Read mah story if you want
I haven't written in here for quite some time. God damn...
Oh well, nothing really new is happening. My band died. DAMN THEM. You can read my story though:
Innocence
Hollow, wooden walls echoed their path throughout the creaking home. Clearest moonlight struck the hard wood floor with radiance from the old windows. Sounds of metal filled the halls as screams suddenly joined. Laughter rose from the basement, then, awkward silence. Finding the basement door ajar, a silent hand slowly opened it. The first step was taken, with the usual checks to be sure if anyone had heard. Continuing down the ragged, faulty stairs, a red light could be seen. Placing himself within a corner, he sought out what was going on in this mysterious red light. Murmurs spread as smoke did inside the basement. Finally, his eager eyes fell upon the source of the unnecessary noises.
Her eyes were wide open, shining her blue innocence. Blood exuded from her dead lips, as if they were trying to cry. A thick, hemp rope hung her frail body from the ceiling. Her clothes were torn from fighting; slashes of a fateful blade. Her black velvet dress dripped of warm blood. Her arms were tied behind her with the wrists sprawled open.
The twisted, insane man kept working on his masterpiece of ruined flesh. His laughter sent shivers down the watcher's spine. His cold negativity crept within the cement walls of the basement. The watcher heard whispers from this man as he intensely forced the blade into the girl's stomach. Horror burst through his veins, as the crazed man severed a long line down her. With haste, he tore open the wound- searching through her.
He was now covered in her innocent blood. He loved every minute of it. With a wide grin, he pulled out her broken heart and held it close to his body. His dry lips gently kissed the bleeding organ as he whispered "I love you" to it. Tears filled his grey eyes quickly, yet he smiled. Then, he glared at the bleeding canvas of his masterpiece. Everything was in his possession now…
The watcher tried dearly to resist any temptation to scream. An eerie silence flowed through the basement. The walls seemed to be moving in closer to him. His world was spinning out of control. The drunken feeling persisted. Wonderful aroma of intestines came across the watcher in his hiding place. There she was… dead. There she was… waiting for him to set her free. She probably was from this harsh reality of the world.
Suddenly, the man had taken an instrument to the girl's eyes, ripping them out one by one. Her blue eyes were left open to see the world for what hell it would become. His dirty hands were cleaned with her innocence. Fearful eyes were placed on the floor, watching the watcher at his post. Almost screaming that he was there, that he should also be murdered and tortured as she was. He should feel the same joy as her. Now, she was blinded, shred open, nothingness hanging from the ceiling.
The man slyly passed the watcher in his dark corner and took the stairs up to the moonlit floor. Beauty of the night, he allowed it to be. The man had abandoned the cold house with the girl downstairs. The watcher came out of his hiding with comfort that the man was completely gone. He noticed the man had taken her young heart along with him. The watcher approached, apprehensively loosened the noose from the girl's neck, and slowly lied her down. Guilt spread over his hands. Then, the door upstairs opened.
Many footsteps carried throughout the house as they came closer to the basement. All men, seven of them, ran down the wooden, crooked basement stairs… all men, seven of them, paused at the horrid sight before them. The watcher dropped the body to the floor, backing away from it. Blood, guilty blood spoiled his hands as the men threw him the ground. Their fists, feet, and bodies attacked the watcher with maximum force. Quickly, the watcher had his arms to the air in surrender. A bullet through his head, the innocence had escaped his mind.
The house had cleared of the intruders as the man returned to seek out his masterpiece. Everything was gone, yet he had her heart close to him. He looked down at his filthy hands. Her innocence had set him free; her guilt saved him. Her eyes saw it all, they could no longer cry- she had seen the horror of the world.
- Tracy M.T. LaBrie
July 9, 2002
Oh well, nothing really new is happening. My band died. DAMN THEM. You can read my story though:
Innocence
Hollow, wooden walls echoed their path throughout the creaking home. Clearest moonlight struck the hard wood floor with radiance from the old windows. Sounds of metal filled the halls as screams suddenly joined. Laughter rose from the basement, then, awkward silence. Finding the basement door ajar, a silent hand slowly opened it. The first step was taken, with the usual checks to be sure if anyone had heard. Continuing down the ragged, faulty stairs, a red light could be seen. Placing himself within a corner, he sought out what was going on in this mysterious red light. Murmurs spread as smoke did inside the basement. Finally, his eager eyes fell upon the source of the unnecessary noises.
Her eyes were wide open, shining her blue innocence. Blood exuded from her dead lips, as if they were trying to cry. A thick, hemp rope hung her frail body from the ceiling. Her clothes were torn from fighting; slashes of a fateful blade. Her black velvet dress dripped of warm blood. Her arms were tied behind her with the wrists sprawled open.
The twisted, insane man kept working on his masterpiece of ruined flesh. His laughter sent shivers down the watcher's spine. His cold negativity crept within the cement walls of the basement. The watcher heard whispers from this man as he intensely forced the blade into the girl's stomach. Horror burst through his veins, as the crazed man severed a long line down her. With haste, he tore open the wound- searching through her.
He was now covered in her innocent blood. He loved every minute of it. With a wide grin, he pulled out her broken heart and held it close to his body. His dry lips gently kissed the bleeding organ as he whispered "I love you" to it. Tears filled his grey eyes quickly, yet he smiled. Then, he glared at the bleeding canvas of his masterpiece. Everything was in his possession now…
The watcher tried dearly to resist any temptation to scream. An eerie silence flowed through the basement. The walls seemed to be moving in closer to him. His world was spinning out of control. The drunken feeling persisted. Wonderful aroma of intestines came across the watcher in his hiding place. There she was… dead. There she was… waiting for him to set her free. She probably was from this harsh reality of the world.
Suddenly, the man had taken an instrument to the girl's eyes, ripping them out one by one. Her blue eyes were left open to see the world for what hell it would become. His dirty hands were cleaned with her innocence. Fearful eyes were placed on the floor, watching the watcher at his post. Almost screaming that he was there, that he should also be murdered and tortured as she was. He should feel the same joy as her. Now, she was blinded, shred open, nothingness hanging from the ceiling.
The man slyly passed the watcher in his dark corner and took the stairs up to the moonlit floor. Beauty of the night, he allowed it to be. The man had abandoned the cold house with the girl downstairs. The watcher came out of his hiding with comfort that the man was completely gone. He noticed the man had taken her young heart along with him. The watcher approached, apprehensively loosened the noose from the girl's neck, and slowly lied her down. Guilt spread over his hands. Then, the door upstairs opened.
Many footsteps carried throughout the house as they came closer to the basement. All men, seven of them, ran down the wooden, crooked basement stairs… all men, seven of them, paused at the horrid sight before them. The watcher dropped the body to the floor, backing away from it. Blood, guilty blood spoiled his hands as the men threw him the ground. Their fists, feet, and bodies attacked the watcher with maximum force. Quickly, the watcher had his arms to the air in surrender. A bullet through his head, the innocence had escaped his mind.
The house had cleared of the intruders as the man returned to seek out his masterpiece. Everything was gone, yet he had her heart close to him. He looked down at his filthy hands. Her innocence had set him free; her guilt saved him. Her eyes saw it all, they could no longer cry- she had seen the horror of the world.
- Tracy M.T. LaBrie
July 9, 2002