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by Panda Coffee 1/4/2012, 3:06 pmI'm writing an original story but I'm not sure it's worth finishing. So could you guys judge it for me please?
Prologue:
My name is Salem, I have no last name. I don't need it where I live. We don't use last names, whenever someone wants to know something about you, well they shoot first and ask questions later.
There's one rule where I live; don't ask questions and you won't get dead, most of the time at least. The people who do ask questions usually end up a smear on the road or a pile of bones in the swamps. I guess that Purgatory is a little harsh on the soul.
There are three types of creatures that live down here, the dead for one. They are pesky little buggers, but if you know how to deal with them then you'll live. They could be anything from zombies to the occasional wraithe. Both of which could be put down by a little garlic powder and a bit of silver.
But round two was a tiny bit harder to deal with. That's when the bigger beasties came out, the Werewolves, the Faeries, even the Deimons. The Deimens were the worst of those, they could be anything from a Vampyre to an actual red-eyed creep. But again, these were easy if you knew just the right buttons to push.
But the creatures like me, well those were the ones to keep an eye on. The Deathbringers we were called, or more commonly known as the Shadowalkers. At least with the other inhabitants of Purgatory you knew what you were dealing with, the danger level. But with our different abilities and southern hospotality you never knew if we were going to stab a knife into your back or serve you tea.
But there are a couple things in common between the Shadowalkers, we all had a chalky complexion. It was a killer when you were trying to get a date with some cute Werewolf, but it got the job done when you were trying to intimidate. And then there is the whole supernatural power thing, but we can get to that later. Finally, all of us Shadowalkers are forced to consume the thing we fight to conserve. Darkness.
Welcome to Hell.
Prologue:
My name is Salem, I have no last name. I don't need it where I live. We don't use last names, whenever someone wants to know something about you, well they shoot first and ask questions later.
There's one rule where I live; don't ask questions and you won't get dead, most of the time at least. The people who do ask questions usually end up a smear on the road or a pile of bones in the swamps. I guess that Purgatory is a little harsh on the soul.
There are three types of creatures that live down here, the dead for one. They are pesky little buggers, but if you know how to deal with them then you'll live. They could be anything from zombies to the occasional wraithe. Both of which could be put down by a little garlic powder and a bit of silver.
But round two was a tiny bit harder to deal with. That's when the bigger beasties came out, the Werewolves, the Faeries, even the Deimons. The Deimens were the worst of those, they could be anything from a Vampyre to an actual red-eyed creep. But again, these were easy if you knew just the right buttons to push.
But the creatures like me, well those were the ones to keep an eye on. The Deathbringers we were called, or more commonly known as the Shadowalkers. At least with the other inhabitants of Purgatory you knew what you were dealing with, the danger level. But with our different abilities and southern hospotality you never knew if we were going to stab a knife into your back or serve you tea.
But there are a couple things in common between the Shadowalkers, we all had a chalky complexion. It was a killer when you were trying to get a date with some cute Werewolf, but it got the job done when you were trying to intimidate. And then there is the whole supernatural power thing, but we can get to that later. Finally, all of us Shadowalkers are forced to consume the thing we fight to conserve. Darkness.
Welcome to Hell.
- Chapter 1:
My muscles quivered with excitement, coiled tight as a spring ready to release. The toes of my boots dug deep into the ground and pushed forward, giving me the momentum I needed to lauch ten feet into the air. Pain rippled through my shoulders as ebony feathers pushed their way through the skin and my bones began to reform. I closed my eyes as a wave of complete agony shot from every part of my body at once and the change was done.
A man below me groaned in pain, stirring. I lifted my wings, watching them all with the beady eyes of a raven. Several men, maybe half a dozen, lay crumpled on the ground where my psycic blast had left them shrieking in agony. Each of them had been armed with military-grade handguns and some nasty-looking silver daggers. Man, had those stung.
I braced my wings against the wind and headed for home.
ɸ ɸ ɸ
Death. It filled the air, it filled every crevice. No amount of the pricy air freshener or filter would get rid of it. It was the only thing I didn't like about Purgatory, the never-ending stench that filled my every pore. But the darkness inside of me loved it, loved the feeling of my dagger sliding between my latest victim's ribs, the hot blood pouring over my hand and making it sticky and slick with the red life. The dry rattle in my victim's chest as their life left them. I loved it all.
But at the same time I hated it. I hated it with everything in my blackend, stone-cold heart. But it was the only thing I had. It was the only way I could survive.
I had to steal souls.
Last edited by Panda Coffee on 1/14/2012, 1:38 am; edited 1 time in total
