Post by Razgat on Jul 31, 2009 13:02:02 GMT -5
The rain poured outside and ran down the glass windows of the bar. The usual were sitting at the tables with their friends, laughing and chugging shots. A few others silently sipped at their beers and watched the baseball game that was playing on the vintage TV screen above the shelves. The screen was fuzzy and went in an out as the small storm went on outside, but that didn’t ruin the moods of the cheerful men. The laughter and occasional cheers towards the game went on uninterrupted.
One man, a logger, staggered in, dressed in a plaid, button down shirt and jeans. He had a thick beard that looked bushy an unkempt. He slammed his hand down on the counter to get the bartender’s attention. “One tall one, on the double!”
A bottle slid across the counter and into his hand. He took a seat at the counter and looked up at the game. The pitcher threw a fast one, but it was hit and soared over the field. The man cheered along with everyone else, except one man two seats away from him. The logger looked over at the man and gently punched his shoulder. “Hey, man. Not one for sports?”
The man glanced over at him and continued to nurse his beer. “No, I…uh…don’t usually watch baseball.” The comment was short, and he didn’t seem to want to talk.
The logger continued unfazed. “Well, what do you like then?”
The man turned to look at him, knowing the logger wouldn’t stop talking to him. “Well, I’m not one for sports.”
The logger raised an eyebrow as he looked the man over. He noticed he was fit with some muscle in his arms. “You must work out then? Because if you don’t play sports, where did those come from?”
“I go to the gym.”
The logger gave a broad smile and patted him on the back. “Well, how’s about you have another drink? Bartender?” The logger hiccupped. He had obviously been slightly drunk before entering the bar.
The man got up from his seat. “I’ll get it.” He walked over to the bartendar and came back with two beers.
The two men had another drink together, but that last drink overdid it for the logger, and he struggled to stand on his feet. The man stood up from his hair and walked to the door. “Do you need any help? You didn’t drive here, did you?”
The logger shook his head and followed him to the door. “No, I walked. I’m looking for a hotel.”
“I know of one a few blocks from here. I’ll walk you there.”
The logger followed as the man lead the way out of the bar. It was still raining outside, but the men ignored it and walked along the side walk away from the bar. It had gotten late, and the streets were secluded. The only thing lighting the roads were the occasional street lights and signs from the buildings. They walked together in the dark towards the hotel.
The logger suddenly fell to his knees. He felt a rushing pain in the back of his head, and his vision started to blur. “Are you alright?” said the man.
The logger mumbled a response, but his words were slurred. The man sighed and picked the man off his feet and sat him down on something. The logger couldn’t tell what. The man told him to wait there for a moment while he went for some help, and the logger remained sitting there. He could feel blood rushing into his head, and it gave him a terrible headache. He rubbed his temples to try and sooth it, but he heard foot steps not far off. He looked up, thinking it was the man, but his vision was still a little blurry, so he couldn’t tell. Someone stepped up to him, and he saw a dark outline of them. “Hey, who are you?”
He heard no answer, but the person walked up to him. He heard what sounded like a hissing or slithering, and the person knelt down over him. He suddenly felt something hit his head, and he felt a sharp pain worse than the headache. He screamed and reached his arms up to try and pull himself up, but he could barely see anymore. He felt another sharp pain in his side, and he felt something wet and warm spread on his shirt. He then felt another sharp pain, then another, and he screamed out for help, but no one came. “Please, stop! Please!”
He was suddenly jerked to his feet and was being held up by his collar. He could tell that he was being held up to the person’s face, but he couldn’t see who it was. He felt warm air go across his face as the man spoke. “No.”
The logger took a deep breath and tried to speak again. “W-who are you?”
The spoke, but it almost sounded like he hissed. His voice sounded smooth and snakelike. “Deadly Nightshade.”
The logger was suddenly thrown against the wall. He fell limply to the ground, and his head felt like it was on fire. His vision was no longer blurred, and he turned to get a look at the man, but he wasn’t sure if what he saw was true. He saw vines trailing behind him, slithering like snakes and dancing in the air, and his hands looked almost claw-like. The man suddenly looked back at him, and the logger saw bright, yellow eyes. The logger suddenly felt his body shaking, and his limbs began flailing. He screamed and tried to regain control, but he couldn’t stop. He managed to get control of his arm, but he couldn’t do anything. All he could think of was the creature’s face and eyes and name. Deadly Nightshade. That name repeated itself over and over in his head. Deadly Nightshade. Deadly Nightshade. Deadly Nightshade! The man screamed and began clawing at the wall. He clawed at it until his finger tips began to bleed, and then he kept clawing. He carved out shapes in the old wall, trying desperately to finish it. His blood dripped down his arm, but he didn’t stop. He had to finish.
Hours went by, and no one came his way, but he didn’t care. As long as he finished, he would be happy. He could die. His finger nails on his thumb and index finger had fallen off, and he was forced to use his other three. They were barely there, hanging on to threads of skin. He began to carve the last letter. He felt pain in every inch of his body, and he felt warm liquid all over him, but he wasn’t focused on that. He was almost done. He heard a pop as the finger nail on his middle finger came loose. It fell backwards and hung from the his skin. Blood oozed from his fingers, but he ignored it and moved on to the other two fingers. He carved out the last letter.
He had finished. He had done what he had set out to do. He let his arm fall to his side, and smiled. “I did it..” he told himself. He chuckled silently to himself. “I did it.” His chuckle soon turned into a laugh, and it grew louder and louder until it was almost hysteric. “I did it! I DID IT!” He let out one last boast of laughter before it died out and his body went limp.
One man, a logger, staggered in, dressed in a plaid, button down shirt and jeans. He had a thick beard that looked bushy an unkempt. He slammed his hand down on the counter to get the bartender’s attention. “One tall one, on the double!”
A bottle slid across the counter and into his hand. He took a seat at the counter and looked up at the game. The pitcher threw a fast one, but it was hit and soared over the field. The man cheered along with everyone else, except one man two seats away from him. The logger looked over at the man and gently punched his shoulder. “Hey, man. Not one for sports?”
The man glanced over at him and continued to nurse his beer. “No, I…uh…don’t usually watch baseball.” The comment was short, and he didn’t seem to want to talk.
The logger continued unfazed. “Well, what do you like then?”
The man turned to look at him, knowing the logger wouldn’t stop talking to him. “Well, I’m not one for sports.”
The logger raised an eyebrow as he looked the man over. He noticed he was fit with some muscle in his arms. “You must work out then? Because if you don’t play sports, where did those come from?”
“I go to the gym.”
The logger gave a broad smile and patted him on the back. “Well, how’s about you have another drink? Bartender?” The logger hiccupped. He had obviously been slightly drunk before entering the bar.
The man got up from his seat. “I’ll get it.” He walked over to the bartendar and came back with two beers.
The two men had another drink together, but that last drink overdid it for the logger, and he struggled to stand on his feet. The man stood up from his hair and walked to the door. “Do you need any help? You didn’t drive here, did you?”
The logger shook his head and followed him to the door. “No, I walked. I’m looking for a hotel.”
“I know of one a few blocks from here. I’ll walk you there.”
The logger followed as the man lead the way out of the bar. It was still raining outside, but the men ignored it and walked along the side walk away from the bar. It had gotten late, and the streets were secluded. The only thing lighting the roads were the occasional street lights and signs from the buildings. They walked together in the dark towards the hotel.
The logger suddenly fell to his knees. He felt a rushing pain in the back of his head, and his vision started to blur. “Are you alright?” said the man.
The logger mumbled a response, but his words were slurred. The man sighed and picked the man off his feet and sat him down on something. The logger couldn’t tell what. The man told him to wait there for a moment while he went for some help, and the logger remained sitting there. He could feel blood rushing into his head, and it gave him a terrible headache. He rubbed his temples to try and sooth it, but he heard foot steps not far off. He looked up, thinking it was the man, but his vision was still a little blurry, so he couldn’t tell. Someone stepped up to him, and he saw a dark outline of them. “Hey, who are you?”
He heard no answer, but the person walked up to him. He heard what sounded like a hissing or slithering, and the person knelt down over him. He suddenly felt something hit his head, and he felt a sharp pain worse than the headache. He screamed and reached his arms up to try and pull himself up, but he could barely see anymore. He felt another sharp pain in his side, and he felt something wet and warm spread on his shirt. He then felt another sharp pain, then another, and he screamed out for help, but no one came. “Please, stop! Please!”
He was suddenly jerked to his feet and was being held up by his collar. He could tell that he was being held up to the person’s face, but he couldn’t see who it was. He felt warm air go across his face as the man spoke. “No.”
The logger took a deep breath and tried to speak again. “W-who are you?”
The spoke, but it almost sounded like he hissed. His voice sounded smooth and snakelike. “Deadly Nightshade.”
The logger was suddenly thrown against the wall. He fell limply to the ground, and his head felt like it was on fire. His vision was no longer blurred, and he turned to get a look at the man, but he wasn’t sure if what he saw was true. He saw vines trailing behind him, slithering like snakes and dancing in the air, and his hands looked almost claw-like. The man suddenly looked back at him, and the logger saw bright, yellow eyes. The logger suddenly felt his body shaking, and his limbs began flailing. He screamed and tried to regain control, but he couldn’t stop. He managed to get control of his arm, but he couldn’t do anything. All he could think of was the creature’s face and eyes and name. Deadly Nightshade. That name repeated itself over and over in his head. Deadly Nightshade. Deadly Nightshade. Deadly Nightshade! The man screamed and began clawing at the wall. He clawed at it until his finger tips began to bleed, and then he kept clawing. He carved out shapes in the old wall, trying desperately to finish it. His blood dripped down his arm, but he didn’t stop. He had to finish.
Hours went by, and no one came his way, but he didn’t care. As long as he finished, he would be happy. He could die. His finger nails on his thumb and index finger had fallen off, and he was forced to use his other three. They were barely there, hanging on to threads of skin. He began to carve the last letter. He felt pain in every inch of his body, and he felt warm liquid all over him, but he wasn’t focused on that. He was almost done. He heard a pop as the finger nail on his middle finger came loose. It fell backwards and hung from the his skin. Blood oozed from his fingers, but he ignored it and moved on to the other two fingers. He carved out the last letter.
He had finished. He had done what he had set out to do. He let his arm fall to his side, and smiled. “I did it..” he told himself. He chuckled silently to himself. “I did it.” His chuckle soon turned into a laugh, and it grew louder and louder until it was almost hysteric. “I did it! I DID IT!” He let out one last boast of laughter before it died out and his body went limp.
