I"ve had one of those bursts of inspiration a few days ago. I decided to revive one of my planned projects that I never got around to writing. I tried to incorporate some art in there too. That"s where the .5 comes in. Chapters consist of regular text, and then if a .5 is added, a dialogue section with some art to make it easier to visualize the expressions and mood.
It"s rather short, so it won"t be too bad for you. >c
Drop a comment, anything - even reading it - is appreciated, really. c:
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:!: Note: This “Chapter” came out more sarcastic than I expected. It"s not a happy part, that"s for sure.
[spoilerChapter 1 - King of the Night:dispv7wt][i]They kicked me out of the house. The usual. I always screwed up too much. No matter how much I tried to fix the problems I created, I ended up creating more. My effort, in vain.
The streets were dark, but the warm glow of the street lights illuminated the night. Leaves trembled as a gust of cold, chilly air tumbled blindly through the deserted place which had been aptly named “Franklin Laneâ€.
With a sputtering roar, the sound of a motorcycle echoed through the solitary town. The bikers. The most despised. They were an infamous, rowdy group of wannabe Hell’s Angels. Everyone hated them, and I did too.
“Heh. I’m such a hypocrite,†I mumbled. My misty breath swirled into the air.
The irony of my thoughts burned its curse into my brain. They always talked about me. What a troublesome young fellow, they’d say. You shouldn’t attack others, they scolded me.
The night of the city was another world to me. It gave me a whole new life of my very own. One where I was free from the nagging of “adultsâ€, “guardiansâ€, “authoritiesâ€, and “the reasonableâ€. One where I could happily take a breath of this cold air with pride, dignity, confidence, and courage. There was no one I feared on the dull, gray, cold concrete.
Was I really any different? But, it’s not like I cared.
Like a proud and strong stallion, the lone motorcycle pulled up next to me.
“Kid, pay up. Ya know whad’s gunna happn’ to ya if ya mess wid’ us.â€
A single biker, who smelled of smoke and cheap booze, boasted. He sat on his mount, confident.
. . . Overconfident.
The man was not a native of Amity, the quiet town where I called home. His leather jacket was still intact, and he didn’t seem to have any scratches on him. Soon, he’d learn how the night ran this place. Soon, he’d learn to fear me.
“Ya messed with th’ wrong kid, pal.â€
They’ll all get a warm welcome from me, and I’d like to talk with my fists. [/i]
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[spoilerChapter 1.5 - King of the Night:dispv7wt]http://img850.imageshack.us/img850/1372/ch15kingofthenight.png
( Zoom in if you need to.)
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:la:
