I love dogs and books~. Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
I am the animation designer of a mining company.
Pictures I have drawn are on my DeviantART account.
Snippet of Thought:
She wandered off the bridge, dropping into the fog that seemed to engulf her thoughts in hope that her wish would be fulfilled and concentrated on the blurry image of herself from afar, thinking of how she used to be. She watched as the picture stretched and grew into a large mass that clouded her vision and threatened to swallow her. She tried to run away, tried desperately, but she couldn’t. She must wait. Her wish had to be obeyed and unless she stayed, it wouldn’t. She paused and sat down, waiting for her memories to take her away.
It was dark and vague in her box, with blank walls and a dirty ceiling. She was ragged, her face grubby and her long black hair a mess. She whimpered, and huddled into herself even more.
It was getting cold again, and she was tired. She wanted to sleep, but the seemingly constant torture kept her on guard at all times. Her eyes were bloodshot from not sleeping for days, maybe weeks or months, even years. She wondered how long she’d been in this cramped prison.
The temperature in her box dropped rapidly, and she started to scream. Black shadows drifted through her, and she felt nonexistent and meaningless.
Hours later, the temperature rose higher and higher until her skin burned and her hair became singed. Her throat was parched. It got hotter and hotter, so hot that she felt she would die from choking. But she couldn’t die, not from the heat or the cold that froze her, the needles that pricked and produced red, hot syrup, not even from the shadows that indulged in her life, energy, enjoyed eating her soul.
How much longer? she thought.
She jolted at this unexpected intrusion. She’d been told the. . . things that kept her here could communicate with her, but it had not happened to her before.
“He. . .lo?” Her voice cracked and she couldn’t speak very well after her time of imprisonment with no companion to talk to.
She wondered if anyone had really spoken to her, or if she was going crazy. If she was, maybe it would be a relief after all her physical pain.
She waited, listening for evidence that there was a voice besides hers.
Then her skin started to feel clammy and cold, like frozen hands touching her all over. Her muscles began to bunch up, and she felt icy liquid oozing out of er.
She furrowed her brow in pain as she was blinded by a sheet of vast nothingness.
Maybe I am going crazy after all.
Errikos dragged his shoes across the cement ground, making swishing sounds as he passed. His neck was staring at the sky and the deep blue abyss’s tears dripped down his long nose. Hair stuck to his skin as he walked, delicately lacing it with cold, wet, bronze lines.
He wandered off the curb towards his apartment, a shady place with lots of paint and dust everywhere. Many older men walked in and out of the building, mostly dressed in low-priced Tees and jeans, gruff looks on their faces. They were tough and mean, but Errikos didn’t care. He just needed a place to lay low for a while, and his apartment was fine for that. He didn’t have much money anyway.
He paced into the sloped building and took the drafty, unclean stairs to his apartment where he lay down on his worn-down bed. He didn’t care that he was getting it wet from his sopping clothes. He just stayed there and thought.
She waited until the pain was swept away by the numbing cold again. It felt good sometimes, but other times it stung like hell. The walls didn’t get much colder, and she wondered what happened. Before she could ponder it at all, she felt her limbs go slack and she knew she was going to fall asleep. Her head slid down the wall and she whacked the ground hard.
So be it. She needed to rest and she couldn’t control her body anyway. It took so much willpower to just let go after all the built up stress on her muscles, but she was able to relax. She hoped this would happen again soon. Then maybe she could control herself and try to figure out what happened. Her eyes drooped, heavy and wet. Did her jailers slip up? She wondered about this as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Errikos walked to a convenience store a few blocks past his apartment. It was dirty and smelled like wet cigarettes, damp and like mildew, with some disgusting stains covering the outer walls. But he didn’t really mind. The store served its purpose.
The doorbell dinged as he trudged in. The store owner gave him the eye while Errikos browsed through the magazines. Lots of them had erotic pictures of attractive girls in unnatural poses. He wasn’t interested in the girls or the ads, so he walked to the gift cards in the back of the store, looking at them for a long moment like they would jump out and bite him.
“Whadd’ya want?” the store owner asked, staring Errikos down.
He paused before answering, “I gotta go somewhere tonight. Meet one of my folks. You have any cards or stuff like that I could give ’em?” His accent was well practiced; Errikos wasn’t fond of anyone tracing back where he came from.
The owner stared at him for a minute, trying to tell if he was serious. “Nah. Not enough money. Go somewhere else, brat. One of those expensive malls’ll help you.” His voice was worn down and gravelly. He clearly didn’t spend too much time with “brats.”
Errikos nodded and excused himself from the store after buying a few packs of gum and a lotto ticket. He wandered down the streets until he stopped at a rundown bar. He didn’t pause before entering. The older men bent over their drinks looked at him as if he was a huge cockroach holding a bible. Errikos didn’t stop and glance at them, instead walking confidently over to the counter and sitting down on one of the large stools.