The smiling bandit prolougeJeffery was just heading home from his walk. He liked to walk, it gave him time to be alone. When he got home however he found a group of bandits sitting at the table, his parents dead on the rug and glass over the floor. His father just looked like he'd been shot, but his mother wasn't wearing any clothes, and her throat was slit. The bandits noticed Jeffery and looked at him."Hey, your folks were nice, before they died" one of the bandits laughed. Jeffery had no idea what to do, so he ran. The bandits, fearing he might tell the sheriff, chased after him. The bandits caught up with him and pinned him down."Come on, I hate it when kids are sad" Another bandit said."Let's make him smile" Suggested a third bandit. Jeffery struggled but the bandits had a tight hold of him, as if he were a pig in a lasso. The bandits passed a knife around, and one of the bandits started leaning towards Jeffery."Let's see you smile" he said almost in a whisper. Jeffery could smell the whiskey on his bre
UntitledI once lived in a small village. It was peaceful, pleasent and a quiet place. If you were quiet enough you could could hear the music of flutes, ocarinas and the soft singing of children drift through the air.The houses were decorated with the prettiest of pink, red, purple and white flowers. Children and dogs would play on the hills and the elders would tell stories about brave knights, fierce dragons, creatures of the night, powerful wizards and kind little creatures that flutterd around and granted people good luck.Even in times of storm or war, we still banded together and helped each other out. We would craft mythical creatures and small game pieces with wood and explore the forest with out children.It was perfect, and now I watch the village from above, hearing the children's songs no more and seeing ashes, ruin and the bones that were once mine.
an insane look of loveShe had hair, like that of a waterfall of bloodEyes like the bluest of blue seas, with charcoal in the centerNails that seemed to shine like stars, in the blackest of voidsA voice that was sweet and fragile, but also bitter and coldShe was the creation of a demon and an angel.He had a face of pale snowEyes that seemed to see through ones soulAnd clothes stained with blood as if it were punchAnd a knife, although worn, still shone like that of a fireflyHe is the definition of insanity.These two should’ve never metFor chaos would follow oneAnd death would soon follow the other.