here it is...
ok, so this was supposed to correspond to a picture, but i don't think you really need it to know what's going on...
I awoke to the sound of the raging thunder outside, pouring buckets of fresh rain of the roof and pounding it flat. I only meant to close my eyes for a second, but I must have fallen asleep. Opening my eyes, I find the room to be pitch black except for the dim glow of the floor lamp standing a floor or so from my chair. How long was I asleep? I attempted to get up but felt something hard and sleek against my neck, as cold as ice, yet as sharp as a surgeon's blade. A trickle of blood slid down my neck as I allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Glancing down I saw something very bright, it took me a minute or so to realize that it was only reflecting the light from the lamp behind me. My eyes slowly followed the sleek handle until they rested upon a hand holding it very tightly. I wondered where Ian was, and why he had allowed this stranger into our dorm, and what's more, why I had not sensed their presence sooner. Still my eyes slowly continued to adjust and I was able to make out an arm, muscular and taught, the handle of their weapon held underneath. At this point I could make them out to be a man, it's anatomically impossible for a woman to be that built.
His face was hidden in shadows, yet I could sense his anger, overwhelming and powerful. The light reflected off his golden hair dimly, short and messy, parted roughly down the middle. His very essence seemed to vibrate with raw power and strength, his stance confident and his arm firm. His eyes were pure white with just eh slightest hint of blue, they were cold and ruthless, and it became apparent that this man wanted to shed my blood more than anything the world has ever known. Where did this extreme hatred come from? Everything else seemed to be as if it were sucked away in a black abyss, the only reminder of the outside world was the pouring rain outside, and the distant moaning and creaking of the old willow tree outside our dorm window.
The thought finally occurred to me, what if this mad man had done something to Ian? What if he was hurt or unconscious somewhere, or worse, dead? A sense of panic and fear filled me, what if I was alone here, in the dead of the night. If I tried to yell or made any kind of move to escape, the cold blade resting at the base of my neck would surely spring into action. I looked again at the man's face, the shadows made his features look evil and forbidding, yet there was still something nagging me that I had seen them somewhere before. The hand grasping the weapon tightened slightly, the curved blade blinded me for a second then I realized that it was the antique scythe that we had mounted on the wall for decoration. Things started to fall into place like pieces of a puzzle, but still one piece bugged me the most. I closed my eyes and whispered "Why Ian?" softly into the darkness, but there was no response.
Ok, so now that I've typed up the story, I want to hear your feed back about it. Whether it's good or bad, be honest. I'm not going to hold anything you say against you.
I awoke to the sound of the raging thunder outside, pouring buckets of fresh rain of the roof and pounding it flat. I only meant to close my eyes for a second, but I must have fallen asleep. Opening my eyes, I find the room to be pitch black except for the dim glow of the floor lamp standing a floor or so from my chair. How long was I asleep? I attempted to get up but felt something hard and sleek against my neck, as cold as ice, yet as sharp as a surgeon's blade. A trickle of blood slid down my neck as I allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Glancing down I saw something very bright, it took me a minute or so to realize that it was only reflecting the light from the lamp behind me. My eyes slowly followed the sleek handle until they rested upon a hand holding it very tightly. I wondered where Ian was, and why he had allowed this stranger into our dorm, and what's more, why I had not sensed their presence sooner. Still my eyes slowly continued to adjust and I was able to make out an arm, muscular and taught, the handle of their weapon held underneath. At this point I could make them out to be a man, it's anatomically impossible for a woman to be that built.
His face was hidden in shadows, yet I could sense his anger, overwhelming and powerful. The light reflected off his golden hair dimly, short and messy, parted roughly down the middle. His very essence seemed to vibrate with raw power and strength, his stance confident and his arm firm. His eyes were pure white with just eh slightest hint of blue, they were cold and ruthless, and it became apparent that this man wanted to shed my blood more than anything the world has ever known. Where did this extreme hatred come from? Everything else seemed to be as if it were sucked away in a black abyss, the only reminder of the outside world was the pouring rain outside, and the distant moaning and creaking of the old willow tree outside our dorm window.
The thought finally occurred to me, what if this mad man had done something to Ian? What if he was hurt or unconscious somewhere, or worse, dead? A sense of panic and fear filled me, what if I was alone here, in the dead of the night. If I tried to yell or made any kind of move to escape, the cold blade resting at the base of my neck would surely spring into action. I looked again at the man's face, the shadows made his features look evil and forbidding, yet there was still something nagging me that I had seen them somewhere before. The hand grasping the weapon tightened slightly, the curved blade blinded me for a second then I realized that it was the antique scythe that we had mounted on the wall for decoration. Things started to fall into place like pieces of a puzzle, but still one piece bugged me the most. I closed my eyes and whispered "Why Ian?" softly into the darkness, but there was no response.
Ok, so now that I've typed up the story, I want to hear your feed back about it. Whether it's good or bad, be honest. I'm not going to hold anything you say against you.