nipper
01-28-2009, 02:40 PM
Hi normally I right small poems but I decided to try a story. There is a little Latin. Please post your opinions.
I don’t know. Maybe that is the true answer. I mean all this began with the day I bought that book. It is called the beginners guide to necromancy. I thought it was just a joke so I took it home, you know just to play around. I showed it to my sister, who by the way is of her rocker, and she said why not give it a try. Now I hate to say it but I agreed. We went and bought all the ingredients to this one spell we saw called vita excedere. Now once we did this we simply waited for our parents to go to work then went out to the shed. There we drew a pentagram with chicken blood and chanted the mantra eighteen times, but nothing happened at first. We were just getting ready to clean up when a thick fog filled the room. We were frozen with a kind of fear that filled us rendering each limb incapable of movement. Then she was dead. My sister was lying on the floor with her head separated from her shoulders in a pool of blood that could only be her own. That was the better part of the memory. Over her stood a man of pale skin that seemed to hold the air around me. In his hands was a scythe that’s purpose was only met by the creatures blood lust, but the worst part was his eyes. They were as red as the blood in which he stood. He said that he was death and he desired blood. That he would kill all but me for I was his link to this world that has the one thing he craves. Then he left. I found myself walking, because I couldn’t stay home. My sister’s death would be very hard to explain. I took nothing but that book with me and I walked for years. During that time I heard of the gruesome deaths made by the creature I raised, and I decided the best way to fight him was to read. I read the book until I knew every word, but I never had the courage to do what I have too to end this. I decided to break his bond when I heard he had killed a young girl in Utah. Her brother was so upset he poisoned him self. Now, before I throw myself over the edge of the bridge, I wonder. Why did I let this happen, and the answer is I don’t know.
I don’t know. Maybe that is the true answer. I mean all this began with the day I bought that book. It is called the beginners guide to necromancy. I thought it was just a joke so I took it home, you know just to play around. I showed it to my sister, who by the way is of her rocker, and she said why not give it a try. Now I hate to say it but I agreed. We went and bought all the ingredients to this one spell we saw called vita excedere. Now once we did this we simply waited for our parents to go to work then went out to the shed. There we drew a pentagram with chicken blood and chanted the mantra eighteen times, but nothing happened at first. We were just getting ready to clean up when a thick fog filled the room. We were frozen with a kind of fear that filled us rendering each limb incapable of movement. Then she was dead. My sister was lying on the floor with her head separated from her shoulders in a pool of blood that could only be her own. That was the better part of the memory. Over her stood a man of pale skin that seemed to hold the air around me. In his hands was a scythe that’s purpose was only met by the creatures blood lust, but the worst part was his eyes. They were as red as the blood in which he stood. He said that he was death and he desired blood. That he would kill all but me for I was his link to this world that has the one thing he craves. Then he left. I found myself walking, because I couldn’t stay home. My sister’s death would be very hard to explain. I took nothing but that book with me and I walked for years. During that time I heard of the gruesome deaths made by the creature I raised, and I decided the best way to fight him was to read. I read the book until I knew every word, but I never had the courage to do what I have too to end this. I decided to break his bond when I heard he had killed a young girl in Utah. Her brother was so upset he poisoned him self. Now, before I throw myself over the edge of the bridge, I wonder. Why did I let this happen, and the answer is I don’t know.