A young man stood, leaning against a smooth, brick-paved wall. He was well armed with two, oversized daggers, ready to prey upon whomever would walk his path. His hair lie relaxed on his shoulders; it was of a raven-feather black, and grew messy with each current of wind that caressed his whole body, leaving his overcoat blowing frantically around him. The wind was sweet to his ears, whispering words of promise, luxury, and vengeance.
The moon peered down upon the lands, and brightened all, but the crevasses in the alleyway in which the young man stood. Much of his area was filled with shadow; this darkness being menacing to others that would pass by, unexpecting of his presence.
And there he was, waiting cooling for the right person; the right time. The young man was half-eager, and half-disgusted at his sickly behavior. He fidgeted impatiently at the dagger on his right side, sheathing and unsheathing it, flipping it about in such a manner that one would think he was a professional murderer; knew just what he was doing, and during each movement the blade would catch the moon light and flash onto the wall opposite from him.
Several minutes went by before the young man caught sight of another moving towards him. He felt his heart beat faster and faster as he made motion to draw his daggers out. In doing this, there was a loud scrapping sound, as everything had grown quiet within the time that the figure was sighted. Once more, light had caught the metal of one of the daggers and shined upon the stranger’s face.
Terror had been caught in the stranger’s eyes. He was to be the unfortunate one, knowing death was sure to come if he could not escape. With that thought, he quickly turned around, only to stumble and fall to the ground. The stranger, though petrified from fear, picked himself up and dashed and turned around the corner. The young man let out a manic laugh -- as to express his relief and excitement, before chasing after him.
The moon peered down upon the lands, and brightened all, but the crevasses in the alleyway in which the young man stood. Much of his area was filled with shadow; this darkness being menacing to others that would pass by, unexpecting of his presence.
And there he was, waiting cooling for the right person; the right time. The young man was half-eager, and half-disgusted at his sickly behavior. He fidgeted impatiently at the dagger on his right side, sheathing and unsheathing it, flipping it about in such a manner that one would think he was a professional murderer; knew just what he was doing, and during each movement the blade would catch the moon light and flash onto the wall opposite from him.
Several minutes went by before the young man caught sight of another moving towards him. He felt his heart beat faster and faster as he made motion to draw his daggers out. In doing this, there was a loud scrapping sound, as everything had grown quiet within the time that the figure was sighted. Once more, light had caught the metal of one of the daggers and shined upon the stranger’s face.
Terror had been caught in the stranger’s eyes. He was to be the unfortunate one, knowing death was sure to come if he could not escape. With that thought, he quickly turned around, only to stumble and fall to the ground. The stranger, though petrified from fear, picked himself up and dashed and turned around the corner. The young man let out a manic laugh -- as to express his relief and excitement, before chasing after him.
(>_> I would like your comments as to how it is so far, for those of whom that read this. No Title yet, btw.)
