and he couldn't possibly show up like an idiot with floss dangling out his mouth.
Ross tried desperately to pull Floss Man out. However, Floss Man was of stringent character and couldn't be moved, and Ross, try as he might, was only able to cause himself pain. That's when he thought of an idea.
(Later) Ross showed up at the movie theater looking glistening clean for his hot date. He had promised to meet Coral in front of the plaque of famous movie star, Colonel Ed Gate. And there she was. His ridiculously hot date, Coral Wince. (Did I mention she was ridiculously hot?) But unfortunately there was someone with her Ross did not want to see. It was Coral's friend, Jean. It was not that he didn't like her; it was just that he had hoped to be alone with Coral. Perhaps he should have made his intentions of a date more clear, he thought to himself.
"Hey, Ross" the two of them said together. "Hi, Coral. Hi Jean. So what do you guys want to see?"
*to be continued* Next week: Floss Man isn't gone yet!
(I know I changed main characters, but that was because I realized Ross had more chances to interact with people. Floss Man was stuck inside Ross' mouth. This was actually written in two segments, and I decided to switch main protagonists when I continued writing after a long break. I'll fix it eventually)
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Post by Jerzkong on Aug 5, 2008 3:47:25 GMT -6
Ha, pickle like in his teeth
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E.V.T
Blue Belt
[M:5350]
I'm not dead, just hibernating[ss:edisnoom ...oom ...m]
Posts: 764
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Post by E.V.T on Sept 24, 2008 18:11:49 GMT -6
As the rain lightly drizzled across the plains, it was a chance sighting that two individuals were spotted. A farmer was out tending his animals when he spotted two seperate silhouettes in the distance. Unsure as to what they were he picked up his hunting rifle and got in his '76 GMC truck. As he approached them he began to recognize them as those ever-familiar crosses you see inside a church, but as he moved to get a look towards the front side of them he gasped. Two disrobbed figures hung crucified from them...
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"Two by two, God shall lead us to his garden once again." leader yelled across the auditorium. "amen!" praised the congragation. "Adam's and Eve's, hear me for I am your shepered, and the world outside this building is our serpent. Designed to tempt you from ever returning..."
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The shower washed over Robbie's back, and he hesitated to leave the comfort of it's embrace as he heard the door bell ring. "I'm coming," he yelled, breaking the repetitive sound of the shower. "Door should be unlocked," turning the knob and reaching for a towel.
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"Dammit..." "How did you avoid being dragged in to that cult?" Elissa shifted from the kitchen to the big couch. "I ran away, no, at first my parents understood. I wasn't as religious as they were, so they didn't haul me to church every sunday. They let me decide after at least one visit to what ever church they happened to go to after a big move." "What happened when they found this cult?" "At first, they went only once a week. Like a typical church, but when they started going two, three, four times a week, it quickly became unlike any other church that they've been to." "How come you never went to it?" "I never understood the concept of god." "So, that guy has started killing 'em?" she said changing the subject. "Yep, 'lissa, and there won't be any stopping him. I just," he paused. "Just what?" "Got to get my parents out." he choked. "You got a plan?" she asked, edging closer to him. "nope..."
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"God commands us that we return to the ways before the sins have been committed." "NO!" a voice yelled from the back of the room. "Who are you to challenge me?" the leader spoke. "Look at the ways god has dealt with sin." "Robbie?" a women called from the third row. "God punishes those who sin in several ways. Fire & brimstone, water, and finally in blood." "I don't see where your gettin' at son," "Your not releasing these people. You're aiding in thier suicides." "Don't listen to the one with the forked tongue." "YOU should be talking... What you need is a sacrificial lamb..."
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As various factions of police and government inforcement teams took their positions around the complex, agent Lidaugh watched through a set of high powered binoculars as Robbert Winston bent down on his knees and whispered into the former cult leaders ear. Not knowing what was said, he witnessed the bruised and battered leaders face change from one of joy to that of extreme terror. It appeared that Robbert gave the command to rise the leader (who was strapped to one of his own damned crosses) as he screamed incoherently "NOO" above the praying mass. It was the que he'd been waiting for...
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Having convinced the leader to become that what he saught these followers to do, robbie had the cult leader take punishement for the sin of murder, by letting his followers beat, cut, and scratch at his flesh, until robbie had them stop. As Robbie had the leader strapped to the cross as par his own instruction, he knelt beside him and gloated. "You really believe you can wash away their sins with your blood now?" "Yes, for you have convinced me that god is not condemning, but salvation through the blood of a savior!" "You know you make little sense." "What? you were the one -" Getting closer to just whisper in his ear without being over heard, "I lied you sick man." and knowing he blocked the view from any one that might see, he dropped one of the leaders own cyanide pills into his mouth, and slapped his cheek to break it. "NOOOO!" He began to scream, "Nooooah." Obviously the pill had taken quicker effect than robbie had hoped.
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"noooaaah" the leader moaned as law enforcement raided the building and forced in and everyone to the ground. His vision began to darken, voices became a groan of hiss, and he felt it, his heart, beginning to strive for each pump. The last thing he saw was the menacing grin of robbert. He would swear he could have heard that kids mindful laughter as his heart shoved off one final contraction...
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Post by Jerzkong on Sept 26, 2008 8:09:12 GMT -6
Um, yay?
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E.V.T
Blue Belt
[M:5350]
I'm not dead, just hibernating[ss:edisnoom ...oom ...m]
Posts: 764
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Post by E.V.T on Sept 26, 2008 12:04:30 GMT -6
Just haven't finished the thought yet... check back later...
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