A/N Format issues. No real note here.
I hate this wretched willow soul of mine, patiently enduring, plaited or twisted by other hands. ~ Karin Boye
Twisted.
Everything is twisted, now.
Their hands reach up, begging for help, screaming as they burn for eternity. Swirls form as they melt and sink only to rise and twist again. (An unbreakable cycle, even now, millenniums later, even now, as he watches.) The guards have no faces, either, not that he can see. There is nothing in their eyes but darkness.
The darkness twists also, as his family burns. It licks at the sides and swells when the screaming reaches it's loudest. Greedy, the darkness is very greedy. (And this, along with the suffering, does not change - even when his role has been reversed.) It twists and twists around everything so it can have everything.
His parents (the ones burning and twisting and screaming) taught him to want everything. Years later he finds the darkness very fitting for that.
But now (or then, for it's all the same in the ring) he is just a boy, whose innocence has been stolen. The shadows behind him grow and expand and twist -
And he stares.
Learns.
Hates.
A/N Long time no update, huh? I'm really sorry...but NaNo just caught up with me. I sure hope all you guys are doing a lot better. Anyway, expect updates to resume normally next month.
(And I'm no even going to comment on the 400 reviews thing, because my mind would just explode from too much amazing.)
Reviews are loved! =)
