(No name) [suggestions are welcome]

Last edited by ~Stark~ on Sat May 29, 2010 6:42 pm; edited 1 time in total

Chapter 1

BROKEN that's what I am today. Torn. Neglected.

Humans are such vile, insufficient creatures. They made me what I am today. And for that, I am dead inside.

But why does it even matter? Everything about this world is injust, and the fact that I'm still living proves that.

They are greedy, one-minded things without any backbone to support their motives.

And even as I tell myself this, why is it that I feel sympathy? Why can't I hate them so very much that I kill them all off?

I guess it's because I know them, and if I were to kill every single one, slowly and painfully, just so it can barely compare to one-third of what they put me through, I'd be the only moster left.

I guess in a way, I'd be no better than the humans that put me through hell...... Ironic, huh?

I hate irony.
I hate the human race.
I hate everything.
But most importantly...
I hate myself.

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Subject: Re: (*~~No name~~*) [suggestions are welcome] Sat May 29, 2010 6:10 pm

Chapter 2

NORMAL. You know that word, right? Everyone does. But do you know the meaning? Probably not. No one really knows the true meaning of it.

Don't strain yourself to look it up, I already know what it will tell you,
"Acording with, constituting, or not deviating from the norm, rule, or principle : REGULAR"

I know it by heart, because when I was six I asked my mother what it had meant.

She just told me to look it up, so I got our old dictionary out and did as she told me to.

Of course, when I read it, I didn't understand what it meant, so I ran to her yelling, "Mommy, mommy! I still don't understand!"

Until then, I had never known, could never know.... I was only six....

She turned to me, with the coldest look she could have possibly held and said,
"It's something you'll never be," she had said so definitively, with so much certainty and hatred that I didn't question her.

I had never known...that my own mother hated me...

I remembered the definition, hoping that one day, I would be able to follow the principle and be normal.

That's hard to do when no one will tell you what their standards of normal are.

I guess people are born with a certain level of normality, and I was just born with none.

I was always a freak, and my mother indirectly told me that. She told me that I couldn't be accepted, that no one loved me.

I was a fool to believe that anyone ever could.

What is the true definition of normal?

There isn't a solid one.

We are all like puzzle pieces, each one of us fits to another piece and we form a group, a community that follows their own rule of normal. The smaller the group, the bigger the pieces. That means they can hold more freak than the other, smaller ones.

I guess that means I'm a whole damn puzzle.

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Last edited by ~Stark~ on Sat Jun 05, 2010 7:15 am; edited 1 time in total

Chapter 3

HUMANS are rotten and distasteful. Greedy and ignorant. One-minded and unimportant.

They take up air and space.

But so do I.

Can't they just kill me? Haven't they done enough?

It's not like they'd lose anything valuable to them, like money.

Well, unless they plan on making me some sort of attraction, like for a circus.

Or like an animal in the zoo.

I wouldn't doubt it, they'll do anything for entertainment, because living just isn't enough.

I've been subject to their entertainment many times over.

Humans don't have limits.

They can't do anything right.

Nor can I.

They are given a home and they destroy it. They are given hope, and they let others crush it. They are given freedom to have goals and dreams, and half don't even try to make them a reality. They are given love, and they don't accept it.

They are given everything, and they toss it all away.

How can I be envious of these monsters?

Because they are given everything, and I am given absolutely nothing.

I should be used to it by now, but I don't think I ever will be, not a hundred years from now, probably not even a thousand.

And it's all because of humans

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Last edited by ~Stark~ on Sat Jun 05, 2010 7:40 pm; edited 1 time in total

Okay, here is the prologue:

Prologue

I'VE been sitting here for days, and it's not like there's anything to do in a cage.

It's awfully cramped in here, but it's not like I can ask for a change of address.

It's not like they want to give me some room, a little place to breathe.

I know that they will eventually come and take me through those big, stainless steel, reinforced, laboratory doors, a.k.a. Hell.

Are we really the monsters, or is it them?

Confusion, it's something that has taken place within me daily.

That is, if it's even daytime.

I can't tell anymore, I've been here far too long.

But all I CAN do is sit here, and wait.

What am I waiting for?

Don't ask me that. Monsters like us don't like to be asked that question, because the answer is so obvious.

We're waiting to die.

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Last edited by Shikyo on Tue Jun 08, 2010 12:00 am; edited 6 times in total

Chapter 4

DEATH, destruction, agony. I've seen it all, and caused it all.

I guess that never helped with the whole 'fitting in' thing.

Even if I had never done any horrible things, repent for my sins, or whatever the hell humans do, I wouldn't be accepted.

Death, it's not the worst, not even close.

The first dead body I saw?

My monther's.

After I killed her of course.

Funny how things like that work out.

I believe I was ten or so, it was late afternoon and my mother was cooking dinner.

She never really talked much, well, at least not to me.

I guess that was fine, it's not like it mattered, I was used to not being talked to.

She was leaning over the stove, making bacon.

I don't like bacon, but it's not like I really cared, she wouldn't give me much even if I did like it.

Okay, so, back then, I had a pet rat. Don't ask questions.

When I was younger I was fascinated by them, so I found one and befriended it, because it's not like my mother would buy me a pet.

His name was Toby.

Note, the *was*.

And my mother, she didn't exactly know about him.

I had forgotten that little fact when I came into the kitchen and sat down at the table with Toby perched on my shoulder, feeding him scraps of food that I had found.

It's not your concern as to where I found them at.

My mother looked up from her cooking when she heard me sit down.

Her eyes slid over to Toby.

Needless to say... she freaked.

She started to screan, it was all incoherent, just screaming with random words thrown in, there was cussing too.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact emotion she was expressing, anger, fear, hatred...

Toby didn't like the noise, he scrambled off of me, and I was far too scared to catch or help him.

I was stuck, frozen, watching the whole thing.

Instead of running away, Toby ran straight to my mother.

That wasn't very pretty.

She screamed even louder when Toby ran to her, reaching an octave I was sure a human wasn't supposed to reach.

Suddenly, it happened.

Her foot connected with his head, smashing it against our floor-level cabinets, resulting in a sickening crack, accompanied by a weird, shrill screeching noise from Toby that was starting to fade.

My mother was still holding the frying pan in her hands, grease sloshing over the side, half of it was gone now.

The pan slipped from her hands and fell.

It fell and it seemed to fall forever, in slow motion.

It fell, right on Toby's head, right when the screech started to end.

The rest of the grease sloshed of the side and onto Toby, burning him, sizzling and popping.

Toby's screech came back, but it was weaker now and fading more quickly.

I was ten, very frightened, and my mother was pissed.

I didn't know what to do.

She had picked up the frying pan, and she was coming towards me.

Scared doesn't even come close to explaining what I felt right then.

She came closer to me, with this... crazed look in her eyes.

Then she said the word that made me snap,

"Freak."

Something clicked, and suddenly I was very angry.

She was the one that never cared.

She had never really been there.
She would never be there.:

She hated me.

I was a freak.

I wasnt good enough for her.

Who the hell was she to judge?

What happened next was all a blur.

The frying pan slammed into her head, bringing her to the ground.
She screamed out in pain.

It hit her again, blood splattered on me, but I didn't care.

Again and again it slammed onto her. Scream after bloodcurling scream.

There she lie, feet from me, and I watched as she was mercilessly murdered by seemingly no one.

Blood started to stream from her mouth and I could tell that one of her organs had exploded.

I guess you could say I was pretty brutal.

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Last edited by Shikyo on Thu Jun 24, 2010 6:06 am; edited 3 times in total

Chapter 5

RUNNING, I did a lot of it. It seems like I ran more than I actually lived. When your like me, and big-city government hears about you, you take off.

If there was one person with brain damage, or stupid enough to want to be your best friend, you don't let them.

You don't look back.
You look ahead.

You don't say 'bye'.
You just never say 'hello'.

You don't have a final homecooked meal.
McDonald's makes you barf just as much.

You don't put on shoes.
They slow you down.

You don't open the door.
You rip it off it's hinges.

You don't fall.
You catch yourself.

You don't walk.
You run

Running is just in our nature, even most of those high-class snobs that have guards and don't have to worry about dying, they can run just as fast... if they ever had to.

Though we may want to die, though we may want it so badly, some of us, we have something holding us back.

We have no true family, we have no friends, but we do have every push that society has given us, though. Telling us to off ourselves. Some of us do, but others, we're driven to prove everyone wrong, prove that we can handle it, try to convince them.

But, really, we can't even convince ourselves.

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(*~~No name~~*) [suggestions are welcome]

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