Post by .:Uchiha Itachi:. on Sept 15, 2007 20:25:49 GMT -5
I wrote the beginning to this a while backk...I found it not too long ago...I dunno If I'll continue it..Any thoughts?
I sat, huddled behind a waist high chest of drawers. My knees were curled to my chest, ebon locks of hair hanging matted over my eyes. My rapid intake of breath spread over my knees. Rain pounded furiously on the window in the autumn storm. There were voices downstairs…Raised voices. Mother’s constant pleas for them to stop. They had come…
"Take us to the boy…" A gruff voice demanded.
"No…Please…No…He’s just a bo-"
There was a crash, most likely the sound of mother being pushed aside. For the sound of footsteps sounded once more, as well as armour clanking.
"Where is he?"
"Check upstairs…" The gruff voice stated, cutting into the other soldier’s statement.
Silently, I counted the number of steps, trembling as the soldier climbed the stairs. The old wood creaked outside in the hall. He was nearing…I drew my knees in closer to my chest, golden eyes darting about me. There was the sound of the door slowly swinging open…
The room was pitch black, but the soldier’s footsteps sounded eerily in the dark. Slowly…Very slowly he moved about, though I couldn’t actually see him. I felt myself wimper softly, crouching lower behind the dresser…The footsteps stopped…
A bright and sudden flash of lightning lit the room, revealing to Me the soldier’s whereabouts. His face was inches before the my own, crimson eyes with slit like pupils were locked onto me. Long, silvery strands of hair fell over his face and shoulders. The soldier’s mouth was opened in a horrific grin, revealing pointed, fanglike teeth glinting in the light that seemed to be fading all to fast…
The light faded. Strong hands grasped Haiku and lifted him. A terrified scream escaped my lips...
He awoke with a jolt, golden eyes snapping open in the darkness. Slowly, very slowly, he shifted positions so that he was sitting on his cot. He ran a tan hand down his face, brushing aside tangled and sweaty locks of ebon hair in the process. His fingers traces his featrues. His high, well rounded cheek bones. The smoothness of his skin...Then the course feeling of the dark tattoo that covered his left cheek.
A dream. It had all just been a dream. But a dream of his past at that.
He sighed, allowing his hand to fall to his lap. It landed with a soft, barely audible thunk on the thin, white sheets that were wrapped about his legs. The air was silent and brisk against his face.
Dark lashes almost concealed brilliant orbs as he moved, lowering his legs over the edge of his cot. The initial shock of touching the frozen earth caused him to jump a little, sucking in air through now chattering teeth. Moving quickly, he stepped into his long, knee length leather boots.
With an almost motion, he bent downwards and laced the shoes with expert ease. Slender fingers weaved back and forth as he working in one, fluid movement, moving this way, then that, twisting that way, then the other. Only after he had finished did he rise to his full hieght and look about his surroundings through a shock of dark hair.
A gentle tapping came to the entrance of his canvas tent.
"Number 17. The commander wishes to speak with you."
He turned slowly at his 'name,' or replacement of a name. There were no names in this foul place. Only numbers. Numbers that were branded into every prisoner's cheek. He lifted his chin, looking to the narrow doorway.
A soldier, less than half his height stood, holding the tent flap open. The man was swathed head to toe in the garb of the army. A long, grey cloak fell inches above the man's ankles, concealing a black and crimson tunic, as well as some light armour. Silver strands of hair fell like a waterfall from his head, allowing only the tips of two pointed ears to protrude from the sides of his skull. He opened his mouth to speak once more, revealing a sharp set of razor like teeth.
"Number 17?"
That's all I wrote to for now...Let me know what cha guys think.. :3
I sat, huddled behind a waist high chest of drawers. My knees were curled to my chest, ebon locks of hair hanging matted over my eyes. My rapid intake of breath spread over my knees. Rain pounded furiously on the window in the autumn storm. There were voices downstairs…Raised voices. Mother’s constant pleas for them to stop. They had come…
"Take us to the boy…" A gruff voice demanded.
"No…Please…No…He’s just a bo-"
There was a crash, most likely the sound of mother being pushed aside. For the sound of footsteps sounded once more, as well as armour clanking.
"Where is he?"
"Check upstairs…" The gruff voice stated, cutting into the other soldier’s statement.
Silently, I counted the number of steps, trembling as the soldier climbed the stairs. The old wood creaked outside in the hall. He was nearing…I drew my knees in closer to my chest, golden eyes darting about me. There was the sound of the door slowly swinging open…
The room was pitch black, but the soldier’s footsteps sounded eerily in the dark. Slowly…Very slowly he moved about, though I couldn’t actually see him. I felt myself wimper softly, crouching lower behind the dresser…The footsteps stopped…
A bright and sudden flash of lightning lit the room, revealing to Me the soldier’s whereabouts. His face was inches before the my own, crimson eyes with slit like pupils were locked onto me. Long, silvery strands of hair fell over his face and shoulders. The soldier’s mouth was opened in a horrific grin, revealing pointed, fanglike teeth glinting in the light that seemed to be fading all to fast…
The light faded. Strong hands grasped Haiku and lifted him. A terrified scream escaped my lips...
He awoke with a jolt, golden eyes snapping open in the darkness. Slowly, very slowly, he shifted positions so that he was sitting on his cot. He ran a tan hand down his face, brushing aside tangled and sweaty locks of ebon hair in the process. His fingers traces his featrues. His high, well rounded cheek bones. The smoothness of his skin...Then the course feeling of the dark tattoo that covered his left cheek.
A dream. It had all just been a dream. But a dream of his past at that.
He sighed, allowing his hand to fall to his lap. It landed with a soft, barely audible thunk on the thin, white sheets that were wrapped about his legs. The air was silent and brisk against his face.
Dark lashes almost concealed brilliant orbs as he moved, lowering his legs over the edge of his cot. The initial shock of touching the frozen earth caused him to jump a little, sucking in air through now chattering teeth. Moving quickly, he stepped into his long, knee length leather boots.
With an almost motion, he bent downwards and laced the shoes with expert ease. Slender fingers weaved back and forth as he working in one, fluid movement, moving this way, then that, twisting that way, then the other. Only after he had finished did he rise to his full hieght and look about his surroundings through a shock of dark hair.
A gentle tapping came to the entrance of his canvas tent.
"Number 17. The commander wishes to speak with you."
He turned slowly at his 'name,' or replacement of a name. There were no names in this foul place. Only numbers. Numbers that were branded into every prisoner's cheek. He lifted his chin, looking to the narrow doorway.
A soldier, less than half his height stood, holding the tent flap open. The man was swathed head to toe in the garb of the army. A long, grey cloak fell inches above the man's ankles, concealing a black and crimson tunic, as well as some light armour. Silver strands of hair fell like a waterfall from his head, allowing only the tips of two pointed ears to protrude from the sides of his skull. He opened his mouth to speak once more, revealing a sharp set of razor like teeth.
"Number 17?"
That's all I wrote to for now...Let me know what cha guys think.. :3
