Warning —————————————–
This contains written material that is rather graphic and may be disturbing to some individuals. It is made out of pure creative thought. Please don’t recreate any scenes in this story. Thank you.
————————————————
Sanity lost within the requiem of a shattered past. I find the lost pieces of my life tattered in the masses that make up a soldiers past.
The womans voice that I hear in my closet matches the beat of my heart excelling into the lifetimes of the past and the future. The voodoo that makes up my room holds no barriers as I cast a spell against this blood dripped blade.
Right here, in this world, no heroes to stop me, I take my cloth nd rub it back and forth on my blood-stained blade. It’s shiny now and glows with the moonlight that shines through the hole in my ceiling.
My walls creaking with the rats crawling through the cracks and the crickets making a lovely chirping noise the beat of my heart…
Thump thump, I hear something at the door. It’s the fucking asshole that says he owns this bitch in my closet. He asked where his woman was, I grabbed him by the neck and threw his head on the corner of my door.
To avoid the neighbors I quickly shut the door and slammed him across the room into the corner of a table. The asshole shrieking in pain and agony is now trying to insult me for my insanity that was lost within the requiem of my mind.
I grabbed him by the hair, rather long as well, and unsheathed my blade from it’s hiding place, what a shame, barley just unstained of blood. I cut his hair off and kick his face back down into the floor and I take my blade back to the moons light and I hear the beat of the womans screams and yells at my closet door, the tantrum of the asshole, and the beats of my own heart in complete synchronicity.
My heart, the beat, the moon, the yells, the screams, the blood, the sanity, the insanity, the life of a shattered requiem.
I never had the masses march upon me and hail me for my beauty and the great. I take the blade through and I cut the assholes head off and throw it at the closet door breaking it in and falling in the womans stomach knocking her against the wall onto her knees.
The bitch is screaming and yelling now. SHUT THE FUCK UP. I take my blade back and shove it in her vocal cords and snap it back into her mouth and scream in her ears “Happy Birthday”.
I spit on the ground and wipe the blade across my cheek and grin in the moonlight that illuminated the room.
A rat popped up in the room behind me and started to rub against my shoe. I dropped my blade onto it’s head and heard the squeal of a thousand beats.
My heart continues on in the midst of all it’s glories.
My sanity’s requiem lost forever in the masses of the shattered glass and the hallowed beats of the hearts that lay low beneath me.
Tap tap.
-Daniel Fischer 10/18/05
Ready. Set. Go.
In terms of the formatting, you're allowed to use markdown, textile, or basic html; it's truly up to you -- what strikes your fancy?
You don't have to worry about your e-mail address being sold to a russian-spam-mafia. I'm only going to use it for my own weird needs; like asking you out for a date on a lonely night of coding.