Cobra
Jul 14, 2001, 09:06 PM
Hello peoples, here is the latest installment in my To Kill the Messanger trilogy (stupid name I know, I'm working on it!)
This, just like the first story (Winter's Slaves) is going to be constantly edited and may go for months without updates.
Feedback is nice.
Enjoy.
~*~
http://www.angelfire.com/art/ninjapixie/fistful.gif
Fistful of Sand
The Beginning of My Wanderings
As the metropolis streets swarmed with creatures of all kind and race, hardly anyone noticed the short redhead walking with slumped shoulders and a downcast face.
But it was her point to be unnoticed.
As she glanced up at the sky with a look as if searching for rain clouds, her red-brown eyes had a slight flicker of gray in them. But her face was then once more fixed on the invisible line in front of her.
She felt like a lifeless, emotionless spirit sent to roam the earth with no hope of inner peace. She felt lonely, yet she wanted no one around her. She wanted to give up and rest, even if it was eternal, but Fate had made her path long and without an end in sight. Every step along the path of her wasted, weary life seemed harder than the last.
The life of the wanderer was supposedly a noble destiny, and it was oft a life that children dreamed of. But a life of forced wanderings was not her current request in prayers to her Deity. She had wandered enough, more than enough even. It seemed that she never fit in, and even if she did, soon she would find she was an outsider and leave before she was forced.
But was being forced better than leaving? Tears were still shed and wounds were still gouged into the minds and hearts of all involved. The pain and suffering was the same, except for the rejection.
Ah, the rejection! The fated ill will that seemed to haunt her paths endlessly. The desire to be wanted, to be needed, but the fate to keep her from fitting in.
She had faced rejection or had rejected everyone. She was a loner who no longer wore the lime green or bright colors that she had loved in her past. She felt lifeless; and she dressed lifeless – had she not known as much pain, she would have considered herself lifeless.
As she neared an alley, she looked mournfully up at the sky again. It was dusk; darkness would be falling soon.
She turned into the alley. Colorful graphetti covered the sandstone walls in vibrant and glaring hues, screaming at her eyes.
A few rabbits were placed about, some staring off into nothingness, some filling the air with clouds of smoke from their cheap cigarettes. Placed in a wide window opening was a dark-purple haired rabbit with white fur.
Her eyes were drawn in hard glaring lines, cold and heartless. Her bloodless lips were pressed together in a scowl and her dark eyebrows framed her dark eyes. Dark, thick lines of black lined her eyes giving them a hollow look.
Holding out a black nailed, skeleton-like hand she made eye contact and spoke. "You won’t find acceptance here." Her voice was low and rough.
The red head stopped. "I don't care." How was it that she knew her deepest thoughts and most intimate secret?
"You won't last long." The purple haired rabbit coughed twice then resumed. "We don't accept strangers."
The redhead gave the purple haired one a cold stare. "And your definition of stranger is? You hate life so much that everyone is a stranger to you, even yourself. You don't even believe what you yourself say."
She gave her another piercing stare. "You spend all day hating every second. Doesn't something seem wrong to you, Demi?"
Demi gave a sarcastic laugh. "You will never be one of us. You never see the futility of life, how pointless our lives are. Who are you to speak, dust speck? Life comes, life goes. I have no wish to forever be in this endless web of pain and turmoil. What I do with my life is my own work; if I kill myself then it is my own problem."
Cobra's red-brown eyes flickered with a flash of orange. Anger welled up inside her and words formed in her mind, but she kept her mouth closed. Demi, noticing her ire laughed. "To truly be one of us you must grow out of that childish hope." With those closing words, Demi got out of the window and soon the shadows swallowed her up.
"What is a single life? Everything I do is pointless and merely a waste. What is it to life, what is it to cease to exist?" Cobra looked up at the sky with pain written across her face. "Hope...merely a way to stand this..."
She stumbled past the rabbits and out of the range of their stares. Going along the twisting alleys, the state of the whole decreased rapidly. Eroded bricks and rusting metals made the buildings, and the graphetti grew worse. Refuse covered the ground, and the few trash cans and crates that were out there were overturned and covered in dents. Passing several more rabbits she turned into an empty corridor of an alley.
She went to the end, and moving some cardboard boxes aside, she sat down. Almost instantly the tears started coming. Her black eye makeup left black trails down her face and as she placed her hands over her eyes she knew she was smearing it more.
Looking at her black-smeared hands she watched a tear drip off of her face and land on her hand. She watched it run off the fur of her hand, and fall to the ground.
Feeling the sadness welling up inside her again she put her hands to her face. Whether happy or sad, light or dark, forever it seemed she would be alone in her abyss of darkness.
~*~
Moo ha ha.
_________________
www.angelfire.com/art/ninjapixie/ (http://www.angelfire.com/art/ninjapixie/)
Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it.
--W. Somerset Maugham
This, just like the first story (Winter's Slaves) is going to be constantly edited and may go for months without updates.
Feedback is nice.
Enjoy.
~*~
http://www.angelfire.com/art/ninjapixie/fistful.gif
Fistful of Sand
The Beginning of My Wanderings
As the metropolis streets swarmed with creatures of all kind and race, hardly anyone noticed the short redhead walking with slumped shoulders and a downcast face.
But it was her point to be unnoticed.
As she glanced up at the sky with a look as if searching for rain clouds, her red-brown eyes had a slight flicker of gray in them. But her face was then once more fixed on the invisible line in front of her.
She felt like a lifeless, emotionless spirit sent to roam the earth with no hope of inner peace. She felt lonely, yet she wanted no one around her. She wanted to give up and rest, even if it was eternal, but Fate had made her path long and without an end in sight. Every step along the path of her wasted, weary life seemed harder than the last.
The life of the wanderer was supposedly a noble destiny, and it was oft a life that children dreamed of. But a life of forced wanderings was not her current request in prayers to her Deity. She had wandered enough, more than enough even. It seemed that she never fit in, and even if she did, soon she would find she was an outsider and leave before she was forced.
But was being forced better than leaving? Tears were still shed and wounds were still gouged into the minds and hearts of all involved. The pain and suffering was the same, except for the rejection.
Ah, the rejection! The fated ill will that seemed to haunt her paths endlessly. The desire to be wanted, to be needed, but the fate to keep her from fitting in.
She had faced rejection or had rejected everyone. She was a loner who no longer wore the lime green or bright colors that she had loved in her past. She felt lifeless; and she dressed lifeless – had she not known as much pain, she would have considered herself lifeless.
As she neared an alley, she looked mournfully up at the sky again. It was dusk; darkness would be falling soon.
She turned into the alley. Colorful graphetti covered the sandstone walls in vibrant and glaring hues, screaming at her eyes.
A few rabbits were placed about, some staring off into nothingness, some filling the air with clouds of smoke from their cheap cigarettes. Placed in a wide window opening was a dark-purple haired rabbit with white fur.
Her eyes were drawn in hard glaring lines, cold and heartless. Her bloodless lips were pressed together in a scowl and her dark eyebrows framed her dark eyes. Dark, thick lines of black lined her eyes giving them a hollow look.
Holding out a black nailed, skeleton-like hand she made eye contact and spoke. "You won’t find acceptance here." Her voice was low and rough.
The red head stopped. "I don't care." How was it that she knew her deepest thoughts and most intimate secret?
"You won't last long." The purple haired rabbit coughed twice then resumed. "We don't accept strangers."
The redhead gave the purple haired one a cold stare. "And your definition of stranger is? You hate life so much that everyone is a stranger to you, even yourself. You don't even believe what you yourself say."
She gave her another piercing stare. "You spend all day hating every second. Doesn't something seem wrong to you, Demi?"
Demi gave a sarcastic laugh. "You will never be one of us. You never see the futility of life, how pointless our lives are. Who are you to speak, dust speck? Life comes, life goes. I have no wish to forever be in this endless web of pain and turmoil. What I do with my life is my own work; if I kill myself then it is my own problem."
Cobra's red-brown eyes flickered with a flash of orange. Anger welled up inside her and words formed in her mind, but she kept her mouth closed. Demi, noticing her ire laughed. "To truly be one of us you must grow out of that childish hope." With those closing words, Demi got out of the window and soon the shadows swallowed her up.
"What is a single life? Everything I do is pointless and merely a waste. What is it to life, what is it to cease to exist?" Cobra looked up at the sky with pain written across her face. "Hope...merely a way to stand this..."
She stumbled past the rabbits and out of the range of their stares. Going along the twisting alleys, the state of the whole decreased rapidly. Eroded bricks and rusting metals made the buildings, and the graphetti grew worse. Refuse covered the ground, and the few trash cans and crates that were out there were overturned and covered in dents. Passing several more rabbits she turned into an empty corridor of an alley.
She went to the end, and moving some cardboard boxes aside, she sat down. Almost instantly the tears started coming. Her black eye makeup left black trails down her face and as she placed her hands over her eyes she knew she was smearing it more.
Looking at her black-smeared hands she watched a tear drip off of her face and land on her hand. She watched it run off the fur of her hand, and fall to the ground.
Feeling the sadness welling up inside her again she put her hands to her face. Whether happy or sad, light or dark, forever it seemed she would be alone in her abyss of darkness.
~*~
Moo ha ha.
_________________
www.angelfire.com/art/ninjapixie/ (http://www.angelfire.com/art/ninjapixie/)
Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it.
--W. Somerset Maugham