Nironia's fun test. ^_^
Section 1:
I am standing here, in this field. A field of no other color than that of the flag that is in my blesh-bone hand. Red, so red, crimson as bloody as the dusky sun that rose before me. It made a light upon the mutilated corpses, punctured, bruised, blackness now filling with red light which exposed their ugliness.
These men had fought to the death, and further than that. They had all gone into a war of horrid sickness, disease, the parasite of evil in the minds of those who led him. And thus the plague spread, not a black, but red plague, of rouge, rustic with putrid maggots and flies that filled the air with malice.
I would have died with them, but deep in my heart I was not consumed. But where shall I venture with these images of heartless pigs, flesh scattered, intestines ripped and freshly consumed by vultures as bile and digestive fluids sizzled in the new light... How could I stand in front of that more peaceful world... that world that was full of much happier memories? Not now... not ever...
I took that filthy stained banner, and I threw it at that plastered sun of dried evil passions. It flew and impaled that general that I most hated and dispised. That flag flew in the flames of agony, that sun that was the pit of the very human hell on earth, metal sharring and burning.
I died. For my mind could take no more as my blood seeped upon my wife's dead body.
The women and children fought too.
Section 2:
She didn't smile.
But he did.
He looked intently at her luscious figure, and then into her hard cold eyes. They were married , and still she did not bend down on wounded knee for surrender. He would force her, he would use sex to drive her to him...
"Love-" Nethan started.
"Do not call me that!" she sat up, those beautiful curves and legs adorned with the finest silk he could buy. It was her color... blue, powder blue to match her dark black hair, and gypsy eyes that were deep dark blue... so cold.
"Diane..." he smiled that mischevious smile she dispised. "Enough. Why must you protest? It is a fine night, let us not ruin it-"
She put up the table, forks, knifes, and candles spilling to the floor. It was a crash that reverberated throughout the restaurant, and picking up all eyes surrounding to watch the two beautiful people.
"Ah!" Nethan was cut by a flying knife, and he stumbled back. "b***h."
"That's better. I'm tired of you using me as your play thing... my father didn't know how horrible you were! As if I need a man to make my life worthwhile. I'm going to my father, I'm going to divorce you!"
"No..." he smiled, aware of the many eyes on them. "You will not... You do not know that you love me, you try to make yourself reject any personal feelings..."
She trembeled... he got her.
She sat in a chair, those words making her shy and quiet.
"Waiter!" Nathan grinned, calling out.
"Yes?" a plump man of greying hair came around.
"Can you move us? Our table..." he smiled at his wife, she smiled back.
"Oh yes... here, 31," the waiter led them to a table by the window, not in the center of the restaurant... and of attention.
"Nethan I need to use the ladies room," Diane stood up and brushed her dress, and moved off to the room with her silk purse at her side.
The waiter cocked an eyebrow, as he had been watching.
Nethan saw this and smiled.
"We've been married a decade, and we still fight like newly weds. Maybe it's some sort of cycle to keep our sex lives exciting?"
He took a sip of his expensive wine.
Section 3:
(((Does it have to be an evil mand? sweatdrop I'll use a man anyways...)))
Bloomings smiled at all his customers. Every single one. He loved all of them, they were such beautiful busy people. He enjoyed watching them bustle around the store, looking at what cereal to buy for tommorrows breakfast ("Will it be twix, oatmeal, frosted flakes Johnny?" wink or what chocolate muffins to buy (fat people are so beautiful!), or watching the breadmaster's assistant order the bagels as he twitched.
Bloomings bloomed when the customers called him a weirdo, he thought their opinions ravashing, absoluately intelligent and caring thoughts. He welcomed all, from the housewife who had to deal with a horrible husband and was a horrid hag herself, or the mischevious physcopathic boys who brought in dead cats and squirrels in and chopped them up with knifes from the kitchen wares department (they were road kill). He enjoyed everyone, and everything that was in the store, no matter what. It was easy to love people.
But it was just one day that didn't seem right. It wasn't raining, or cloudy, and no one was giving him a hard time. Then the boss just came up to him... It was the end of the day, shift almost over. Only a girl was here, he knew, and that was it... rarely any customers at 1:00 a.m.
"Are you staring into space you b*****d?" the boss screamed. "Stacy got her arm caught in the mean grinder! She's dead you son-of-a-b***h! Are you deaf or something? She must have been screaming her head off!"
But Bloomings only smiled. He liked his boss...
"Don't you understand ******** face?" his boss yelled, red in the face.
"You're fired."
You're fired. You're fired. You're fired. You're fired. You're-
Bloomings broke the glass case of the fire extinguisher behind him at the counter, took that axe, and cut off his employer's head off in one deadly violent action.
A clean cut, nice. That was perfect, pro. We can start all over again, shall we? Lets rape that girl outside looking at me, she'll be nice strung over the ground in pieces...
Section 4:
Sameth looked at himself in the fragmented mirror. That b*****d killed them all, but he knew it was all his fault. He was the one who had made the bomb, he was the one who couldn't remember... HE COULDN'T REMEMBER!
"I COULDN'T REMEMBER!" he cried, sobbing. His face was strained with pain, thinking about all those people... all those children, those hopeful little faces... all gone.
It was a complete genotism... a complete haluocaust... He was chosen to save all of them, to give them a chance, and he failed. That man mocked him as he burned away with all the rest... the one who passed the world, the earth to him, James Xion, master Nuclear weapon specailist of the CIA. The one who created a bomb a thousand times more powerful, able to cause a black hole in most cases. But it didn't this time, just swept the earth away into the black abyss.
He looked at the cindered world he knew, nothing but grew radioactive dust. It was too bright to look at, it glowed and swarmed. One step out there, and you'd die before you popped a skin new skin cell. You'd just melt in a second... a minture fraction... so fast...
He sobbed on and on, the maddening pain in his chest wouldn't go away. He couldn't remember the code, and he had only three tries before time was up. He failed the world. Destroyer of the innocent, as he tried to save them.
All his fault. In this glass tube he wished he could get out a die, but it wouldn't let him out. The man who harnessed the bomb, the man in the loud speaker was mad... and he made sure that James Xion would go mad too...
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