Hi all! This is your favorite author of all time speaking (JK I know you
guys hate me :P)
This shall be a good chapter *poses* Anywayz on to it! Disclaimer: I seriously doubt I am Yasuhiro Nightow, and if I was well I
would be basking in the knowledge that I
was the one who created Trigun.
Knives stared at Reba's thoroughly wet and naked body. She looks good, no scratch that, excellent. Knives could feel the blood rushing to a particular part of his anatomy and went red with embarrassment. Suddenly Knives became aware of what he was thinking and what his body was doing and grew instantly sick with himself. "Hello? Are you going to turn around or are you going to continue to stare at me?" Reba asked. Knives was looking kind of green, but never-the-less, he grunted and rolled over. Reba chuckled quietly, enjoying being the cause of Knives dissent. "Shut up bitch." Knives grumbled. The chuckling stopped immediately and was replaced by shuffling around which (Knives hoped) meant she was getting dressed. The moving-about noises stopped and Knives rolled back over.
"Hey I'm going to go out for a little while.I probably won't be back maybe until morning." Knives grunted to show he understood. What was he, her mom? Well actually, Knives snickered, I might as well be, the way I watch out for her. He closed his eyes to see if he could get away from the thoughts about his brother, and other more intimate things *heh heh* that were haunting him. He heard the bedroom door close before he drifted off into an oblivion of dreamlessness.
*******************************
The man could feel his thighs and hips start to get warm, and although the night was cool, the air that made its way through his inflamed lungs tasted hot against his lips. The stitch in his side was only getting worse and the feeling of fatigue was coming on fast. He looked behind him, whatever, or whoever it was that was chasing him was gone. (A/N: You were thinking something ELSE was going on weren't you? *wink wink*) He stopped to catch his breath. Bending over he heard the thud, thud, thud, of his overly- worked heart. He looked around one more time. That person had chased him for a long time, but he must have lost him. Well I should have, he thinks to himself, I was running for a long time. He hadn't expected this. I mean Gunsmoke is pretty peaceful sometimes and most people will shoot you rather than involve themselves in a running competition. I wonder who it was?
High above the worn out man, sitting in a tree (A/N: I know there aren't many trees on Gunsmoke but just bear with me) someone was still watching. "Pitiful humans, they are always thinking they are so strong. I guess that is my purpose.to teach them otherwise." The eyes of the watcher shimmered coal-black in the dim light of a crescent moon. "My time is here." And with that the specter slid quietly out of the tree and landed silently behind the still-panting man.
The man again felt the ominous presence behind him but this time it was much closer than it had ever been before. He had felt while he was running, that he/she/it was holding off, toying with him, but he had thrust that idea aside. Now he was positive, whatever it was it was going to get him now. Not if I can help it, his survival instinct piped up. He turned around quickly flinging his arm behind him hoping to catch whatever it was across the chest.
Nothing. He had hit nothing but air. He stared into the wood in front of him trying to discern any shapes that might look threatening. Still nothing. The feeling of another presence was gone and he felt alone in the darkness. He, after much deliberation, thought that maybe, just maybe, he was mistaken this whole time. He backed up a couple steps and ran into something quite solid. "Slip into darkness.." a soft voice said.
An owl hooted dolefully as it watched the grisly scene unfold before his amber eyes. Under the dirty light of an anorexic moon, a feast was taking place. A dark creature with coal eyes was cradling a man's pale body, draining it of its life force while the night eyes of the forest watched silently.
A red brown head would tip back occasionally causing a cascade of crimson down its porcelain cheeks. A leather clad body adorned with maroon splotches seemed to dance to the tune of death under the moonlight. There was a thud as the person dropped the drained corpse and everything was suddenly thrown into a pool of light that seemed to shine from hell itself as Reba quietly ripped off a piece of the mans stained shirt and wiped her mouth.
A/N: Bet you weren't expecting that were you??? MWUAHAHAHAHA!! Or maybe you were.
guys hate me :P)
This shall be a good chapter *poses* Anywayz on to it! Disclaimer: I seriously doubt I am Yasuhiro Nightow, and if I was well I
would be basking in the knowledge that I
was the one who created Trigun.
Knives stared at Reba's thoroughly wet and naked body. She looks good, no scratch that, excellent. Knives could feel the blood rushing to a particular part of his anatomy and went red with embarrassment. Suddenly Knives became aware of what he was thinking and what his body was doing and grew instantly sick with himself. "Hello? Are you going to turn around or are you going to continue to stare at me?" Reba asked. Knives was looking kind of green, but never-the-less, he grunted and rolled over. Reba chuckled quietly, enjoying being the cause of Knives dissent. "Shut up bitch." Knives grumbled. The chuckling stopped immediately and was replaced by shuffling around which (Knives hoped) meant she was getting dressed. The moving-about noises stopped and Knives rolled back over.
"Hey I'm going to go out for a little while.I probably won't be back maybe until morning." Knives grunted to show he understood. What was he, her mom? Well actually, Knives snickered, I might as well be, the way I watch out for her. He closed his eyes to see if he could get away from the thoughts about his brother, and other more intimate things *heh heh* that were haunting him. He heard the bedroom door close before he drifted off into an oblivion of dreamlessness.
*******************************
The man could feel his thighs and hips start to get warm, and although the night was cool, the air that made its way through his inflamed lungs tasted hot against his lips. The stitch in his side was only getting worse and the feeling of fatigue was coming on fast. He looked behind him, whatever, or whoever it was that was chasing him was gone. (A/N: You were thinking something ELSE was going on weren't you? *wink wink*) He stopped to catch his breath. Bending over he heard the thud, thud, thud, of his overly- worked heart. He looked around one more time. That person had chased him for a long time, but he must have lost him. Well I should have, he thinks to himself, I was running for a long time. He hadn't expected this. I mean Gunsmoke is pretty peaceful sometimes and most people will shoot you rather than involve themselves in a running competition. I wonder who it was?
High above the worn out man, sitting in a tree (A/N: I know there aren't many trees on Gunsmoke but just bear with me) someone was still watching. "Pitiful humans, they are always thinking they are so strong. I guess that is my purpose.to teach them otherwise." The eyes of the watcher shimmered coal-black in the dim light of a crescent moon. "My time is here." And with that the specter slid quietly out of the tree and landed silently behind the still-panting man.
The man again felt the ominous presence behind him but this time it was much closer than it had ever been before. He had felt while he was running, that he/she/it was holding off, toying with him, but he had thrust that idea aside. Now he was positive, whatever it was it was going to get him now. Not if I can help it, his survival instinct piped up. He turned around quickly flinging his arm behind him hoping to catch whatever it was across the chest.
Nothing. He had hit nothing but air. He stared into the wood in front of him trying to discern any shapes that might look threatening. Still nothing. The feeling of another presence was gone and he felt alone in the darkness. He, after much deliberation, thought that maybe, just maybe, he was mistaken this whole time. He backed up a couple steps and ran into something quite solid. "Slip into darkness.." a soft voice said.
An owl hooted dolefully as it watched the grisly scene unfold before his amber eyes. Under the dirty light of an anorexic moon, a feast was taking place. A dark creature with coal eyes was cradling a man's pale body, draining it of its life force while the night eyes of the forest watched silently.
A red brown head would tip back occasionally causing a cascade of crimson down its porcelain cheeks. A leather clad body adorned with maroon splotches seemed to dance to the tune of death under the moonlight. There was a thud as the person dropped the drained corpse and everything was suddenly thrown into a pool of light that seemed to shine from hell itself as Reba quietly ripped off a piece of the mans stained shirt and wiped her mouth.
A/N: Bet you weren't expecting that were you??? MWUAHAHAHAHA!! Or maybe you were.