ItheRook

Air burns with scorched magnesium and plasma, as platinum charges fork across the sky. Ignited atoms sparkle like tinder and oxygen turns to carbon and dust. Lifting the light level across the ground and revealing the shadows for what they are. A streak of silver slashes across the sky behind an abandoned church. Threatening to strike the graveyard and awaken the dead from their slumber. The rain begins to fall. Cooling the land that is slowly being battered by the heavy storm. There is a country lane and across from the graveyard appears to be a vineyard; the lightning flashes and shows it sweeping over the hills and towards what looks like a farm house. High in the church belfry a shadow stands hidden in the darkness. Peering out from behind the arches, watching the lightning dance like flamenco ladies, across the black velvet sky. This is their stage, their moment. The shadow is but an audience member. Watching them glide and twirl, faster and faster. In a building crescendo that

Shaking the pins and needles from his long legs. Vince arches and cracks his back. He looks at the Texan, sitting on the running board of the Beast and finds himself thinking, that there is something familiar about him. Lord Michael’s voice whispers in the back of his mind. Just as a warm wind slips by him, ruffling his hair and taking that thought away again as it leaves. The young Texan stands up and opens the car door. Assuming that Vince is ready to go. The Detective stares blankly at the open car door. Not really focusing his eyes or mentally acknowledging what it is. His mind is busy working on other things. When things started moving yesterday. They moved fast. It started the moment that he opened the door of the gas station and hasn’t quite seemed to have settled down since. There is an odd, out of sync tick around everything here. Somewhere in his mind, he recalls feeling the same misstep somewhere else in Hell. However every time he remembers where he felt it, and

SO.... I am not a literary genius, I'm still a hack in sheep's clothing. But I am trying to learn how to be the shadow of someone like Steven King (love that guy). Give it another couple of lifetimes and I might get close to at least being mistaken for his little toe. :D I read how to, guides and watch online writing for beginners, lessons. It's not the best way to learn, because you can't ask immediate and direct questions. Without having to wait months for a reply, only to forget what the question was about and assume that now you're under some weird bot attack!..... Um, ahem. And, ah, how has your day been so far? :meow: Now.... if only I didn't have the memory of a squashed slug... (In joke). In regards to the title. I recently had learned not to be too long winded in my descriptions of things. As it can distract from the story and bore people to tears. I'm a bit of a poet, (hack) and lurve me some long winded, flowery descriptions. Ones that transport me to a place and let

‘So... you were headed to this guys house and woke up on the side of the road?’ The young Texan scratches his ear and it looks as though he is thinking really hard about Vinces story. ‘Do you still have your wallet?’ He sharply adds, actually startling the Death Demon into pulling back from him. With just a moment of hesitation, Vince begins patting himself down, when he suddenly remembers that he doesn’t typically carry one. This guy is oddly disturbing to him and it has had him feeling a little scatterbrained since they first met. It’s nothing specific. Honestly, the young man seems nice if somewhat, as they say, “painted with a different kind of brush”. In saying that though. Vince is reminded of the fact that he’s a Death Demon, on Earth, looking for a lost soul. So in the game of unusual and oddly weird things. He wins over the Texan. Just then he finds his warrant card in his breast pocket and habitually checks it, before putting it back. ‘Yeah, sort of. I-‘ The

The sound of the windscreen wipers in the background, is enough to distract the doctor from the droning voice of the DJ. His silly puns are annoying to the point of making the grey eyed being, inwardly consider seeking him out, just to bite off his tongue. Outwardly though, he has no intention of acting on that thought. It’s just one of those strange machinations that invades the quieter moments. He most certainly knows better than to let the stray thoughts drive him. Not that this prevents him from reacting anyway. Besides which, he has already upset his mother. There is a small, shivering bundle. It is half hidden beside a dumpster, in the alley next to the bakery that the doctor is parked out the front of. The wipers sweep the rain aside and this gives him a clear view, across the footpath into the entrance of the alley. Straight at the bundle. His gaze is focused on the spot and he is becoming more and more transfixed by a terrible idea; One of those stray thoughts has