Writing Piece 1#

Hey everyone!!


well, I've been wanting to put a piece of my writing on here.. so here is my first one, I wrote it up a few days ago. Oh, I want to mention, my pieces are usually dark or eeyerie hehe. They're usually about a dark character discovering the light or a hero defeating evil. For once I just chose a random character and started to write with him. Please let me know what you think!!

The night rang with silence and the little pedigen fat with gruesome food it scrapped off the trampled ground flap its weak little wings to raise its chubby body off the ground and to fly into the unknown. The soft breeze came to gather the man’s clothes and the slipped away, leaving only a trace of a cold chill down his spine.
He stood there with nothing to do and nowhere to go. His eyes were turned toward the horizon, studying the shadow the grey clouds cast over the gloomy city. He studied the shadows that twisted to fit into the tightest corners. He studied the stray cat that scurried its frail body to hide in the gutter. He studied and wondered. Who died?
Then he was sent off. His black greasy hair bouncing thickly in the chill breeze. His eyes were narrow slits with a glint of malice that shined like white teeth in the shadow and his hands were bunched in his ragged picket and his shoulders were hunched as though pushing against the wind that wasn’t there.
He was only seventeen years of age. He lived far from the city in a log three story houses that sat cupped in a valley. Nature touched all corners of his house he shared with his parents, but there was something about that house that was different, as for that however, that will be a different time.
He didn’t travel here on a foot, nor did he hitch hike with a fat truck driver with chew tobacco. He didn’t take a cab here ether because no driver would know where his house was. Instead he took his Volvo; his mustang would be saved for a more pleasurable day.
The interesting thing is, he thought harshly while listening to the metal on his shoes scrap against the stone as he walked and his robes playing with the slight breeze. He never knew his parents, nor did he have any desire. He knew how they looked thanks to the portraits that lined one of the hallways. He knew one had a taste for Asian decorations while another had a taste in African status. An odd taste for mixture, yes. He couldn’t ask the servants about them. They were mute or at least pretended to be and he saw a new face every day. However the story of the reason why will be for later.

(i'll be getting a fanfiction account soon)

thanks

AB