BlueRaven
28-04-2009, 06:44 AM
I've started back on me writing! (BIG thanks to Clowgon) Just need an opinion if this is good or bad since I've been outta writing for aeons now. Its just a bit of what I'm working on for now. Lemme know if you think this reads as intresting:
It was raining… again… the same way it had for the entire week. Cold tears from the sky drenching those cobbled streets, washing away the sins that thrust itself on these dark streets.
Curfew time sunk in again, no one walks in the night… when the sun sets it feels as though the cats themselves who prowl the nightly air fear what happened… fear the cold harsh reality of last week… before the rain… the cold hard rain that beats against the window panes, threatening to almost shatter them. Trying to wash the streets of its sin but will never succeed in washing away our memories or what we all witnessed that cold savage night.
Sitting by the fire, flames licking the furnace of the damp apartment over looking the city square, I stroked the cover of the leather bound box… I had seen it too often that my blood no longer curdled, the hairs on my neck stood no more, the fear to touch it had subsided. I grew accustomed to it… like a stray cat accustomed to its owner. NO! I will not let this box own me! I own the box! I stroked the delicate silver latch of the box and whispered gently “You cruel beast… I will try to destroy you” As usual… after whispering these words or any words that bourn a resemblance to its destruction the flames blew out and the room became dark and colder as usual. I knew what to do by now… “Your not going to hurt me… you need me. Your tricks will only scare a little child now if you don’t mind – put the damn fire back its bloody cold” The flames jumped back roaring like a lion.
It was raining… again… the same way it had for the entire week. Cold tears from the sky drenching those cobbled streets, washing away the sins that thrust itself on these dark streets.
Curfew time sunk in again, no one walks in the night… when the sun sets it feels as though the cats themselves who prowl the nightly air fear what happened… fear the cold harsh reality of last week… before the rain… the cold hard rain that beats against the window panes, threatening to almost shatter them. Trying to wash the streets of its sin but will never succeed in washing away our memories or what we all witnessed that cold savage night.
Sitting by the fire, flames licking the furnace of the damp apartment over looking the city square, I stroked the cover of the leather bound box… I had seen it too often that my blood no longer curdled, the hairs on my neck stood no more, the fear to touch it had subsided. I grew accustomed to it… like a stray cat accustomed to its owner. NO! I will not let this box own me! I own the box! I stroked the delicate silver latch of the box and whispered gently “You cruel beast… I will try to destroy you” As usual… after whispering these words or any words that bourn a resemblance to its destruction the flames blew out and the room became dark and colder as usual. I knew what to do by now… “Your not going to hurt me… you need me. Your tricks will only scare a little child now if you don’t mind – put the damn fire back its bloody cold” The flames jumped back roaring like a lion.