AQOTWF #3

The warrior dragged the heavy sword which weighted its burden against the stone floor and his right hand. His voice of panic filled the empty halls and echoed back at him, as he choked out each and every cold spastic breath. His walk become short and wearily as he ventured down the dark dim halls, his vision blackening and his strength draining. The hemorrhage in his head throbbed and with each blow, saturated his brain in a dark dense fog, as the halls around him turned into an endless looping maze, drawing him closer to the darkness. But for each step he drew the weak lingering darkness strangulated him, as his eyes blanked and darted back and forth constantly looking over his shoulder for the darkness which crept behind him like a juggernaut, waiting to strike at his injuries. The warrior was lost, for he knew not why his group came into the maze, beside for the promise of treasure and fortune. He was confused, lost in thought and darkness. His legs collapsed below him before he dropped down, to sit amongst the cold desolate floor. The warrior gripped the heavy burden near him and drew in short deep breaths, the darkness moaning in the distance, scratching near his ear, causing trauma to his head. “What am I to do? No one told me how to fight IT. I don’t want to be here! This isn’t what the old man told me how it would be! I am alone! Alone to die! My FRIENDS left me to die! Not to help! The warriors gasped and choked, as the moaning began to grow louder. Nothing trained him to fight against the darkness. Nothing taught him to fight it. For it was a lost cause to fight DEMONS, they were never the same. As the darkness moaned even louder and drew closer to the warrior, preparing to strike at the warrior wearily heart. The warrior only smiled at the darkness as if he met his old friend.

AQOTWF 2

Expectation in life is always set high above us, influencing the way we act and the way we can recover from it. In the novel, “All Quiet on the Western Front” by Erich Maria Remarque, chapter two depicts how people’s expectations in events in people’s lives can metaphorically suffocate their perspectives of what they hope to see. Remarque uses the theme of drowning and water to imitate the sense of confusing from what they expected. “My thoughts become confused… It is a thick gruel, it suffocates.” (29). Paul and his classmate begin the war expecting the fight to be easy, but in the end they only became boys again, unable to cope with death and fighting. They feel trapped in and breathless due to the war which sweeps they away like a powerful wave of water.

DJAMR #4

A.N: I have no idea what I am doing.... Still next post is going to suck along with the rest of the other posts. But anyways I'm going to try and write a short story with the theme of inner evil and duality. Expect a lot of grammar errors and other things along with that... I really need to focus. "Cease and Desist!" The policeman stared somberly down at the protester who was hindered by the fog and the smoke. The drops of water racing down the thick strong plastic face guard as the protester, no older than his son, whom raised his knife dreadfully at the him, backing away mercifully into the dark ground. The policeman with a confidant and reasonable voice spoke loudly like a kid yelling: "I repeat! Cease and Desist!" "We have rights! You can't do this." The riot police made a grim face and shook his head in pain as he shuddered weakly inside, before lifting the long heavy metal rod and then began to strike savagely against the soft skull of the protester. The protester's body flung up and down against the weak pavement with each delicate blow. The protester body stood still as the policeman continued to strike and strike against the soft head with resistance. The blood splashed softly against the guard and raced slowly down. The policeman man eye's moved around in the mist lost for a moment as he breathed like a beast. While the blood rushed in the policeman's body filling his hunger for rage, and quenched his thirst for action, before reverting back into a clam state of relaxation, and sorrow. The policeman fell to his knees and looked at the protester in disbelief. Through the white smoke the policeman poked the body with a sense of curiosity and childlike sense. The water drops began to mist inside his helmet as the smoke moved around. The policeman stood up tall and proud before sheepishly speaking: "He'll be fine." The policeman stood with his strong pose and began to totter down the fogged street waving the heavy rod in the rain, ready to play again.

DJAMH #3

[A/n: I have not the slightest clue of what I am doing... So I decided to write a side story from one of the servant who worked for Jekyll. The servant will not have a name (adding to mysteries I guess.) Sorry this is rushed. The boy was recently hired, not knowing about the darkness which lingered at the top of the stairs. He walked softly on the long red burgundy stairs, carrying the silver tray between his slims fingers. The pigmentation on his skin drained slowly from his skin as he walked close to the top of the red stairs. The light which illuminated the stairs grew darker as the reach the top, striking fear and bring out sweat from the boy's soul. The boy reach the top of the stair, he glanced backward behind his shoulder, the floor below seemed ground which mortal walk upon. The boy took a deep gulp of air and walk towards the red baize door, holding the tray silver tray in his hands. As he reached the red baize door he knocked softly against the door. Only to hear the response of heavy breathing. The door did not move, only the noise of heavy breathing. The boy knocked harder on the strange entity. The door did move for the child. The boy frowned, confused by the action from the other side, and knocked even harder. The door opened only to get the door open with a slight crack with a monster peering back and a loose smile. The tray dropped hard and shatter on the red oak floor as the boy stumbled back and fell back to earth.

Jekyll and hyde 2

Dr. Jekyll sedulously slammed the heavy window down upon its dense brittle wooden frame, locking the window with the iron bolt, before struggling to move towards the cracked stained mirror in his room. With dark empty eyes he peered into the clarifying reflective mirror, and anatomical observed his face as the right side of his was being encumbered by darkness, flowing out of an eddy in his eye. The structure of his skull became jagged and smooth under his skin, as his stomach undulated and barred during his hellish transformation. Hyde peered back at him through the dark black moist fog, grinned menacingly back at Jekyll. He stepped out of the mirror and faced the scared doctor. He walked over to the hearth in the room, before blocking the light with the dark fog. “You’re not me Hyde! Get out of here you are not wanted.” “My dear Jekyll” sneered Hyde, “I am you? Can’t you accept that? You have to get past your insecurities and join me.” In a sharp response Jekyll sheepishly murmured “I shall not you demon; you are nothing but a sinister demon in my heart! Leave me be!” Hyde peered sinisterly at Jekyll with a callous look in his eyes, and morphed into the darkness around the room. Jekyll shudder in cold fear, as his heart slow down to a stop, and as his blood flowed cold and sluggish throughout his veins. “Dr. Jekyll, my dear friend, you have to accept the darkness as a friend not an enemy you can’t keep running away.” The darkness distinguished itself from the shadows and took a solid form, which then dispersed in a line of ash throughout the enclosed room. The dark essences of the ash climbed cruelly up the Doctors noise and diffused inside his lungs, flowing inside his veins warming his heart. The hearth in the room lit up, the darkness removed itself from the room and out of sight, hidden from the doctor.

Jekyell and Hyde #1

In Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde there is a motive on negative human emotions, like feelings of greed, and temptation. With these feelings there is often feelings of emptiness , or quasi monster feelings that make us strive for more and more, to attempt to fill up the empty spaces inside us, as we try to quench it with greed it, or to be prideful of our works which often leaves us prone to temptation to engulf more for our own self satisfaction, as to say “fill up our empty needs with false happiness”.

The door is a perfect metaphor for my point in which I’m trying to get across. Behind a close door we know nothing, but yet our curiosity sparks interest in which we want to know what lays dormant behind it. We are tempted to know and that feeling build and build until we feel empty and can only feel satisfied when our curiosity is lock away, but only for a short amount of time.

But when we don’t satisfy our own emptiness or monster like feelings that harbor inside us , it leads us to change. Our personality becomes more grotesque, our looks become “ugly that it brought out the sweat on me like running” causing us to strive, lashing out on our greed. Mr. Hyde is an example of unbound greed or temptation, his physical features are one of a demon, the way he talks to Utterson is described as “hissing” or "savage" laugh. These similar features of a demon is perfect symbolism because the devil which is associated with the 7 deadly sins, tries to tempt us into one of them.

Wanted for act's against the church, and laws of science

After failed results for an experiment. Mr hyde went to the extreme.
To improve Mr.Hyde's result, the dissection was done again.

Author Note

If a soldier steps on a landmine and no one is around to see him blow up... Will the land mine explode?

Rebirth

Rebirth
The soft muddy ground on Christmas day gave little support as the soldier stood still at attention as a small metal noise scratched and scraped at his ear. He stared suspiciously down upon his right black beaten boots; shifted his weight, and bent forward peering on to what he had stepped on. Below his right foot was a small rusted brown metallic cake like disk, about the size of a small plate, meshed loosely in the muddy ground.
Inside, his chest expanded and filled with noxious gas, his rib cage imploded, and as his heart struggled to pump blood throughout his body; as each intake of cold air disappeared before diffusing inside his lungs; as his organs within his body flailed and malfunctioned, struggling to support him; as he pulled the collar around his strangulating neck. Nervously, he raised his rough right hand against his helmet lifting it; before touching the soft smooth skin on his forehead, and then touched the top of his chest and both sides of his shoulders. In a ceremoniously tone the soldier utter for help:
“Sweet Angel above me, can you please help?”
The soldier bent forward slowly sliding the rubber outsole of his boot with a gentle passion above the ravaged disk. Underneath his rubble outsole imprinted heavily with black paint on the top of the degrading metallic disk was R-1r74. It was all rustic brown, flanking in tender wafts where beads of the metal had been weld.
The soldier was very frightened, frightened for his life. For life seemed to stop for him. The trees which were enclosed around him stop dead from the violent rustling. As the clouds sped by, overhead the doves which lay perched upon the decaying trees stopped to stare upon the doomed soldier. His struggling heart bleed out, pounding violently against his chest smashing within his chest as he bled out a few tears. He had stepped upon his inevitable doom and judgment; he had walked onto an antipersonnel landmine.
***
Adam Walton head was in the sky as he stared loathingly upon the landmine onto which he had helplessly had stepped on. There was nothing in his power which he could do; lifting pressure off the trigger would cause his death, sending him exploding back down to earth, where the worms would eat though his brain. All he could do was stare into the rusty metal death trap which he had unknowingly stepped on, and wait what could be centuries in this vast emptiness in pure isolation.
The trees stood still as time was altered, the sun began to set and rise in a fantastic organic blaze which streaked across the cloudy skies. The doves died down. Adam Walton was left alone with his thoughts as he glazed depressively upon the clouds and the laughing landmine.
He thought: I “Death is only a step away, and yet maybe I’ll be alright. The mine below could be damaged; faulty wiring, delayed timers, the rust which could have slowly eaten away at the insides of the mine. Or maybe the mine isn’t here at all, just a pre-detonated one, the other soldiers came back injured with only ONE blown off limb, it could have been ONE from yesterday. I could easily jump backwards, which could cause minimal damage to my body allowing me to escape! Oh please, God!”
The mine below him felt loose in the soil and looked slightly incinerated to him. All he had to do was step off the scraped steel, and then execute the plan in his head. Just step off and roll back and go back to home. He could imagine walking back with small wounds and cuts, and possibly missing limb, creeping cautiously among the tall grass, looking keen for landmines, until he reached the base of the forest. There he could run or crawl among the trees until he found home. Then sit down and read a few letters from his family, friends, and his wife Eve, or dreadfully he thought, obtain medical attention.
The reinsuring images comfort his bamboozled mind; he believed that his faith rested in god’s hand now. He held his breath, closed his eyes, said a quick prayer, added more pressure to both of his legs, and then prepared to take off and fly. The doves watched quietly as Adam prepared to fly. But time froze around him as well as his muscles, he choked, his heart blasted then sank within his chest, as his stomach undulated, creating a feeling of nausea. The bones in his stomach undulated inside him. He tipped from front to back trying to keep balance, then snapped right back to attention, as he cleared his foggy mind. He knew he was lying to himself. The landmine was in fact intact, and armed.
“This is your fault God! I can’t do this, I’m too weak! Are you even there?!? I THOUGH YOU WOULD PROTECT ME OUT HERE! I WANT TO LIVE!”
Adam Walton was in a sudden stimulated state of rage. He ripped off the helmet savagely, and scratched skin fiercely off his head. His faced burned bright red like a fired tracer as he cursed God’s very name, swearing loudly. The angelic doves which had watched him in grave silence from the dead trees, chirped in terror from his yelling, which brought the trees back to life as the doves shot out screaming.
The poignant noise of doves threw Adam off guard. The doves flew towards him, the sounds violent in strength and sharpness. His head savagely turned in anger towards the doves flying overhead; the doves’ screeching sound imitated the sound of raining hellfire deceiving Adam’s perception alerting panic within him. His right leg gave way, as his boot scratched away at the metal plate, causing him to fall down back to the damp earth. The doves flew away into the orange sky, as pure white feathers wafted slowly down to the ground. The world stopped again, the trees stopped rustling, the sun stopped setting, and the soldier lay quietly outstretched with his body in a cross, his face had landed down upon the damp earth. The burning irritating sensations under his skin dampen down to a soothing sensation with cool contact from the earth.
Slowly, he lifted his head and opened his eyes gently as he lay upon the earth. The wind slowly blew across his body the grass and flowers moved slowly from side to side. He was in a dazed state. Up in the sky the clouds blinded him from the ground. His heart blasted and slowly chugged down to a pause. He peered around him and observed the unfamiliar surroundings, the bright intense sun finally settled down, and the stars slowly shined seductively. All around him the earth dampen down and was laid to peace with the shadows. He was safe. Safe for the night, for the night emitted a clam and peaceful feeling.
“Oh thank you God oh thank you.”
Adam again question the fate of the landmine, to him the landmine was a nothing but a fake. The less he pondered the tragic event the more he can forget. And forgetting was good, for it could no longer harm him. From the moist ground Adam was surrounded by shadows of the night he then lifted his body up from the mud, and was ready to go back to home, back to what he thought was safe.
As he pulled himself up Adam’s heart was lifted from his body as he exploded. Sharp pieces of shrapnel pierced into his heart and penetrated like deep fierier arrows. Adam lay again on his back, his body laid upon the ground in a cross, as his eyes searched the heavens while ashes rained down from the sky. Lifting his head observing the empty cavity inside his chest and the smell of burnt flesh and gunpowder drifted into his nostrils comforting him. His pinned hands gripped the inside of his charred ribcage, feeling around for his organs, before yelling furiously in horrid pain as he felt until his fingers gripped an loose unknown object in his abdomen. As his vision blacken and drifted from light to dark, he drowsily lifted his head from the soft ground to peer at what his scarred hands held. Inside his loose grip he held a clean smooth pearl white rib. Adam starred confused into the foreign bone, for it seemed to be removed from his rib cage in a perfect cut, but added inside him by a higher entity. Adam dropped his head back down screamed in unrelenting anguish; and place his hands to the ground perpendicular to his blasted battered body and struggled to mutter a single prayer before closed his eyes as the color drained slowly from his skin, and as the unbearable pain drained to a soothing slumber.
In the black mud laid a crater filled with blasted serrated shrapnel and a detonated mine. A devious dove drove down by his head, searching the scattered scarred ground before picking up a small portion of burnt flesh discarded by his body, and flew towards the heavens and into the a dark luminous light shining in the clouds.