Just a note: I've only seen the episode, "Son of Nergal" once, and that was
way back in July. I saw about 6 minutes of it on Shocktober, and completely
missed when I think it was replayed on Saturday. So, some of this might not
be totally accurate, as I have a terrible memory. Also, I am cursed with
the Sickness. Headcolds, gotta love them. So, forgive me if this sounds
awful. I, myself, think I overkilled with my limited vocabulary. Trying to
hard, I suppose. Stupid me. Trying to sound all smart. *smack* Curse the
brainmeats. They reek of idiot. . .ness. . . yes.
Anyways, you don't want to listen to me. You want to read the cruddiness that is this story. Or maybe you want to hit the back button and escape before you catch my stupid. Either way. Here's the shit.
--~~*~~--
The son of Nergal sighed heavily, his breath forming a small cloud of mist before disintegrating into the cool fall air. He kicked absentmindedly at the colorful array of leaves that littered the streets, still soggy from the early morning dew. Hands shoved deep within his coat pockets, he shuffled along, shoulders hunched around his chin.
He didn't want to attend human's pathetic excuse for an educational system. He found it quite pointless, the information received in those cursed buildings trivial and, for the most part, unnecessary for future activities. Those who delivered the endless drawl of trite lessons were often cruel and impatient, stereotyping all those forced to attend as simpletons unworthy of the "impeccable" knowledge they bore. They often reeked of things resurrected from the dead, as if they'd been teaching minors for thousands of years, punishment for a crime they committed in biblical times.
Those children who were forced to attend were no better than the teachers. Most of them were malicious little fiends, seeking pleasure from other's pain, always eager to tear their fellow classmates down so others wouldn't notice their own flaws. He was often the target of their cruelty, because of the way he looked or the withdrawn attitude he bore. Though he had the same basic structure as they did, thanks to the bodily appearance he stole, they still managed to find faults in his every action and attribute.
"I have no friends to protect me from these human demons," he muttered, slender eyebrows drawing down over his framed lime-green eyes. "I've frightened away all possible companionship." His voice faltered, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent tears from falling. He recalled his actions at winter camp with much regret. His desperate yearning for popularity turned on him, and the result was quite the opposite of what he desired.
He hadn't meant for everything to turn out so wrong. He hadn't meant to strike fear into the hearts of his classmates. He'd only wanted acceptance. But now, it seemed he'd always be an outcast, hated and feared by humanity. His own parents either didn't know, or didn't care about the severity of his problem. They were far too wrapped up in each other to do much of anything with him, their own flesh and blood.
His footsteps slowed, and Nergal Junior lifted his eyes towards the tall brick building of hell. It was here he was sentenced to suffer, for seven more years of endless hurt. Filled with grief and spite, he sullenly turned, and trudged up the leaf-sprinkled sidewalk to the steps. He could hear the whispers of the children, staring and mocking him from the grass on either side of the walkway.
He winced, lowering his head and shoving his hands deeper within his coat pocket. Raucous laughter erupted from the bike racks aside the steps, voices proclaiming in mock fear, "Don't mess with him! He'll turn you into a snowman!" He quickened his pace, practically tripping over his own feet in the rush. Tapping hastily up the stairs, he trotted towards the double doors, eager to enter and escape from the stares of his peers. Unfortunately, his haste filled him with too much adrenaline, and momentum disabled him from avoiding the one bursting out of the building.
White-hot pain shot like lightning through his face as he met with the swinging iron door. Junior fell back, clutching a now-bloodied nose and cracking glasses, letting out a soft wail of anguish. Stumbling and drunken with pain, he struggled to compose himself, his legs turning to rubber beneath him. As he lurched away from the swinging arc of the door, his heavily-booted foot missed the first step, and he found himself sprawling backwards onto the concrete below. He hit the ground harder than he ever expected to, breath forced out of his lungs in a gush. The sky blurred and spun above him, his world a spiral of hurt.
Laughter exploded around him, seemingly amplified in his throbbing head, and he felt hot tears stinging his eyes. He wanted to curl up and disappear forever. Embarrassment burned his face, his already deflated self esteem taking a plunge into an unknown low. Just as he felt he as about to break down into open sobs, he felt someone rush to his side.
"Oh geez! I'm soooo sorry!" a voice sounded from above him, "I had no idea you were there! I was just so filled with the HAPPY!!! The nurse just finished fixing up my nose after that stupid drinking fountain tried to eat it, and I guess --"
The voice faltered, and Junior stiffly turned his head towards its source. Tears and pain blurred his vision, but the muddle of fleshy hues before him struck a familiar chord. Where had he seen his person before? It seemed the feeling of previous acquaintance was mutual.
"Heeey. . . don't I know you from somewhere?"
The son of Nergal lifted a shaky hand to his broken glasses, pulling them gingerly from his face. He rubbed his free hand over his eyes, forcing away the fog. Returning his now-misshapen spectacles to his eyes, he regarded the person before him. A gasp escaped his throat as he realized just who it was he was speaking to.
"B-Billy!"
--~~*~~--
*abrupt halt of the gibberish*
--~~*~~--
That's the first chapter. Yep. I think it stinketh. Maybe the next chapter'll be better. Sorry it kinda just. . . cuts off. I'm tired of writing. You can probably tell. The last ten paragraphs were all rushed. Grr. My head throbs. Forgive me and shut up.
or review. Review's good too. My air-qualities right for burning, so flame away. That made no sense, did it? Bah. I need a cough drop.
Anyways, you don't want to listen to me. You want to read the cruddiness that is this story. Or maybe you want to hit the back button and escape before you catch my stupid. Either way. Here's the shit.
--~~*~~--
The son of Nergal sighed heavily, his breath forming a small cloud of mist before disintegrating into the cool fall air. He kicked absentmindedly at the colorful array of leaves that littered the streets, still soggy from the early morning dew. Hands shoved deep within his coat pockets, he shuffled along, shoulders hunched around his chin.
He didn't want to attend human's pathetic excuse for an educational system. He found it quite pointless, the information received in those cursed buildings trivial and, for the most part, unnecessary for future activities. Those who delivered the endless drawl of trite lessons were often cruel and impatient, stereotyping all those forced to attend as simpletons unworthy of the "impeccable" knowledge they bore. They often reeked of things resurrected from the dead, as if they'd been teaching minors for thousands of years, punishment for a crime they committed in biblical times.
Those children who were forced to attend were no better than the teachers. Most of them were malicious little fiends, seeking pleasure from other's pain, always eager to tear their fellow classmates down so others wouldn't notice their own flaws. He was often the target of their cruelty, because of the way he looked or the withdrawn attitude he bore. Though he had the same basic structure as they did, thanks to the bodily appearance he stole, they still managed to find faults in his every action and attribute.
"I have no friends to protect me from these human demons," he muttered, slender eyebrows drawing down over his framed lime-green eyes. "I've frightened away all possible companionship." His voice faltered, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent tears from falling. He recalled his actions at winter camp with much regret. His desperate yearning for popularity turned on him, and the result was quite the opposite of what he desired.
He hadn't meant for everything to turn out so wrong. He hadn't meant to strike fear into the hearts of his classmates. He'd only wanted acceptance. But now, it seemed he'd always be an outcast, hated and feared by humanity. His own parents either didn't know, or didn't care about the severity of his problem. They were far too wrapped up in each other to do much of anything with him, their own flesh and blood.
His footsteps slowed, and Nergal Junior lifted his eyes towards the tall brick building of hell. It was here he was sentenced to suffer, for seven more years of endless hurt. Filled with grief and spite, he sullenly turned, and trudged up the leaf-sprinkled sidewalk to the steps. He could hear the whispers of the children, staring and mocking him from the grass on either side of the walkway.
He winced, lowering his head and shoving his hands deeper within his coat pocket. Raucous laughter erupted from the bike racks aside the steps, voices proclaiming in mock fear, "Don't mess with him! He'll turn you into a snowman!" He quickened his pace, practically tripping over his own feet in the rush. Tapping hastily up the stairs, he trotted towards the double doors, eager to enter and escape from the stares of his peers. Unfortunately, his haste filled him with too much adrenaline, and momentum disabled him from avoiding the one bursting out of the building.
White-hot pain shot like lightning through his face as he met with the swinging iron door. Junior fell back, clutching a now-bloodied nose and cracking glasses, letting out a soft wail of anguish. Stumbling and drunken with pain, he struggled to compose himself, his legs turning to rubber beneath him. As he lurched away from the swinging arc of the door, his heavily-booted foot missed the first step, and he found himself sprawling backwards onto the concrete below. He hit the ground harder than he ever expected to, breath forced out of his lungs in a gush. The sky blurred and spun above him, his world a spiral of hurt.
Laughter exploded around him, seemingly amplified in his throbbing head, and he felt hot tears stinging his eyes. He wanted to curl up and disappear forever. Embarrassment burned his face, his already deflated self esteem taking a plunge into an unknown low. Just as he felt he as about to break down into open sobs, he felt someone rush to his side.
"Oh geez! I'm soooo sorry!" a voice sounded from above him, "I had no idea you were there! I was just so filled with the HAPPY!!! The nurse just finished fixing up my nose after that stupid drinking fountain tried to eat it, and I guess --"
The voice faltered, and Junior stiffly turned his head towards its source. Tears and pain blurred his vision, but the muddle of fleshy hues before him struck a familiar chord. Where had he seen his person before? It seemed the feeling of previous acquaintance was mutual.
"Heeey. . . don't I know you from somewhere?"
The son of Nergal lifted a shaky hand to his broken glasses, pulling them gingerly from his face. He rubbed his free hand over his eyes, forcing away the fog. Returning his now-misshapen spectacles to his eyes, he regarded the person before him. A gasp escaped his throat as he realized just who it was he was speaking to.
"B-Billy!"
--~~*~~--
*abrupt halt of the gibberish*
--~~*~~--
That's the first chapter. Yep. I think it stinketh. Maybe the next chapter'll be better. Sorry it kinda just. . . cuts off. I'm tired of writing. You can probably tell. The last ten paragraphs were all rushed. Grr. My head throbs. Forgive me and shut up.
or review. Review's good too. My air-qualities right for burning, so flame away. That made no sense, did it? Bah. I need a cough drop.