C
+Chaos Blade+
Guest
Listening to some video game music last night, and also hearing in the school announcements that an alumnus died, I just started typing up something. Now, bear in mind that this, in actuality, is my FIRST One-Shot *le gaspseses*, so it might not be that good.
It's something saddening, and it might not make sense, but meh, it just came to me.
Here we are: Shadows of Pain, my first one-shot.
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It was a damp, dreadful evening. The winds were picking up; rain was beginning to fall. A young boy was huddling himself with a soaked suede jacket that was nearly two sizes too small. He looked into the moon. His fishy blue eyes just gleamed at the sight of the yellow rock. They were fixated on the object so far away.
Thunder. Lightning. More rain kept pouring down on the deserted street. The boy kept plodding through the empty sidewalk. He looked around. Leaves were being blown off the trees due to the harsh and fierce winds. Houses on both sides of the street were boarded up with layered carpenter’s wood.
The boy soon stopped in his tracks. He looked up again at the luminous moon, being covered by the dark, cold sheets of clouds of the upcoming night. His eyes still stared at the moon. His pupils soon became slits of black.
The Transformation was beginning.
Emerging from his thick, black long hair were small horns – the size of a goat’s. His once blue eyes were beginning to change into a thick, bloody shade of red. His suede jacket was torn to pieces as wings began to appear from his spinal cord. His tattered shirt tore off completely to show lots of grayish-blackish fur. His already dilapidated pants disappeared to show beastlike legs, claws at his feet, replacing his toes.
His arms revealed more fur. His hands morphed into sharp claws. His teeth became fangs and his face turned to that of a vampire mixed with a werewolf.
He spoke in a gruff, devilish voice, “What…is…happening…to…me?”
A woman’s voice responded, “It’s the Transformation, dear. This all happened because of your fascination of the moon.” Emerging from a shadow was a maiden with blonde hair, wearing a blue-and-white ensemble with a tiara made of the finest crystal with a ruby implanted in the center. She wielded a staff of a turquoise shade. She was very beautiful. The creature stared at her.
“Help me…please…” he begged. His voice was deeper than before, yet a sound of a little boy’s cry for help still was heard faintly in his tone of voice.
The magician walked up to him. She placed a soft, white hand on his gray shoulder and looked at him straight in his red, bloodshot eyes. Her voice sounded like an angel. “It’s part of a magical process, dear.”
“Magical? How can you call,” he placed his hand on his hairy chest, “this magical? It’s truly a nauseating sight to see, and yet you, someone of great beauty,” he looked into her eyes, his eyes getting teary, “still speak to me, a hideous creature?”
His wings and horns grew another three inches.
“Stop!” she warned. “It is due to a curse – the Lumins curse. You’re part werewolf-part vampire. This only happens when you think grave and pessimistic thoughts. You’re only hurting yourself more if you keep thinking this way. Just think of great thoughts – your childhood, it must have been great.”
He looked down. “It wasn’t.” His eyes grew redder. “My parents were slain in the Rebellion!” He groaned in agony. His fangs were growing at a hasty rate. His wings grew another three inches. His horns began to curl and became more Mephistophelian.
The mage stood back. She defended herself with her staff. The creature in front of her yelled in rage. The moon in the sky began to shine a red aura. The mage widened her eyes. “No. It cannot be…” She readied her staff and aimed it at the creature’s heart.
Soon, a magical whirlwind formed around the beast. It was engulfed in flames a second later. His rage was getting uncontrollable, and his hate became power. He roared in rage and was thrashing around in the confinements of the flame ball.
“The…Werelumins Curse…” the mage muttered. Her hands began to shake, and lost grip of her staff. She then focused her attention on the moon again. Its aura shone an even brighter red.
She focused her staff on the moon. “Jünorth!” she yelled. A swirl of purples and blues were fired at the moon. The floating rock became blue and red, the spells trying to counteract each other. Eventually, the moon became yellow as it should be, and the beast in front of the maiden soon calmed.
The mage was shaking and fell to the floor. She knelt and wept. She raised her staff and muttered, “Zegrortü, take pity on this beast and put it out of its misery. Its rage must be stopped due to this unforgivable curse.” Her eyes swelled up in tears. “Please, kill this beast – this rage!” The flames engulfed the beast.
The only thing that was left was a pile of ashes – something that used to be her own son.
It's something saddening, and it might not make sense, but meh, it just came to me.
Here we are: Shadows of Pain, my first one-shot.
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+ [ Shadows of Pain ] +
A Fantasy One-Shot written by +Chaos Blade+It was a damp, dreadful evening. The winds were picking up; rain was beginning to fall. A young boy was huddling himself with a soaked suede jacket that was nearly two sizes too small. He looked into the moon. His fishy blue eyes just gleamed at the sight of the yellow rock. They were fixated on the object so far away.
Thunder. Lightning. More rain kept pouring down on the deserted street. The boy kept plodding through the empty sidewalk. He looked around. Leaves were being blown off the trees due to the harsh and fierce winds. Houses on both sides of the street were boarded up with layered carpenter’s wood.
The boy soon stopped in his tracks. He looked up again at the luminous moon, being covered by the dark, cold sheets of clouds of the upcoming night. His eyes still stared at the moon. His pupils soon became slits of black.
The Transformation was beginning.
Emerging from his thick, black long hair were small horns – the size of a goat’s. His once blue eyes were beginning to change into a thick, bloody shade of red. His suede jacket was torn to pieces as wings began to appear from his spinal cord. His tattered shirt tore off completely to show lots of grayish-blackish fur. His already dilapidated pants disappeared to show beastlike legs, claws at his feet, replacing his toes.
His arms revealed more fur. His hands morphed into sharp claws. His teeth became fangs and his face turned to that of a vampire mixed with a werewolf.
He spoke in a gruff, devilish voice, “What…is…happening…to…me?”
A woman’s voice responded, “It’s the Transformation, dear. This all happened because of your fascination of the moon.” Emerging from a shadow was a maiden with blonde hair, wearing a blue-and-white ensemble with a tiara made of the finest crystal with a ruby implanted in the center. She wielded a staff of a turquoise shade. She was very beautiful. The creature stared at her.
“Help me…please…” he begged. His voice was deeper than before, yet a sound of a little boy’s cry for help still was heard faintly in his tone of voice.
The magician walked up to him. She placed a soft, white hand on his gray shoulder and looked at him straight in his red, bloodshot eyes. Her voice sounded like an angel. “It’s part of a magical process, dear.”
“Magical? How can you call,” he placed his hand on his hairy chest, “this magical? It’s truly a nauseating sight to see, and yet you, someone of great beauty,” he looked into her eyes, his eyes getting teary, “still speak to me, a hideous creature?”
His wings and horns grew another three inches.
“Stop!” she warned. “It is due to a curse – the Lumins curse. You’re part werewolf-part vampire. This only happens when you think grave and pessimistic thoughts. You’re only hurting yourself more if you keep thinking this way. Just think of great thoughts – your childhood, it must have been great.”
He looked down. “It wasn’t.” His eyes grew redder. “My parents were slain in the Rebellion!” He groaned in agony. His fangs were growing at a hasty rate. His wings grew another three inches. His horns began to curl and became more Mephistophelian.
The mage stood back. She defended herself with her staff. The creature in front of her yelled in rage. The moon in the sky began to shine a red aura. The mage widened her eyes. “No. It cannot be…” She readied her staff and aimed it at the creature’s heart.
Soon, a magical whirlwind formed around the beast. It was engulfed in flames a second later. His rage was getting uncontrollable, and his hate became power. He roared in rage and was thrashing around in the confinements of the flame ball.
“The…Werelumins Curse…” the mage muttered. Her hands began to shake, and lost grip of her staff. She then focused her attention on the moon again. Its aura shone an even brighter red.
She focused her staff on the moon. “Jünorth!” she yelled. A swirl of purples and blues were fired at the moon. The floating rock became blue and red, the spells trying to counteract each other. Eventually, the moon became yellow as it should be, and the beast in front of the maiden soon calmed.
The mage was shaking and fell to the floor. She knelt and wept. She raised her staff and muttered, “Zegrortü, take pity on this beast and put it out of its misery. Its rage must be stopped due to this unforgivable curse.” Her eyes swelled up in tears. “Please, kill this beast – this rage!” The flames engulfed the beast.
The only thing that was left was a pile of ashes – something that used to be her own son.