2010-02-25, 11:08 PM
(This post was last modified: 2010-02-25, 11:14 PM by Smooth Criminal.)
Khoi, I'm reading your post, and it seems awkward. It's dark and yet there are thousands of stars glimmering brightly? These descriptions totally contradict each other. Dark would usually indicate that it's so dark that it's hard to see anything and is more than likely cloudy, and when you usually see stars in the night sky, I'm usually expecting the sky to be clear and illuminated. Awkward description, but that's A-okay compared to some of what I've seen in Stephanie Meyer's writing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a dark day, the blackest of the night skies; he noted to himself as he gently patted down masking tape onto the glass. The city skyline was dark, but the lights of the buildings shone brightly throughout the night. But here in the alley, there is nothing but pure darkness. He looked to his side, thinking perhaps there might be someone. His eyes lay upon the corpse of a dead dog. Dog carcass in the alley this evening, tire tread on burst stomach. "This city is afraid of me. I have seen it's true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scabs over, all the vermi will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up and all the whores and politicans will look up and shout: "Save us!"... and I'll look down, and whisper "no"" he mused in pure contempt. A few swift jabs, and the glass came crashing on the other side without a sound. As he came into the window, it was the sound of a crescendo. He came into her apartment. With each and every step, an ugly crimson red bloodstain was left on the carpet.
"Hm, must have been the guys outside I bumped into not long ago," he muttered to himself as he noticed the obvious traces that he had been in the room. It's not like he cared anyways. The police force was now corrupt and nearly powerless. As if they'd be able to notice a few murders here and there. He looked across the room and saw another shattered window. His eyes rolled in utter disgust. Disgust at himself, disgust at his own failure to have saved her in time; and mostly: disgust at the world for just sitting there. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the defenseless. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that subjects them to rape, torture, and death. It's us. Only us. That day, the world stood still and just watched: all the vermin, indulging in their sex and money, just didn't care about the suffering so plainly in their eyes. "How disgusting," he murmured. At the safe time, he couldn't help feel himself responsible. He wondered where he was the day she was raped, operated on, and killed.
A figure ran underneath the table. He fired the first figure. The shadow ran into the bedroom. He followed it inside.
"No...you're... you're!"
The roar of the city engulfed the scene- the roar of honking cars, the buzz of neon lights, and the roar of trains passing by, and with just that, the trigger of his P-90 was pulled with a delicate grip of the trigger. The figure was struck down, it was their doom.
"You've been hit been: no, you've been struck by- a smooth criminal."
"He" was none other than The Moonwalker, as they called him on the mafia. At least, that's what they called him when he was a formerly loyal member of the mafia. Now, he was going to go by a new name: Michael Jackson the Cyber Slayer. He was a baby faced, and yet mature looking man with tanned skin and gorgeous black hair and a nice smile; as others told him- and he stood pretty tall at 5'10". To him, he didn't seem cut out for the mafia world in terms of how he looked; but he was loyal and skilled and stood out as the best of the best. He killed for the mafia to support himself and his sister Annie; even if it meant for the two of them to separate paths in life. She was sweet, had a nice smile, and had long elegant black hair. She was pure and innocent as the falling snow now dropping from the city sky. He loved her and wanted to protect her away from the dangerous world he had to set foot in. However, one day, he failed to protect her when his so-called friend from the same mafia mob: Liu Haojun and his companions, had raped her, operated on her without anesthesia, and ultimately killed her. He cut off all ties to the mafia and vanished for a few days. Now, he was back as Michael Jackson the Cyber Slayer; but to the few close enough to him, they called him "Michael". The children were all fond of him, and they too called him "Michael".
He now looked down on Annie's body. Blood was all over the carpet, and face had a sharp expression of pain, with her mouth foaming and her body cut up. "Annie, are you okay," Michael whispered. With a breeze of the wind, he could have sworn he heard the words "I don't know." He nodded and then shed a tear as he placed her body on the bed tucked in the blankets and layed a bouquet of white roses by her side. They were her favorite. At least she got a somewhat respectful burial.
He walked out of the front entrance of the building.
"Michael!"
The children had been following him, and they adored him- he was a nice and fun guy to them after all and a role model in their lives. Their faces lit up with wide, teethy smiles.
"Hey," he said with a feigned, weak smile as he walked right past them.
It was Sunday- what a black day. Mouth to mouth resuscitation going on in the background as the sound of sounding heartbeats from intimidation filled the background.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a dark day, the blackest of the night skies; he noted to himself as he gently patted down masking tape onto the glass. The city skyline was dark, but the lights of the buildings shone brightly throughout the night. But here in the alley, there is nothing but pure darkness. He looked to his side, thinking perhaps there might be someone. His eyes lay upon the corpse of a dead dog. Dog carcass in the alley this evening, tire tread on burst stomach. "This city is afraid of me. I have seen it's true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scabs over, all the vermi will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up and all the whores and politicans will look up and shout: "Save us!"... and I'll look down, and whisper "no"" he mused in pure contempt. A few swift jabs, and the glass came crashing on the other side without a sound. As he came into the window, it was the sound of a crescendo. He came into her apartment. With each and every step, an ugly crimson red bloodstain was left on the carpet.
"Hm, must have been the guys outside I bumped into not long ago," he muttered to himself as he noticed the obvious traces that he had been in the room. It's not like he cared anyways. The police force was now corrupt and nearly powerless. As if they'd be able to notice a few murders here and there. He looked across the room and saw another shattered window. His eyes rolled in utter disgust. Disgust at himself, disgust at his own failure to have saved her in time; and mostly: disgust at the world for just sitting there. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the defenseless. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that subjects them to rape, torture, and death. It's us. Only us. That day, the world stood still and just watched: all the vermin, indulging in their sex and money, just didn't care about the suffering so plainly in their eyes. "How disgusting," he murmured. At the safe time, he couldn't help feel himself responsible. He wondered where he was the day she was raped, operated on, and killed.
A figure ran underneath the table. He fired the first figure. The shadow ran into the bedroom. He followed it inside.
"No...you're... you're!"
The roar of the city engulfed the scene- the roar of honking cars, the buzz of neon lights, and the roar of trains passing by, and with just that, the trigger of his P-90 was pulled with a delicate grip of the trigger. The figure was struck down, it was their doom.
"You've been hit been: no, you've been struck by- a smooth criminal."
"He" was none other than The Moonwalker, as they called him on the mafia. At least, that's what they called him when he was a formerly loyal member of the mafia. Now, he was going to go by a new name: Michael Jackson the Cyber Slayer. He was a baby faced, and yet mature looking man with tanned skin and gorgeous black hair and a nice smile; as others told him- and he stood pretty tall at 5'10". To him, he didn't seem cut out for the mafia world in terms of how he looked; but he was loyal and skilled and stood out as the best of the best. He killed for the mafia to support himself and his sister Annie; even if it meant for the two of them to separate paths in life. She was sweet, had a nice smile, and had long elegant black hair. She was pure and innocent as the falling snow now dropping from the city sky. He loved her and wanted to protect her away from the dangerous world he had to set foot in. However, one day, he failed to protect her when his so-called friend from the same mafia mob: Liu Haojun and his companions, had raped her, operated on her without anesthesia, and ultimately killed her. He cut off all ties to the mafia and vanished for a few days. Now, he was back as Michael Jackson the Cyber Slayer; but to the few close enough to him, they called him "Michael". The children were all fond of him, and they too called him "Michael".
He now looked down on Annie's body. Blood was all over the carpet, and face had a sharp expression of pain, with her mouth foaming and her body cut up. "Annie, are you okay," Michael whispered. With a breeze of the wind, he could have sworn he heard the words "I don't know." He nodded and then shed a tear as he placed her body on the bed tucked in the blankets and layed a bouquet of white roses by her side. They were her favorite. At least she got a somewhat respectful burial.
He walked out of the front entrance of the building.
"Michael!"
The children had been following him, and they adored him- he was a nice and fun guy to them after all and a role model in their lives. Their faces lit up with wide, teethy smiles.
"Hey," he said with a feigned, weak smile as he walked right past them.
It was Sunday- what a black day. Mouth to mouth resuscitation going on in the background as the sound of sounding heartbeats from intimidation filled the background.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~