Post by Andrew Savage on May 24, 2012 23:58:52 GMT -6
.: The same stormy weather wrecks the banks of the cliff, the ocean waves crash among the rocks, the howling wind screeches through the air as if it were haunted by banshees. Within seconds you begin to take to the air like a crane, soaring around the island, as you circle you begin to realize this is not a typical island it’s more of a facility. Rain pours all around you, as lightning crashes in the distance, you come full circle again, and you see an open window within this ruined complex.
Quickly you make your way towards the window, crashing into the cement flooring on the other side; screams of terror and horror fill the air, almost as if your ears were bleeding for the wide spread screams. You try to stand, nothing, you lay there trying you allow your eyes to adjust to the lighting changes.
The screams continue, you find it difficult to concentrate on one thing as the human screams pierce your ears, cans on bars rattle, you remember now where you are. An asylum, many call this prison a home, you mind and heart begin to race as the feel of entrapped begins to take over your logical thinking.
Screaming at the top of your lungs you begin to realize you too are at home, safe and secure within these walls.
Whimpers of darkness…
You scan your surroundings, sitting in the corner of your room is the man from your dreams, the man with the shovel, the man who left you in the rain. You feel a cold shiver race down your spine, a feeling you can’t seem to shake, he just stares with his head tilted to one side, watching you struggle. He then reaches out to you almost as if he is clawing the air in spite of you. A faint sadistic laugh creeps from his direction as his hand slowly lowers to his side. :.
Your attempt is simply pathetic, gut wrenching and to put it in simple terms amateurish. How easy it would be to jump out from the darkness that cloaks us all and play into your game of chess, like a little lost pawn. Don’t make me laugh Max I will not reveal what my true goal is. These are the rules of a mad man’s game. I am a man who you’ve not faced, in a long time.
.: Your head feels wary, your eyes heavy, you can’t shake the feeling he is going to harm you. You feel all control of your body fade; you lay there motionless trapped in his gaze. His head slowly tilts to the other side; he seems almost to survey your every breath, in what seems to be a smile his raspy voice kicks in over the chaos of the elements and screams of the asylum. :.
Bare not my sins but the sins of our fathers, for you are nothing more than a puppet in a political game. Max, you trail off so wonderfully, that verbal vomit that you spat out was as effective as a teething child’s ranting. When it comes to your flesh and blood you tend to steer away from the subject, your eyes damn near glaze over, the signs of weakness if you ask me. Again, what does the mind of a lunatic have to do with the price of coffee, isn’t that correct Max?
.: Almost as if he hadn’t moved, and almost like you blinked he is standing, head still tilted to one side, his eyes still piercing your soul. Almost like you're trapped in a tunnel the only things you can hear now is your breathing and his voice, the elements and screams seem to have faded into the haze of the background noise. :.
I know what you wish to hear, I know what words you want to slip from my lips, I hear the voices telling me the name. You crave me to tell you Max; you want me to break the rules of the game, puppet you wish me to tell you who I really am. I’ve never been great at politics Max, so I don’t give a flying fuck what the upper brass wants or doesn’t want. I for one will play my hand when I am good and ready to, what you want to hear are the words… I… am… Your Nightmare...
.: Twisted laughter slips from his lips as he begins to break out in a hysterical laughter, holding his sides in a mocking manner he continues to laugh. His laugher makes the sound of nails on a chalkboard seem appealing to the masses. After several moments his laughter fit comes to an end, he removes his hands from his sides and holds them out. :.
I am the darkness that hides in all of your hearts. Every evil thing you ever Done Max keeps me from truly Disappearing from this world.
.: His booted steps make their way one by one, seeming louder as they press forward, your eyes close, darkness. When you open them again he is nowhere to be seen, concealed by the shadows for the room you have lost your predator. :.
You have read the poll; you have watched the dirt sheets, because it’s on the Internet that makes it real. How misguided you and the youth of yesterday are, how mistaken the Internet trend has been, how fun the game is when the pieces never fall into their proper places. How does the snow melt in the polar ice caps? The age old question, how tied are the hands of the employer, when the inmates run the mad house? Max, you wanted bat shit crazy, yet I believe you don’t want this. You beg and plea that The Real Savage resurfaces so that you can become an epic icon, one that paves his name in lights. .: wicked chuckle :. Time tells your wary mind that I am who I am, and pain is what every one else will feel and Max Prophet I hope you don't chicken out like the last time.
.: You hear his breath, you fail to find him in the confines of your room, like a ghost you lost visual on him. The striking of a lighter comes from your left; you shoot your eyes in that direction only to be blinded by the flash of the lighter as it engulfs the cigarette which seems to be placed in his lips. He takes a drag from the cigarette, the smoke lost to the darkness, his breathing rhythmic to his drags on the cigarette. He pauses and then his raspy voice cuts the silence like a knife. :.
A mockingbird so wonderful within their cage can sing a lullaby to even the demented mind, choke that bird and see what tune it carries. Do not try to be a witty fool, you will lose the battle of wits, try and play the smart man and you’ll learn nothing more than the last smock you terrorized. Did you send the pigeon a get well card? A proper send off of brutal proportions, the little piss ant must have hit a nerve for you to take it to the extreme you did, tell me please, did you enjoy watching him squirm? I know watching the replays I would have done… So much more, gasoline rings a bell? The sheer power and destructive force of fire, the screams that would echo the area, it would be harmonic.
.: His chuckle rings your tunnel hearing, the haunting sound of his twisted chuckle almost feels defying. :.
Heh, that makes you unique, you choose the less creative side of your barbaric actions. Nonetheless, the result was nearly the same. Now refrain from being your stereotypical self and do something original for once, like actually build a solid legacy in a more conventional way. Even a barbarian grows tired of his injustice once in awhile; then again, after Forsaken there will be a Terminal Illness you might wish you repented your sins. How do you plan to soar like an eagle when you’re standing on the ground flapping your arms like a turkey? Play the game…
.: You feel a sudden sharp pain in the side of your head as you then black out. Fin… :.
Quickly you make your way towards the window, crashing into the cement flooring on the other side; screams of terror and horror fill the air, almost as if your ears were bleeding for the wide spread screams. You try to stand, nothing, you lay there trying you allow your eyes to adjust to the lighting changes.
The screams continue, you find it difficult to concentrate on one thing as the human screams pierce your ears, cans on bars rattle, you remember now where you are. An asylum, many call this prison a home, you mind and heart begin to race as the feel of entrapped begins to take over your logical thinking.
Screaming at the top of your lungs you begin to realize you too are at home, safe and secure within these walls.
Whimpers of darkness…
You scan your surroundings, sitting in the corner of your room is the man from your dreams, the man with the shovel, the man who left you in the rain. You feel a cold shiver race down your spine, a feeling you can’t seem to shake, he just stares with his head tilted to one side, watching you struggle. He then reaches out to you almost as if he is clawing the air in spite of you. A faint sadistic laugh creeps from his direction as his hand slowly lowers to his side. :.
Your attempt is simply pathetic, gut wrenching and to put it in simple terms amateurish. How easy it would be to jump out from the darkness that cloaks us all and play into your game of chess, like a little lost pawn. Don’t make me laugh Max I will not reveal what my true goal is. These are the rules of a mad man’s game. I am a man who you’ve not faced, in a long time.
.: Your head feels wary, your eyes heavy, you can’t shake the feeling he is going to harm you. You feel all control of your body fade; you lay there motionless trapped in his gaze. His head slowly tilts to the other side; he seems almost to survey your every breath, in what seems to be a smile his raspy voice kicks in over the chaos of the elements and screams of the asylum. :.
Bare not my sins but the sins of our fathers, for you are nothing more than a puppet in a political game. Max, you trail off so wonderfully, that verbal vomit that you spat out was as effective as a teething child’s ranting. When it comes to your flesh and blood you tend to steer away from the subject, your eyes damn near glaze over, the signs of weakness if you ask me. Again, what does the mind of a lunatic have to do with the price of coffee, isn’t that correct Max?
.: Almost as if he hadn’t moved, and almost like you blinked he is standing, head still tilted to one side, his eyes still piercing your soul. Almost like you're trapped in a tunnel the only things you can hear now is your breathing and his voice, the elements and screams seem to have faded into the haze of the background noise. :.
I know what you wish to hear, I know what words you want to slip from my lips, I hear the voices telling me the name. You crave me to tell you Max; you want me to break the rules of the game, puppet you wish me to tell you who I really am. I’ve never been great at politics Max, so I don’t give a flying fuck what the upper brass wants or doesn’t want. I for one will play my hand when I am good and ready to, what you want to hear are the words… I… am… Your Nightmare...
.: Twisted laughter slips from his lips as he begins to break out in a hysterical laughter, holding his sides in a mocking manner he continues to laugh. His laugher makes the sound of nails on a chalkboard seem appealing to the masses. After several moments his laughter fit comes to an end, he removes his hands from his sides and holds them out. :.
I am the darkness that hides in all of your hearts. Every evil thing you ever Done Max keeps me from truly Disappearing from this world.
.: His booted steps make their way one by one, seeming louder as they press forward, your eyes close, darkness. When you open them again he is nowhere to be seen, concealed by the shadows for the room you have lost your predator. :.
You have read the poll; you have watched the dirt sheets, because it’s on the Internet that makes it real. How misguided you and the youth of yesterday are, how mistaken the Internet trend has been, how fun the game is when the pieces never fall into their proper places. How does the snow melt in the polar ice caps? The age old question, how tied are the hands of the employer, when the inmates run the mad house? Max, you wanted bat shit crazy, yet I believe you don’t want this. You beg and plea that The Real Savage resurfaces so that you can become an epic icon, one that paves his name in lights. .: wicked chuckle :. Time tells your wary mind that I am who I am, and pain is what every one else will feel and Max Prophet I hope you don't chicken out like the last time.
.: You hear his breath, you fail to find him in the confines of your room, like a ghost you lost visual on him. The striking of a lighter comes from your left; you shoot your eyes in that direction only to be blinded by the flash of the lighter as it engulfs the cigarette which seems to be placed in his lips. He takes a drag from the cigarette, the smoke lost to the darkness, his breathing rhythmic to his drags on the cigarette. He pauses and then his raspy voice cuts the silence like a knife. :.
A mockingbird so wonderful within their cage can sing a lullaby to even the demented mind, choke that bird and see what tune it carries. Do not try to be a witty fool, you will lose the battle of wits, try and play the smart man and you’ll learn nothing more than the last smock you terrorized. Did you send the pigeon a get well card? A proper send off of brutal proportions, the little piss ant must have hit a nerve for you to take it to the extreme you did, tell me please, did you enjoy watching him squirm? I know watching the replays I would have done… So much more, gasoline rings a bell? The sheer power and destructive force of fire, the screams that would echo the area, it would be harmonic.
.: His chuckle rings your tunnel hearing, the haunting sound of his twisted chuckle almost feels defying. :.
Heh, that makes you unique, you choose the less creative side of your barbaric actions. Nonetheless, the result was nearly the same. Now refrain from being your stereotypical self and do something original for once, like actually build a solid legacy in a more conventional way. Even a barbarian grows tired of his injustice once in awhile; then again, after Forsaken there will be a Terminal Illness you might wish you repented your sins. How do you plan to soar like an eagle when you’re standing on the ground flapping your arms like a turkey? Play the game…
.: You feel a sudden sharp pain in the side of your head as you then black out. Fin… :.
