Eh-heh. Just a SUPER short snippet I felt like uploading. It's actually a description essay from my Writing class at the beginning of this year. I first got the assignment, and I was like, "I NEED TO DESCRIBE MARIK." So yea. Not really my writing style, (I don't think), but I just thought I'd figure out how to upload stuff. One-shot? I guess so. It doesn't really have a storyline. Lots of fun description and symbolism, ja? ^^ (Find Yami Marik bits if you can. It's like Where's Waldo... with a psychopath.)


Underground

In the sky overhead, the moon hung bright and full, illuminating the vast night. The air outside was arid, and though the desert sands had burned hot only a few hours ago, now a brisk wind cut throughout the myriad dunes. Beneath the sands however, it grew colder still. No wind dared to blow through these desolate passages, and the atmosphere here was dank and eerily still. Flickering torches were mounted on every wall, failing to create any warmth, only sickly wavering shadows to glide and slither along the walls.

In a chamber off one such passage, a small boy knelt on the hard floor. His light brown skin seemed to contrast naturally with his unusually fair hair, which hung at about shoulder-length around his face. Though the cold stone seeped in through his robes, he did not stand up. Bandages covered the entirety of his back, and he felt the raw pain of his wounds searing every fiber of his being. The boy wept freely into his hands, his tiny frame shaking with every sob. He could taste blood in his mouth, mingling with the stinging salt of his tears. In front of him, his shadow danced along with the rhythm of the torches, disregarding his lonely grief.

In another chamber down the hall, the boy heard his father shouting deafeningly, raging against his older brother. The boy could almost hear the swish of the whip as it grazed flesh, again and again, and pictured his brother's submissive form bracing itself against the blows. He knew his sister would have retreated into the confines of her room, kneeling as he was kneeling now, but her head bowed in desperate prayer. The boy remained curled up on the musty-smelling ground, and numbly wondered if he would ever escape this life, his hell beneath the earth. But his cruel shadow continued to dance along the floor, an otherworldly spirit twisted from his soul and manifested by the flame. And the sounds of hurt, and prayer, and bitter loneliness only reached to the end of the moon outside still shone as vibrantly as ever, casting its wholesome light on the world up above them.