I am a godzilla fan, and i took my writing style to it.
It isn't finished but i doubt it ever will
The True King of Monsters
A roar of unfathomable pain echoed across the decimated crater in downtown Tokyo. Godzilla lay on the ground beneath this seemingly invincible three-headed dragon. The atomic behemoth was dying and this would be his final fight.
King Ghidorah staggered away from the nuclear abomination, screeching in triumph and great arrogance. Mustering all the strength he possessed, Godzilla managed to rise up. The great Dragon looked down at him with visible superiority. King Ghidorah hesitated, expecting more from the once great Titan who now was too feeble and powerless to save himself.
Ghidorah bit down hard on the warm flesh and irradiated blood trickled down the helpless beast's side to the ground. Godzilla emitted a soft, miserably weak roar as the dragon's left head joined in the feast of nuclear flesh. Crackling in the night, Godzilla's dorsal plates began glowing with a pitiful pale blue light. King Ghidorah relinquished the creature from his ferocious grip and stepped back, preparing for a nuclear assault.
The King of Monsters' jaws opened, preparing to release the atomic flame that would change the tide of this battle but instead, a mere burning wind emerged to lightly singe the dragon's center mug. This final act irrevocably elevated King Ghidorah to a new level of certainty that he was unequalled. He was now stronger and more confident that in any challenge he would succeed, dooming all beneath the true King of Monsters.
Ghidorah released a long, drawn out shriek, raising his magnificent golden wings as if Godzilla had already fallen to his great might. Oblivious to the derision of the space dragon, Godzilla swayed, unconscious in the wind. Enraged, King Ghidorah reared back his three vicious heads and unleashed a ruinous blast into his cataleptic foe. The bolts sliced through Godzilla's dorsal spines and toward the rising sun, destroying many smaller buildings as King Ghidorah rose aloft to greet the new day.
The carcass of the former king lay beneath Ghidorah in a pool of greenish blood. Godzilla's entire upper torso had been mutilated and torn by the explosion of energy, exposing nerves and organs the size of busses. Ghidorah had triumphed over the one thing stopping him from this planet, from a new home.
The First Day
"Tokyo has been destroyed; we repeat Tokyo has been totally destroyed!"
Shadows had fought the light for at least six hours now so when the television snapped off the entire room was overcome. The apartment had gone to hell, everything had rotted, burned out or lay askew across the floor. Two rooms of chaotic shit and anguish was all she had now.
I silent and pitiful cry shot through the darkness reaching out for something and finding nothing, as the sound faded so did the hope. The silence shattered again, a whimper... A dry splash, the silence grasped the room again.
Her eyes opened, taking in the small ray of moonlight the green eyes stabbed into the darkness. As her vision adjusted a familiar sight appeared, blood. Every cut was a wall that would suppress and conceal reality, stress, and death from her. Only the sight of blood could shatter her false world; stresses, fears, and self hate brewed in her head once again. Lifting the crimson stained blade, her arm writhed; the last few cuts had gone deeper then she had realized.
During the past few weeks she had endured pain religiously, and like everything else she could chain it up and cram it away. Growing and eating away at her, the plague of anguish numbed common sense and self worth.
Warm blood dripped down her neck, the blade lay flat against her throat.
Everything had just dissolved her family, job, and personal life. None of that had prepared her for this, what the beast had taken away.
Her grip tensed, the blade seemed like the one thing that could release her from this agony that engulfed her. The edge of a blade had never felt more appealing then it did now; cold and lifeless.
Something speared through her whole body, echoing throughout her mind. The phone rang. Everything stopped except the melodic ringing, her common sense returned from its slumber. As her muscles relaxed, her mind did so too.
Blade still firmly gripped, she stood up. The ringing stopped abruptly.
"Isuka can you hear me, Isuka are you okay!" The voice boomed with concern and fear, as familiar as it was her mind was racing to quickly for her to match it to a face. She could not answer, her thoughts were too distant.
As pitiful as her response was, the caller continued his pleas to the girl.
"Talk to me Isuka! I'm on my way over; don't do anything till I get there. You hear me! Don't hurt yourself, couldn't live knowing you hurt yourself". His voice coaxed and soothed her but she was too deep in shock to reply.
"I love you" the drone of the receiver muffled his words. Just the thought that he couldn't help her for the next five minutes sent him into a stressful frustration, gripping the steering wheel he sped through the barren streets.
"How could I have been so blind, I could have done something. I let her get this bad, it's all my fault." He couldn't hold it in, his frustration took voice. "The change was so drastic, how could I have just ignored it. I waited to long, she..she could hurt herself", he was now on the verge of tears. His frustration overpowered him. "She was too quiet, too isolated, I could see it". The cold twilight of the night was shattered by the car speeding through the street. His eyes wandered, he was now going fifteen miles over the speed limit.
Dillon having already had his normal shift, loathed the graveyard shift that he was expected to do on this cold winter nights. He would whine constantly to his wife that she should stop spending so much money on herself so he wouldn't have to do overtime. Dillon was actually relieved when he was assigned these late night shifts. He was finally alone, no wife, no nagging, none of it could bother him. Tonight was different though, he had received a call about a homicide near where he lived. It was about 6 p.m. when he got to the place of the call; he arrived to find three mangled corpses lying on a blood drenched bed. Dillon bragged that he wasn't squeamish but he couldn't help but turn away at the site of the bodies. The way that were laid so neatly on the bed, each one with a single stab in the chest, it was like nothing he had seen before. But that was five hours ago and after a much needed couple of beers he was able to relax in his car.
How irritated it must have been for a black Honda civic to come zooming in front of him. Dillon pulled out of the alley, brewing with frustration and anger that his dormancy was now broken by some punk.
The rear view mirror ignited in red and blue light, this woke Kyle out of his self argument. "Fuck, no I got to get to her...." the sirens grew louder as the cop came within inches of a fender bender. Kyle gave up and pulled over, New York cops aren't the type you ignore.
Dillon slammed his door shut and walked towards the pulled over car, he was hardly dressed for the bitter cold and it pulled him into a worst mood. "Do you know how fast you were going back there", with visible anger Dillon asked the young driver.
"I'm not sure, I'm in a hurry-"
"There is no excuse to break the law"
"Sorry but if I don't make it in time someone might not live through the night", Kyle spoke with honest concern.
"What is the problem", Dillon asked irritably.
Kyle paced the lobby of the Hospital; the nurses had given up on reassuring him. He had been told that the ambulance had got their and picked her up, but he still tense. Eyes circled with vibrant black rings, Kyle could have easily been mistaken for someone that was in for drug abuse. Again a nurse appeared from the counter, this time carrying a form. "Here, this might take your mind of the situation", she spoke with such relaxation and comfort that he took the form and sat down.
Kyle looked over the form; age 26, birthday 2/16/79 and that information he jotted down without a thought. Eye color; he remembered when her eyes were empty of emotion, the green had faded and all that remained was anguish. The clip board and form hit the cold tile floor, startled; the counter nurse looked up at the grossly pitiful heap of a man that sat on the lobby chair. All the fatigue and stress had worn him down. Tears seeped from his strained eyes.
Short story by Sithre Lateralus
Read 880 times
Written on 2005-05-31 at 02:57
Tags Fear
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It isn't finished but i doubt it ever will
Goji/suicide Scene
PrologueThe True King of Monsters
A roar of unfathomable pain echoed across the decimated crater in downtown Tokyo. Godzilla lay on the ground beneath this seemingly invincible three-headed dragon. The atomic behemoth was dying and this would be his final fight.
King Ghidorah staggered away from the nuclear abomination, screeching in triumph and great arrogance. Mustering all the strength he possessed, Godzilla managed to rise up. The great Dragon looked down at him with visible superiority. King Ghidorah hesitated, expecting more from the once great Titan who now was too feeble and powerless to save himself.
Ghidorah bit down hard on the warm flesh and irradiated blood trickled down the helpless beast's side to the ground. Godzilla emitted a soft, miserably weak roar as the dragon's left head joined in the feast of nuclear flesh. Crackling in the night, Godzilla's dorsal plates began glowing with a pitiful pale blue light. King Ghidorah relinquished the creature from his ferocious grip and stepped back, preparing for a nuclear assault.
The King of Monsters' jaws opened, preparing to release the atomic flame that would change the tide of this battle but instead, a mere burning wind emerged to lightly singe the dragon's center mug. This final act irrevocably elevated King Ghidorah to a new level of certainty that he was unequalled. He was now stronger and more confident that in any challenge he would succeed, dooming all beneath the true King of Monsters.
Ghidorah released a long, drawn out shriek, raising his magnificent golden wings as if Godzilla had already fallen to his great might. Oblivious to the derision of the space dragon, Godzilla swayed, unconscious in the wind. Enraged, King Ghidorah reared back his three vicious heads and unleashed a ruinous blast into his cataleptic foe. The bolts sliced through Godzilla's dorsal spines and toward the rising sun, destroying many smaller buildings as King Ghidorah rose aloft to greet the new day.
The carcass of the former king lay beneath Ghidorah in a pool of greenish blood. Godzilla's entire upper torso had been mutilated and torn by the explosion of energy, exposing nerves and organs the size of busses. Ghidorah had triumphed over the one thing stopping him from this planet, from a new home.
The First Day
"Tokyo has been destroyed; we repeat Tokyo has been totally destroyed!"
Shadows had fought the light for at least six hours now so when the television snapped off the entire room was overcome. The apartment had gone to hell, everything had rotted, burned out or lay askew across the floor. Two rooms of chaotic shit and anguish was all she had now.
I silent and pitiful cry shot through the darkness reaching out for something and finding nothing, as the sound faded so did the hope. The silence shattered again, a whimper... A dry splash, the silence grasped the room again.
Her eyes opened, taking in the small ray of moonlight the green eyes stabbed into the darkness. As her vision adjusted a familiar sight appeared, blood. Every cut was a wall that would suppress and conceal reality, stress, and death from her. Only the sight of blood could shatter her false world; stresses, fears, and self hate brewed in her head once again. Lifting the crimson stained blade, her arm writhed; the last few cuts had gone deeper then she had realized.
During the past few weeks she had endured pain religiously, and like everything else she could chain it up and cram it away. Growing and eating away at her, the plague of anguish numbed common sense and self worth.
Warm blood dripped down her neck, the blade lay flat against her throat.
Everything had just dissolved her family, job, and personal life. None of that had prepared her for this, what the beast had taken away.
Her grip tensed, the blade seemed like the one thing that could release her from this agony that engulfed her. The edge of a blade had never felt more appealing then it did now; cold and lifeless.
Something speared through her whole body, echoing throughout her mind. The phone rang. Everything stopped except the melodic ringing, her common sense returned from its slumber. As her muscles relaxed, her mind did so too.
Blade still firmly gripped, she stood up. The ringing stopped abruptly.
"Isuka can you hear me, Isuka are you okay!" The voice boomed with concern and fear, as familiar as it was her mind was racing to quickly for her to match it to a face. She could not answer, her thoughts were too distant.
As pitiful as her response was, the caller continued his pleas to the girl.
"Talk to me Isuka! I'm on my way over; don't do anything till I get there. You hear me! Don't hurt yourself, couldn't live knowing you hurt yourself". His voice coaxed and soothed her but she was too deep in shock to reply.
"I love you" the drone of the receiver muffled his words. Just the thought that he couldn't help her for the next five minutes sent him into a stressful frustration, gripping the steering wheel he sped through the barren streets.
"How could I have been so blind, I could have done something. I let her get this bad, it's all my fault." He couldn't hold it in, his frustration took voice. "The change was so drastic, how could I have just ignored it. I waited to long, she..she could hurt herself", he was now on the verge of tears. His frustration overpowered him. "She was too quiet, too isolated, I could see it". The cold twilight of the night was shattered by the car speeding through the street. His eyes wandered, he was now going fifteen miles over the speed limit.
Dillon having already had his normal shift, loathed the graveyard shift that he was expected to do on this cold winter nights. He would whine constantly to his wife that she should stop spending so much money on herself so he wouldn't have to do overtime. Dillon was actually relieved when he was assigned these late night shifts. He was finally alone, no wife, no nagging, none of it could bother him. Tonight was different though, he had received a call about a homicide near where he lived. It was about 6 p.m. when he got to the place of the call; he arrived to find three mangled corpses lying on a blood drenched bed. Dillon bragged that he wasn't squeamish but he couldn't help but turn away at the site of the bodies. The way that were laid so neatly on the bed, each one with a single stab in the chest, it was like nothing he had seen before. But that was five hours ago and after a much needed couple of beers he was able to relax in his car.
How irritated it must have been for a black Honda civic to come zooming in front of him. Dillon pulled out of the alley, brewing with frustration and anger that his dormancy was now broken by some punk.
The rear view mirror ignited in red and blue light, this woke Kyle out of his self argument. "Fuck, no I got to get to her...." the sirens grew louder as the cop came within inches of a fender bender. Kyle gave up and pulled over, New York cops aren't the type you ignore.
Dillon slammed his door shut and walked towards the pulled over car, he was hardly dressed for the bitter cold and it pulled him into a worst mood. "Do you know how fast you were going back there", with visible anger Dillon asked the young driver.
"I'm not sure, I'm in a hurry-"
"There is no excuse to break the law"
"Sorry but if I don't make it in time someone might not live through the night", Kyle spoke with honest concern.
"What is the problem", Dillon asked irritably.
Kyle paced the lobby of the Hospital; the nurses had given up on reassuring him. He had been told that the ambulance had got their and picked her up, but he still tense. Eyes circled with vibrant black rings, Kyle could have easily been mistaken for someone that was in for drug abuse. Again a nurse appeared from the counter, this time carrying a form. "Here, this might take your mind of the situation", she spoke with such relaxation and comfort that he took the form and sat down.
Kyle looked over the form; age 26, birthday 2/16/79 and that information he jotted down without a thought. Eye color; he remembered when her eyes were empty of emotion, the green had faded and all that remained was anguish. The clip board and form hit the cold tile floor, startled; the counter nurse looked up at the grossly pitiful heap of a man that sat on the lobby chair. All the fatigue and stress had worn him down. Tears seeped from his strained eyes.
Short story by Sithre Lateralus
Read 880 times
Written on 2005-05-31 at 02:57
Tags Fear
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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