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In my mouth was the warm, salty taste of blood. All around me was an inferno, acompanied by screams and cries. In my hand the shotgun was a child's toy, nothing more than a foam dart gun. To these humans, however, it made me a demon. The thrill was making my demented side awaken. I didn't care. I was having too much fun. Death was mine to control, and control it I would. By the end of the night I would be victorious in making this place a ghost town. And why stop there? Soon, I would be immortal.

COMMENTS

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yamato0koya
08:30 Nov 15 2008

Wow. You certainly have a way with words. The imagery that you create with only a few sentences is extrodinary.

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