The beginning of this story is the best I've done so far, in my opinion. I spent about two hours writing this, going ver and over again and editing it, so forgive any missed typos. 0-o; cuddles 'nny plushie Enjoy, and please comment. This is my first Fic posted on this site.
He twirled the long slender blade between his fingers,enjoying the temporary silence that came with his late-night vists to the park. The stars were in clear view overhead for once, dispite the all to near bright light of the city, the full moon also present but also half-hid by a new wave of in-coming storm coulds.
The thunder was calming to his nerves, which was good considering that his nerves could use some claming about now.
A slight mist had begun, which was slowy progessing into a steady rain. He loved the rain, loved how it provided the lesser beings of humanity with the state of mind that it was something to stray from. In a clear meaning, humaity saw it as rain and simpilly that, cold rain, stay indoors rain, it'll make you ill rain, rain and nothing more, but Johnny felt differantly. He saw rain personally as crystalline drops from the sky that portrayed hope; beautiful carriers of fate that perhaps weren't bad, but maybe misunderstood like he himself. Maybe everything wasn't so horrible afterall. He found hope in the rain, but just like everything else he found hope in, there was always something there to destory it.
What, are you insane? heh. Alright... so a slight understatement there... but... have you lost your mind! Finding hope in the rain? What are you... a freaking poet now? Finding love by singing with the birds and hugging trees, are you 'nny? ...
"Sod off..." Johnny snapped, shifting slightly around on the ground, annoyed at Meat's all to sudden intteruption of his peaceful thoughts.
Misunderstood like yourself? Nothing is misunderstood about you, Johnny the mass murderer of many.
"I believe it's called homocide..." he stated dully, keeping himself slightly amused with the knife, though it was all to obvious that meat was getting to him, soiling what good mood he had. This was just fuel for him to continue.
Well whatever it's called... echoed the annoyed voice of the revrened meat, it's anything but misunderstood, and you, my friend, know that well.Misunderstood... feh. Misunderstood my ass...
Johnny, in more of a fit of rage than anything, jammed the knife into the moist ground, narrowing his eyes. "SHUT UP MEAT." he sneered.
"You sound like a little baby." came the all to amused voice from within. "A little child, so innocent and
sweet. Are you a litte child, Johnny?"
"Shut up meat..." he said once more. He withdrew the knife from the ground and began to dangle it in his hand again, moving it in-between his fingers, not at all in the mood for an argument. The rain and began to harden, a
blanket, thick and warm.
"Or maybe..." it furthur mused. "You've began to soften, perhaps?"
"Perhaps, but very unlikely." Mused the wary psychopath in return, finding it hard to muster up a comeback at the moment. Johnny watched the blade that seemed to dance in his grasp, simpilly transfixed by all the beauty it held. The gleam the slender and sharp blade caught off the beams of moonlight, how it reflected those beautiful beams into one thin line across the dying grass of the park. Everything about it held so much beauty... so much precision.
Sighing, he stood. Beauty, he mused in thought, was a figment of the imagination. It was not real, but it was an idea placed within the mind, placed there with the intention of making one hunger for something they could never have, thus driving them insane. This is how he imagined it, anyhow.
His walk home was anything but peaceful.