Post by nknknk on Mar 20, 2007 20:42:35 GMT -5
For a Graphics class that I am in I'm making a storybook. It really was supposed to be a childrens book but I think it is going to be lil' to morbid for children. XD;
Umzzz Its not done! But, here it is so far~
-----
A bleak and thick haze was covering up the 19th century graveyard like a comforting blanket over a newly born infant. The trumpet vines covered up all evidence that underneath the dirt laid a man whom had a debt to the local witch. A debt so terrifying and so gruesome that it ended up slaughtering the living and giving life to the death in its negligence.
The graveyard is the backyard of a woman who was cursed, from some point of views, with the lack of a heart. On these murky days she reflects on her polygamous marriages and the riches it brought her. On her petite wrist is a gold chain, her fingers dressed in ruby, emerald, pearl, and diamond rings, a gold cross restricts her neck. Her body is like a Christmas tree decorated with evidence that it is loved.
The woman was sitting on a velvet stool waiting for the chime of the clock. Her thin pale fingers stroking her dark and voluptuous curls as her large eyes cross-examined the old library that she was in.
“56 seconds, 57 seconds, 58 seconds,” she firmly counted down with the ticks of the mahogany grandfather clock. Then a high-pitched ring came from its wooden lips. A sly grin appeared on the woman’s face as she jumped up and completed her threat. She grabbed a blue violet book from the oak shelves and flipped to the first bookmark. Horrific images of limbless corpses beating children and mothers were on the page coinciding with some foreign text.
“Non perfectus debitum. Refero silenti mortuus,” read the woman.
The 80th day has passed. The heavens released a rainbow of weather tantrums. The ground of the graveyard shook in rhythm to the woman’s cackling. Hail came falling down like arrows on a cowboy and the furious winds pushed away all cobwebs that covered names on these graves. A fresh gravestone read, Pearce Baker, and was particularly tremulous. A pair of eggplant colored hands broke through the ground. Pearce forcefully pushed himself out of dirt and the storm stopped. The nude zombie brushed off the earthworms and maggots from his rotting shoulder. His lust for love has transformed to one goal. Brains.
Pearce strolled to the village, ready to devour the living. His family buried him with a dagger. A defense tool for the afterlife, not knowing they supplied him with foundation of mass murder. The zombie’s eyes targeted a little blonde girl playing with dolls on a nearby stoop. The zombie went towards her, like a lion to a gazelle, and stuck his dagger into her skull. A waterfall of blood covered her delicate face as the pink and fluffy goal was exposed. Pearce dug his face into the wound of the girl and consumed her brain.
The zombie curse is contagious; those whom own the brains that are digested become one of them. And so the zombie started creating his army with his first addition, this little girl.
“Blarrrrgh!” the zombie said, excitedly, but then was confronted with a show of panic. There were some townsfolk nearby who witnessed the murder of the little blonde girl. There facial expressions were similar to Munch’s ‘Scream’ and the screams and wails were an orchestra of extreme discomfort. But above all was a shrilling harp of cackling laughter. Pearce looked up to be confronted with a illusion of this ravishing women emitting these daft and gleeful sounds of amusement from her plump lips.
“Pearce,” the transparent women said, “it is I, Elliot. You are just a mindless monster now so I assume you don’t have any relocation of what you did to me. But, you did not pay your debt. You did not give me the fortunatus ruby and so you will spend eternity as a zombie. Lulzzzzz.”
And so Pearce’s story was set. He and the little girl started their invasion. Their hungry eyes spotted one terrified shaking man. The little girl took Pearce’s dagger and cut up the leg of the man. He fell and became defenseless. The zombies cut open his skull and sucked out his brains like chicken soup. The repeated this procedure upon all the men that were in the grasp. They did not care about their wealth, race, or age. Inside every human being was a tasty treat and that is all the zombies cared about. They ‘lived’ to indulge and did not give anything back. They did not try to find a way to end this curse; they did not try anything. The zombie epidemic spread rapidly and strongly. It was the end.
Two haunting large eyes were watching the apocalypse that she had created. She hid herself in a cloak of laughter. Having such loathing and jealousy for all of humanity that are able to dive into this emotion of love. She was born with two abilities; the ability to perform magic and the ability to not fall in love. On some levels she finds superiority in her existence. She has tricked many men into going to extreme environments to search for plenty of jewels for Elliot to bathe in. She has used them for her own pleasure and her schemes have always worked. On a spring day she paints herself white and says the real magic words, ‘I do’, to some weak gentleman. Then she uses their existence as a tool to get everything she wants and if they die on her or they do not complete there goal Elliot will damn them with her eternal hex.
And so, the zombie army performed their lobotomy to all of humanity.
Thee End. 3:
Umzzz Its not done! But, here it is so far~
-----
A bleak and thick haze was covering up the 19th century graveyard like a comforting blanket over a newly born infant. The trumpet vines covered up all evidence that underneath the dirt laid a man whom had a debt to the local witch. A debt so terrifying and so gruesome that it ended up slaughtering the living and giving life to the death in its negligence.
The graveyard is the backyard of a woman who was cursed, from some point of views, with the lack of a heart. On these murky days she reflects on her polygamous marriages and the riches it brought her. On her petite wrist is a gold chain, her fingers dressed in ruby, emerald, pearl, and diamond rings, a gold cross restricts her neck. Her body is like a Christmas tree decorated with evidence that it is loved.
The woman was sitting on a velvet stool waiting for the chime of the clock. Her thin pale fingers stroking her dark and voluptuous curls as her large eyes cross-examined the old library that she was in.
“56 seconds, 57 seconds, 58 seconds,” she firmly counted down with the ticks of the mahogany grandfather clock. Then a high-pitched ring came from its wooden lips. A sly grin appeared on the woman’s face as she jumped up and completed her threat. She grabbed a blue violet book from the oak shelves and flipped to the first bookmark. Horrific images of limbless corpses beating children and mothers were on the page coinciding with some foreign text.
“Non perfectus debitum. Refero silenti mortuus,” read the woman.
The 80th day has passed. The heavens released a rainbow of weather tantrums. The ground of the graveyard shook in rhythm to the woman’s cackling. Hail came falling down like arrows on a cowboy and the furious winds pushed away all cobwebs that covered names on these graves. A fresh gravestone read, Pearce Baker, and was particularly tremulous. A pair of eggplant colored hands broke through the ground. Pearce forcefully pushed himself out of dirt and the storm stopped. The nude zombie brushed off the earthworms and maggots from his rotting shoulder. His lust for love has transformed to one goal. Brains.
Pearce strolled to the village, ready to devour the living. His family buried him with a dagger. A defense tool for the afterlife, not knowing they supplied him with foundation of mass murder. The zombie’s eyes targeted a little blonde girl playing with dolls on a nearby stoop. The zombie went towards her, like a lion to a gazelle, and stuck his dagger into her skull. A waterfall of blood covered her delicate face as the pink and fluffy goal was exposed. Pearce dug his face into the wound of the girl and consumed her brain.
The zombie curse is contagious; those whom own the brains that are digested become one of them. And so the zombie started creating his army with his first addition, this little girl.
“Blarrrrgh!” the zombie said, excitedly, but then was confronted with a show of panic. There were some townsfolk nearby who witnessed the murder of the little blonde girl. There facial expressions were similar to Munch’s ‘Scream’ and the screams and wails were an orchestra of extreme discomfort. But above all was a shrilling harp of cackling laughter. Pearce looked up to be confronted with a illusion of this ravishing women emitting these daft and gleeful sounds of amusement from her plump lips.
“Pearce,” the transparent women said, “it is I, Elliot. You are just a mindless monster now so I assume you don’t have any relocation of what you did to me. But, you did not pay your debt. You did not give me the fortunatus ruby and so you will spend eternity as a zombie. Lulzzzzz.”
And so Pearce’s story was set. He and the little girl started their invasion. Their hungry eyes spotted one terrified shaking man. The little girl took Pearce’s dagger and cut up the leg of the man. He fell and became defenseless. The zombies cut open his skull and sucked out his brains like chicken soup. The repeated this procedure upon all the men that were in the grasp. They did not care about their wealth, race, or age. Inside every human being was a tasty treat and that is all the zombies cared about. They ‘lived’ to indulge and did not give anything back. They did not try to find a way to end this curse; they did not try anything. The zombie epidemic spread rapidly and strongly. It was the end.
Two haunting large eyes were watching the apocalypse that she had created. She hid herself in a cloak of laughter. Having such loathing and jealousy for all of humanity that are able to dive into this emotion of love. She was born with two abilities; the ability to perform magic and the ability to not fall in love. On some levels she finds superiority in her existence. She has tricked many men into going to extreme environments to search for plenty of jewels for Elliot to bathe in. She has used them for her own pleasure and her schemes have always worked. On a spring day she paints herself white and says the real magic words, ‘I do’, to some weak gentleman. Then she uses their existence as a tool to get everything she wants and if they die on her or they do not complete there goal Elliot will damn them with her eternal hex.
And so, the zombie army performed their lobotomy to all of humanity.
Thee End. 3:
