Vincent awoke later than expected from his well earned sleep, his father had already started to toil the fields outside without him, which was unusual. Vincent quickly put on his clothes and made haste towards the ancient redwood outside which his burly father was waiting for him underneath, which also seemed odd. The bottoms of his trousers scuffing along the carpet and with his shirt half buttoned up, Vincent scurried past his mother baking bread in the kitchen. Vincent didn’t think about this at the time but this was also very odd too, he was too concerned with how he would apologize to his father, who was usually very strict and like any parent usually had a bad habit of waking Vincent up in the morning in the worst possible manner.
By midday Vincent had started to worry, his father hadn’t spoken a word to him all morning, told him off for sleeping in late or even smiled at him. As the young boy was strolling back to the house for a glass of water he turned around to look at their hard mornings work, noticing something very peculiar, a small trickle of crimson blood dripping down from his father’s right palm, his palm closely gripped in a ball as his father stubbornly continued to work the fields. Vincent was too disturbed by his parents’ ill behavior this morning to even approach his distracted father and ask what happened; so the young boy decided to ask his mother instead who was usually far more talkative than his father.
The young boys’ mother was dicing some meaty looking substance for their lunch, Vincent was never too sure what exactly his mother was about to cook and when he figured it out it was usually some sort of strange surprise. Vincent couldn’t see his mothers’ green eyes as she leaned over the cutting board, her long red hair draping down over her face, her right hand firmly placed on top of the bench while she diced with the other hand. When Vincent’s mother looked up to see him standing in the doorway she smiled reluctantly, but it was a smile nether the less, her hand loosened up as if she was relieved to see him so Vincent’s worries about his parents subsided for now. Their brief conversation about his father and her husband was nothing more than the usual. Vincent’s mother reassured him that all was fine; like any good mother would do and then decided to go outside into the sweltering heat to speak with her husband. Vincent’s newly reassured eyes followed his mothers’ footsteps across the room as she headed for the door.
The young boy looked back to what his mother was dicing and noticed a distinct smear of blood across the counter where his mothers hand lay moments before. At the time he didn’t recognize the faint symbol smeared within the blood. Vincent peered down closer to inspect this queer looking symbol. Relaxed at first he gently felt himself being pulled in towards the smear of blood, for a moment he stared at the symbol; mildly amused at the coincidence. It was a five sided star. Suddenly he felt a tight grip around his neck pulling him down like a dog on a leash towards the star, the boy was young and feeble, he panicked and strained his neck in the opposite direction barely breaking free of the tight grasp. Vincent; horrified and struggling for breath ran down the corridor away from the kitchen into his room, slamming the door behind him. He pressed his back against the cold wooden door regaining his breath but even then he could still feel a faint tug wanting him to venture back out into the kitchen.
Shrugging the feeling off, Vincent approached the window in his room to breathe the fresh spring air outside; he managed to convince himself that it must have been the sweltering heat outside that he was laboring under all morning, that and the lack of water.
Vincent stared out over the green fields and past the ancient redwood trees, over near the swamp and up over the dirt road. He didn’t see any sign of his parents at all. Cautiously Vincent ventured outside; taking a different route that wasn’t through the dreaded kitchen, out his window. He climbed out down the rafters like a small monkey and onto a tree branch, being a young child he was quite fond of climbing trees, this one especially as the redwoods were far too tall to climb. A short walk later Vincent stood under the shade of one of the giant redwoods; still not in view of his parents; squinting at the horizon around him searching for even the faintest impression that may be a person but to no avail. In the next few hours he searched tirelessly around his home and even within the house itself, taking extra care to deviate his route around the blood stained bench.
His shoes were not designed for walking in the thick creek mud but Vincent was too distracted at this point to care, he ran down through the creek; wading into the water which rose to his waist. There he stood still in the middle of the creek with the water still rushing around him. He stared up through the dense swamp like canopy, as if waiting for a sign from God almighty himself to show him where his parents had went. Vincent stood in the creek for many minutes desperately waiting for that sign, but nothing came. Then barely audible over the rushing sound of the water; he heard a faint whisper as the trees swayed in the wind above. He was too tired at first to hear it, too tired from the hours of relentless searching, his mind too feeble at that present to care. Slowly the distracting sounds of nature around him subsided but one whisper remained; slowly growing louder in Vincent’s ears. Suddenly a voice hit the young boy, a clear crisp but dry whisper that echoed throughout Vincent’s entire body. ”Adveho hactenus parvulus”
Vincent started to become disorientated and paranoid; he ran up on the neighboring embankment nearly tripping several times; his water clogged shoes weighing him down as he scattered for the closest shelter he could find. For many hours Vincent lay still in the darkness enshrouded within the entrance of the dank cave, waiting for something to happen that would reassure him. The sun was now setting rapidly as evening started to encroach upon him; yet he was still too terrified to leave his newly found home.
Several hours had passed away. At this point Vincent had started to lapse in and out of consciousness, becoming delirious with exhaustion and increasingly paranoid. When he finally fully regained consciousness; he found himself deep within the narrow twisting passages of the cave, not knowing how he had traveled this far. He didn’t seem to be worried initially as he had ventured this far into the cave before with his father. He assumed that the small dim glow at the end of the tunnel lead back outside to the creek so he slowly started to crawl towards the golden light. Vincent started to grow worried as time passed, he had been crawling for several minutes through the dank rocky cave and had not seemed too had made any progress towards the outside world; several small cuts now grazed across his knees went unnoticed as he started to crawl even faster. What sounded like an echoing scream at first startled Vincent, and then he realized that it was just his stomach for he had not eaten in near a day. Vincent had become so distracted with the golden glow which always seemed to be just out of his reach; that he had somehow managed to ignore the strong smell of freshly baked bread wafting down the narrow tunnel towards him. To Vincent’s disbelief the small golden glow started to shimmer but then vanished, engulfing poor Vincent in a shroud of absolute darkness. The young boy tried to keep calm and reassess the situation as he now became ever increasingly worried. He was stuck in a dark, dank, rocky narrow passageway on his hands and knees; which were scrapped and bruised. There was absolutely no light around him whatsoever and the air was becoming increasingly stale, he did not know which way was outside as he could not even remember venturing this far into the tunnel to begin with. Vincent lay silent for several minutes trying to remember the exact events which led to him being trapped within the cave. The strong smell of fresh bread had subsided now, Vincent started to question his sanity; was he just imagining the smell of the bread just like the whisper he had imagined before? Tears started to roll down the poor child’s face, he felt utterly useless, trapped, and alone within this nightmarish tomb. Where had his parents gone? Why was God testing him? How did he get inside this cave? At the top of his lungs the child screamed out his parents names but to no avail for they were not listening, nobody was.
By now Vincent had lost track of time with only his own delirious paranoid thoughts to keep himself company, he had lost most sensation over his body as he lay there on his back; he felt as if he was floating in an eternal sea of darkness; waiting for death. Tiny high pitch squeaks in the child’s ears and the faint pitter-patter of water dripping woke up Vincent from his state of purgatory. What Vincent had assumed was a cold wet cave rat was lying on his chest; elongating its head and sniffing the breath coming from the boy’s mouth. ”Hello Vincent, I’ve been following you for some time now; Vincent, Vincent, Vincent? Oh poor Vincent… nyehhh”
Vincent didn’t panic or try to escape, the boy just stared down into the darkness at his chest where the rat would of been sitting. This voice wasn’t the dry whisper he had heard before in the swamp, it sounded more hysterical, on the verge of tears yet full of pleasure.
”Humans, so feeble, doomed to repeat themselves over and over and over again…without question, their minds tainted so easily, ever, ever so easily you know? Every human sees himself as something special, something… unique, and something greater than what he actually is…
”Nothing…” whispered in the Vincent’s ear.
”These delusions of grandeur are just illusions you know? Every human and their idea of… god, who will save them… such a delusion; such, such… because who will save you now? Me!? His voice had become increasingly manic, alternating between whispering, screaming and explosions of joy; filled with a sadistic pleasure, he was a cat toying with the innocent mouse; Vincent. ”Will I?” his scream echoed down the narrow tunnel,”I won’t!” The rat whispered again in the trapped boy’s ear,”Should I?” Vincent lay there, silent and still while the voice chuckled and murmured to itself. Eventually the voice subsided and left the poor helpless boy alone to die in his cavernous tomb. Vincent finally jolted back to reality, but at first he was still unable to move his muscles properly. Slowly sensations started to re-immerge all over Vincent’s body; pins and needles at first; throughout his arms and legs. Squinting his eyes as hard and as long as he could, optimistically praying that he would wake up in his soft bed, in his safe warm home. He could no longer feel the furry wet rat plopped on his chest. With a sigh of relief as more sensations finally started to flow back into Vincent’s now bruised and battered body; the tormented boy opened his strained eyes.
What he saw now would forever change him; further fracture his freshly warped and twisted mind. Monolithic pillars as high above as the eye could see, and on these unearthly structures were chained men; with metal chains and hooks gouging and tearing at their naked flesh. Each man was crucified with several hooks and chains, each on their own cross which connected back to the pillar. Each man was screaming in agony, begging for a death which would never arrive. The sheer momentous height of these structures spanned far above the reddish glow of the sky that swirled far above Vincent’s face. The poor boy was in shock, too feeble to stand up on his own will; he merely turned his head to the right and the left to inspect his new surroundings. Vincent squinted, his vision blurred, he was exhausted and could barely make the outline of what appeared to be a well. Disregarding what he had just seen in the torturous mist above, he ignored the screams and started to crawl towards the well; his face looking away from the horrors above. The poor boy finally reached the well; he ran his fingers along the cold stones around the rim then tried to make his attempt to stand. Vincent knew that if he couldn’t reach the water inside he would certainly die; so with all the strength he possessed he forced himself to stand. Shakily, he leant against the stone well making sure not to look upwards. Learning over the well he cupped his hands and dunked them under the water; lifting his hands to his mouth he noticed the water was dark and muddy but the starved boy didn’t care. His legs were shacking violently underneath him as he leaned over the well, barely keeping his balance but as he drank more he was already starting to regain some strength. Not noticing the peculiar taste of the water; he carried on drinking. After a few handfuls Vincent sighed with a short-lived relief; still exhausted he slumped over the well. He watched the ripples in the water slowly shimmer and disappear but with fresh drops dripping down from above into the well, Vincent did not notice. ”Vincent!”
His head jolted up towards the direction of the familiar voice as an instinct before he had time to reconsider. It was then that he realized that his father and mother were both chained with barbed hooks and spikes; upside down their heads dangled only a few feet from his head. They appeared to be unconscious. Their mutilated faces barely recognizable, their body’s barely intact dripping blood into the well below. He looked back up, shock, horror, no words could explain, this was the embodiment of all which was evil. Mechanical sounds of cogs and levels blasted in Vincent’s ears, so loud it drowned out the sounds of the deathly screams from above. The chains wrapped around his parents chest and throughout their bodies started to tighten. Hooks in their wrists and palms stretched their skin ripping out the muscle in their forearms, the chain burrowed behind their shins started to splinter the bone in front; bursting it through the skin. Vincent stumbled backwards, starring up at his parent’s gruesome deaths; he was screaming as loud as he could yet the sound of machinery at work drowned out his futile attempts. These chains and hooks which penetrated through their backs and around each individual ribcage started to move now, slowly at first they snapped each rip bone separating their chests then ripping the naked flesh of their torsos, they broke free. The half rotting insides of his parents splashed into the well.
All was dark. Vincent was safe now, safe within his own mind. He felt anew, reborn within a womb of delusional and irrational thoughts that were somehow not his own. Yet they were inside his head. Split down the centre, the two parts of Vincent’s fractured mind gained a rare introspection into the mind of each other. He hated himself, the power hungry person he was and the feeble child he had become. Within the deepest part his mind the feeble child had been caged, occasionally fed, starved of warmth and light while his new dominator ruled over his thoughts. The caged boy thought of his family and how he longed to see them again whilst the dominator reminded him of the horrors that became of them. The rat had returned, nibbling on the left over morsels of his sanity. ”I’ve saved you now Vincent, isn’t this; this here! What you have always dreamt of?” Silence. ”Well! Isn’t it!” the voice boomed in Vincent’s ears. This wasn’t like before, the fear that his voice installed upon Vincent was unbearable, it was inside his mind, invading every thought. ”Humans, Ants, their life and death… Life, pointless life without power, in fact…You should consider yourself blessed! …The shattered, fractured, tormented shreds of your mind and soul are mine now Vincent and I will do with them as I wish!” His voice sounded more childlike than before, then Vincent realized that it was slowly morphing into his own, but he lay there; within his mind he had accepted defeat a long time ago. As Vincent’s last individual thought reverberated throughout his now stolen, dying consciousness he wandered if he would ever see the light again.
I think I made this a bit too long to expect people to read it.... I would of wrote a story involving Diablo lore but i havent read any of the books so i wouldnt know if it conflicted
Did anyone read this? Its really not that long. I shouldn't of put "2800 Words" in the title of the thread. It probably put alot of people of
This thread had 305 views and only 3 replies so I thought that at least a few other people must of read it?
Very detailed writing. The context is good, your use of vocabulary is spotless in most cases, although I did see a few things that could be rephrased. Also, I think you meant to type "wondered" instead of "wandered" in the last sentence.
You surpass my writing hands down. In general, I like this short work because of its style. Its just a lot easier to criticize than to compose at the end
Yay Thank You
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By midday Vincent had started to worry, his father hadn’t spoken a word to him all morning, told him off for sleeping in late or even smiled at him. As the young boy was strolling back to the house for a glass of water he turned around to look at their hard mornings work, noticing something very peculiar, a small trickle of crimson blood dripping down from his father’s right palm, his palm closely gripped in a ball as his father stubbornly continued to work the fields. Vincent was too disturbed by his parents’ ill behavior this morning to even approach his distracted father and ask what happened; so the young boy decided to ask his mother instead who was usually far more talkative than his father.
The young boys’ mother was dicing some meaty looking substance for their lunch, Vincent was never too sure what exactly his mother was about to cook and when he figured it out it was usually some sort of strange surprise. Vincent couldn’t see his mothers’ green eyes as she leaned over the cutting board, her long red hair draping down over her face, her right hand firmly placed on top of the bench while she diced with the other hand. When Vincent’s mother looked up to see him standing in the doorway she smiled reluctantly, but it was a smile nether the less, her hand loosened up as if she was relieved to see him so Vincent’s worries about his parents subsided for now. Their brief conversation about his father and her husband was nothing more than the usual. Vincent’s mother reassured him that all was fine; like any good mother would do and then decided to go outside into the sweltering heat to speak with her husband. Vincent’s newly reassured eyes followed his mothers’ footsteps across the room as she headed for the door.
The young boy looked back to what his mother was dicing and noticed a distinct smear of blood across the counter where his mothers hand lay moments before. At the time he didn’t recognize the faint symbol smeared within the blood. Vincent peered down closer to inspect this queer looking symbol. Relaxed at first he gently felt himself being pulled in towards the smear of blood, for a moment he stared at the symbol; mildly amused at the coincidence. It was a five sided star. Suddenly he felt a tight grip around his neck pulling him down like a dog on a leash towards the star, the boy was young and feeble, he panicked and strained his neck in the opposite direction barely breaking free of the tight grasp. Vincent; horrified and struggling for breath ran down the corridor away from the kitchen into his room, slamming the door behind him. He pressed his back against the cold wooden door regaining his breath but even then he could still feel a faint tug wanting him to venture back out into the kitchen.
Shrugging the feeling off, Vincent approached the window in his room to breathe the fresh spring air outside; he managed to convince himself that it must have been the sweltering heat outside that he was laboring under all morning, that and the lack of water.
Vincent stared out over the green fields and past the ancient redwood trees, over near the swamp and up over the dirt road. He didn’t see any sign of his parents at all. Cautiously Vincent ventured outside; taking a different route that wasn’t through the dreaded kitchen, out his window. He climbed out down the rafters like a small monkey and onto a tree branch, being a young child he was quite fond of climbing trees, this one especially as the redwoods were far too tall to climb. A short walk later Vincent stood under the shade of one of the giant redwoods; still not in view of his parents; squinting at the horizon around him searching for even the faintest impression that may be a person but to no avail. In the next few hours he searched tirelessly around his home and even within the house itself, taking extra care to deviate his route around the blood stained bench.
His shoes were not designed for walking in the thick creek mud but Vincent was too distracted at this point to care, he ran down through the creek; wading into the water which rose to his waist. There he stood still in the middle of the creek with the water still rushing around him. He stared up through the dense swamp like canopy, as if waiting for a sign from God almighty himself to show him where his parents had went. Vincent stood in the creek for many minutes desperately waiting for that sign, but nothing came. Then barely audible over the rushing sound of the water; he heard a faint whisper as the trees swayed in the wind above. He was too tired at first to hear it, too tired from the hours of relentless searching, his mind too feeble at that present to care. Slowly the distracting sounds of nature around him subsided but one whisper remained; slowly growing louder in Vincent’s ears. Suddenly a voice hit the young boy, a clear crisp but dry whisper that echoed throughout Vincent’s entire body.
”Adveho hactenus parvulus”
Vincent started to become disorientated and paranoid; he ran up on the neighboring embankment nearly tripping several times; his water clogged shoes weighing him down as he scattered for the closest shelter he could find. For many hours Vincent lay still in the darkness enshrouded within the entrance of the dank cave, waiting for something to happen that would reassure him. The sun was now setting rapidly as evening started to encroach upon him; yet he was still too terrified to leave his newly found home.
Several hours had passed away. At this point Vincent had started to lapse in and out of consciousness, becoming delirious with exhaustion and increasingly paranoid. When he finally fully regained consciousness; he found himself deep within the narrow twisting passages of the cave, not knowing how he had traveled this far. He didn’t seem to be worried initially as he had ventured this far into the cave before with his father. He assumed that the small dim glow at the end of the tunnel lead back outside to the creek so he slowly started to crawl towards the golden light. Vincent started to grow worried as time passed, he had been crawling for several minutes through the dank rocky cave and had not seemed too had made any progress towards the outside world; several small cuts now grazed across his knees went unnoticed as he started to crawl even faster. What sounded like an echoing scream at first startled Vincent, and then he realized that it was just his stomach for he had not eaten in near a day. Vincent had become so distracted with the golden glow which always seemed to be just out of his reach; that he had somehow managed to ignore the strong smell of freshly baked bread wafting down the narrow tunnel towards him. To Vincent’s disbelief the small golden glow started to shimmer but then vanished, engulfing poor Vincent in a shroud of absolute darkness. The young boy tried to keep calm and reassess the situation as he now became ever increasingly worried. He was stuck in a dark, dank, rocky narrow passageway on his hands and knees; which were scrapped and bruised. There was absolutely no light around him whatsoever and the air was becoming increasingly stale, he did not know which way was outside as he could not even remember venturing this far into the tunnel to begin with. Vincent lay silent for several minutes trying to remember the exact events which led to him being trapped within the cave. The strong smell of fresh bread had subsided now, Vincent started to question his sanity; was he just imagining the smell of the bread just like the whisper he had imagined before? Tears started to roll down the poor child’s face, he felt utterly useless, trapped, and alone within this nightmarish tomb. Where had his parents gone? Why was God testing him? How did he get inside this cave? At the top of his lungs the child screamed out his parents names but to no avail for they were not listening, nobody was.
By now Vincent had lost track of time with only his own delirious paranoid thoughts to keep himself company, he had lost most sensation over his body as he lay there on his back; he felt as if he was floating in an eternal sea of darkness; waiting for death. Tiny high pitch squeaks in the child’s ears and the faint pitter-patter of water dripping woke up Vincent from his state of purgatory. What Vincent had assumed was a cold wet cave rat was lying on his chest; elongating its head and sniffing the breath coming from the boy’s mouth.
”Hello Vincent, I’ve been following you for some time now; Vincent, Vincent, Vincent? Oh poor Vincent… nyehhh”
Vincent didn’t panic or try to escape, the boy just stared down into the darkness at his chest where the rat would of been sitting. This voice wasn’t the dry whisper he had heard before in the swamp, it sounded more hysterical, on the verge of tears yet full of pleasure.
”Humans, so feeble, doomed to repeat themselves over and over and over again…without question, their minds tainted so easily, ever, ever so easily you know? Every human sees himself as something special, something… unique, and something greater than what he actually is…
”Nothing…” whispered in the Vincent’s ear.
”These delusions of grandeur are just illusions you know? Every human and their idea of… god, who will save them… such a delusion; such, such… because who will save you now? Me!?
His voice had become increasingly manic, alternating between whispering, screaming and explosions of joy; filled with a sadistic pleasure, he was a cat toying with the innocent mouse; Vincent.
”Will I?” his scream echoed down the narrow tunnel,”I won’t!”
The rat whispered again in the trapped boy’s ear,”Should I?”
Vincent lay there, silent and still while the voice chuckled and murmured to itself. Eventually the voice subsided and left the poor helpless boy alone to die in his cavernous tomb. Vincent finally jolted back to reality, but at first he was still unable to move his muscles properly. Slowly sensations started to re-immerge all over Vincent’s body; pins and needles at first; throughout his arms and legs. Squinting his eyes as hard and as long as he could, optimistically praying that he would wake up in his soft bed, in his safe warm home. He could no longer feel the furry wet rat plopped on his chest. With a sigh of relief as more sensations finally started to flow back into Vincent’s now bruised and battered body; the tormented boy opened his strained eyes.
What he saw now would forever change him; further fracture his freshly warped and twisted mind. Monolithic pillars as high above as the eye could see, and on these unearthly structures were chained men; with metal chains and hooks gouging and tearing at their naked flesh. Each man was crucified with several hooks and chains, each on their own cross which connected back to the pillar. Each man was screaming in agony, begging for a death which would never arrive. The sheer momentous height of these structures spanned far above the reddish glow of the sky that swirled far above Vincent’s face. The poor boy was in shock, too feeble to stand up on his own will; he merely turned his head to the right and the left to inspect his new surroundings. Vincent squinted, his vision blurred, he was exhausted and could barely make the outline of what appeared to be a well. Disregarding what he had just seen in the torturous mist above, he ignored the screams and started to crawl towards the well; his face looking away from the horrors above. The poor boy finally reached the well; he ran his fingers along the cold stones around the rim then tried to make his attempt to stand. Vincent knew that if he couldn’t reach the water inside he would certainly die; so with all the strength he possessed he forced himself to stand. Shakily, he leant against the stone well making sure not to look upwards. Learning over the well he cupped his hands and dunked them under the water; lifting his hands to his mouth he noticed the water was dark and muddy but the starved boy didn’t care. His legs were shacking violently underneath him as he leaned over the well, barely keeping his balance but as he drank more he was already starting to regain some strength. Not noticing the peculiar taste of the water; he carried on drinking. After a few handfuls Vincent sighed with a short-lived relief; still exhausted he slumped over the well. He watched the ripples in the water slowly shimmer and disappear but with fresh drops dripping down from above into the well, Vincent did not notice.
”Vincent!”
His head jolted up towards the direction of the familiar voice as an instinct before he had time to reconsider. It was then that he realized that his father and mother were both chained with barbed hooks and spikes; upside down their heads dangled only a few feet from his head. They appeared to be unconscious. Their mutilated faces barely recognizable, their body’s barely intact dripping blood into the well below. He looked back up, shock, horror, no words could explain, this was the embodiment of all which was evil. Mechanical sounds of cogs and levels blasted in Vincent’s ears, so loud it drowned out the sounds of the deathly screams from above. The chains wrapped around his parents chest and throughout their bodies started to tighten. Hooks in their wrists and palms stretched their skin ripping out the muscle in their forearms, the chain burrowed behind their shins started to splinter the bone in front; bursting it through the skin. Vincent stumbled backwards, starring up at his parent’s gruesome deaths; he was screaming as loud as he could yet the sound of machinery at work drowned out his futile attempts. These chains and hooks which penetrated through their backs and around each individual ribcage started to move now, slowly at first they snapped each rip bone separating their chests then ripping the naked flesh of their torsos, they broke free. The half rotting insides of his parents splashed into the well.
All was dark. Vincent was safe now, safe within his own mind. He felt anew, reborn within a womb of delusional and irrational thoughts that were somehow not his own. Yet they were inside his head. Split down the centre, the two parts of Vincent’s fractured mind gained a rare introspection into the mind of each other. He hated himself, the power hungry person he was and the feeble child he had become. Within the deepest part his mind the feeble child had been caged, occasionally fed, starved of warmth and light while his new dominator ruled over his thoughts. The caged boy thought of his family and how he longed to see them again whilst the dominator reminded him of the horrors that became of them. The rat had returned, nibbling on the left over morsels of his sanity.
”I’ve saved you now Vincent, isn’t this; this here! What you have always dreamt of?”
Silence.
”Well! Isn’t it!” the voice boomed in Vincent’s ears.
This wasn’t like before, the fear that his voice installed upon Vincent was unbearable, it was inside his mind, invading every thought.
”Humans, Ants, their life and death… Life, pointless life without power, in fact…You should consider yourself blessed! …The shattered, fractured, tormented shreds of your mind and soul are mine now Vincent and I will do with them as I wish!”
His voice sounded more childlike than before, then Vincent realized that it was slowly morphing into his own, but he lay there; within his mind he had accepted defeat a long time ago. As Vincent’s last individual thought reverberated throughout his now stolen, dying consciousness he wandered if he would ever see the light again.
Siaynoq's Playthroughs
gen,u should read darren shan books u know,they are about demons and horrror!!.Well i LOVE horror stories
I love Darren Shan, though I stopped reading them after book 9 I think. I need to get into them again. They were awesome.
Did anyone read this? Its really not that long. I shouldn't of put "2800 Words" in the title of the thread. It probably put alot of people of
This thread had 305 views and only 3 replies so I thought that at least a few other people must of read it?
Yay Thank You