Post by Horror Story on Jan 28, 2013 15:30:42 GMT -5
January 3rd.
I've returned to...my place of residence.
I was in Gotham City tonight, checking out some leads when I stumbled upon a sight. A man in a mask. But he was more than that. He was a man with muscle and brains behind that metal mouth which held in his voice and made it metallic and hollow. Talking to a cyborg. An intelligent being that had no soul but had mastered intelligence. Unfortunately he'd also mastered my element, my livelihood, my essence.
The dark.
It irked me, shook me and annoyed me when I couldn't break inside of his mind and find the crying child within. To find that bone deep seed of emotion that all of the living had, that I was lacking. That element of fear. I couldn't feel it, not in my veins not in my gut. I'd longed for this feeling and now I had nothing.
But enough about me. This...toxic ooze of darkness which massed itself in my psyche, which wouldn't go away. Here he was planted on my brain like a tumor. Those hollow words which sounded so seductive and sweet yet demanding and powerful. Uncaring and yet forceful. It was enough to make a girl go crazy.
So what's your story, sir? Where's that crying child, that worried teen, that adult who still checks under his bed and in his closet for fear of a monster coming out and strangling him. Who is this guy and why am I so intrigued? Am I feeling something that's not forced amusement or anger? Is something stirring in this corpse, some sort of determination? Someone explain to me what this is I'm feeling.
Maybe I'll ask Nightmare the next time I see her.
Until Next Time,
Horror Story
I've returned to...my place of residence.
I was in Gotham City tonight, checking out some leads when I stumbled upon a sight. A man in a mask. But he was more than that. He was a man with muscle and brains behind that metal mouth which held in his voice and made it metallic and hollow. Talking to a cyborg. An intelligent being that had no soul but had mastered intelligence. Unfortunately he'd also mastered my element, my livelihood, my essence.
The dark.
It irked me, shook me and annoyed me when I couldn't break inside of his mind and find the crying child within. To find that bone deep seed of emotion that all of the living had, that I was lacking. That element of fear. I couldn't feel it, not in my veins not in my gut. I'd longed for this feeling and now I had nothing.
But enough about me. This...toxic ooze of darkness which massed itself in my psyche, which wouldn't go away. Here he was planted on my brain like a tumor. Those hollow words which sounded so seductive and sweet yet demanding and powerful. Uncaring and yet forceful. It was enough to make a girl go crazy.
So what's your story, sir? Where's that crying child, that worried teen, that adult who still checks under his bed and in his closet for fear of a monster coming out and strangling him. Who is this guy and why am I so intrigued? Am I feeling something that's not forced amusement or anger? Is something stirring in this corpse, some sort of determination? Someone explain to me what this is I'm feeling.
Maybe I'll ask Nightmare the next time I see her.
Until Next Time,
Horror Story