Every time I find the right moment to write, there is either no computer available and/or it's dead. Sometimes, like lately, I have felt the sudden desirable urges to write gothic, sooty, dark image paragraphs. So if you please to read further, I shall open my writing skills to you for your enjoyment and/or disgusted boredomness.
Through the darkness they came, their wings of death beating at the air with rugged strokes. The creatures flew towards a small town, the impenetrable darkness that they secrete seeping into the stars, killing off each and every one until the entire night sky was a black oblivion. As they passed over the town, children's dreams crept towards nightmares, strong men screamed in fear, dogs wailed pitiously at their tormentors. The moon, full and gold, slowly became drenched in a ruby colour as the blood of thousands of innocent victims was splashed viciously against its surface. Screams, some mental, most verbal rent the night air, becoming the song of death, the song in which the creatures knew all too well........
Andrea Rea-Anne · Fri Mar 25, 2005 @ 03:29pm · 0 Comments |