Thomas1
02-05-2013, 09:45 AM
Hello. My name is Thomas, I thought I would join this community and share some of my work.
The Death of Love
There was a torrential downpour that day and high gusts of wind were shattering the branches of the tropical trees, so that they arched and shrouded the side of the road. The time had come for an untimely passing, and Death, having come to the conclusion that a car crash would be far too predictable, considering the extremity of the weather conditions, had decided to assume one of his more playful roles – The Hitcher. Beyond the clouds, there was a glimpse of the pale light of the full moon, and fingering the rim of his black hat, Death breathed the first breath of this particular human form. ‘Alas!’ he whispered aloud – ‘these sensations have evaded me far too long!’ His last project was a plague that wiped out the entire population of a small fishing village thirty miles east of Bangkok, so he wasn’t actually present to feel the last beat of the human heart. He had always preferred the ‘hands-on’ approach, but God only granted him that special permission every so often, and the last time he took matters into his own hands (a serial killing spree between the years of 1969 – 1978 under the alias of Ted someone-or-other) resulted in a three day death ban, which is the equivalent of a small child having his video games console confiscated for bad behaviour. Since then Death had learned his lesson, and thus this days untimely death was a small reward from God for his good work in that small fishing village near Bangkok. For one day and one day only Death had complete control over the choosing of the person and the cause of their demise.
It is merely a coincidence that on that very day, Love, with her luscious red hair, fair skin and delightful brown eyes, was taking a pleasant joy ride along the very road where Death was hitching. For Love had needs and the thrill of a joy ride on an open road was something that had always satisfied her in a way that nothing else could. The adverse weather conditions led Love to believe that this was a day where she could drive as fast and as recklessly as she pleased with little danger, and that was precisely why she chose it. She wasn’t afraid of a little storm, as she was the supreme being of Love, and why would nature want to harm something so beautiful? Oh! Who would dare harm something so beautiful? Death, on the other hand, with his perverse tendencies would be waiting with that exact idea, admittedly without knowledge of the forbidden atrocity that he was about to commit.
The headlights burned Death’s eyes as he sighted Love’s vehicle coming from around the bend and, as she drew closer, he could make out her flowing red hair and muttered: ‘Come hither sweet maiden. Come hither! Let me drain the blood from your gushing heart!’ The pouring rain was beating down upon Death’s hat, leaving small creases in the material as it did so. Love saw what she believed to be a troubled figure, freezing cold and smothered by the shadows of the trees, and out of the kindness of her heart she pulled into the side of the road: ‘Good evening, stranger! Are you in need of a ride?’ Death made a series of slow pronounced strides towards her wound down window, his blood red eyes staring down into the tarmac: ‘That would be swell, madam. I’m heading to Maidstown, do you know it?’ Love paused for a second while she found her bearings and replied: ‘Why, yes I do! Hop in.’
Custom to the rules, Love had to keep her identity to herself, so when Death asked why such a young woman was driving alone at this late hour, she smiled and said: ‘I’m having trouble with my studies. Usually a late night drive helps me clear my head.’ The next twenty minutes passed with both sitting in stone cold silence. Death could detect a sweet strawberry scent emanating from Love’s delicious body. Having successfully avoided eye contact for the journey so far, Death could help himself no longer and as Love whizzed the vehicle along the winding roads he glared directly into her eyes, the blood red burning deep into Love’s mind. ‘Ah!’ She screamed: ‘I know exactly who you are!’ But it was too late.
Death had driven his knife directly into her sternum and began to twist: ‘You picked the wrong day to clear your head, little woman!’ The vehicle reared off the road and crashed into a lone tree with a great bang. Death lit a cigarette and sat in the wreckage with Love as he waited for her to breathe her final breath. She peered into his eyes: ‘You fool! You do not know what you have done!’ Startled by this, Death jolted in the car seat: ‘Why, what do you mean, little woman? I am Death! I can do what I please!’ Love’s breathing became deeper and deeper and she was struggling that little bit more each time she inhaled: ‘I am Love, arrogant Death! I am the sole being that has kept mankind from it’s now inevitable destruction! Without love in the hearts of man, he will become engulfed by you, foolish Death! Without a mother’s loving touch a boy will grow to harbour a heart of stone! Oh! What have you done? Man will scorch the earth in your name! Man will once again ride into battle without sparing a single thought for his brother! Oh! What have you done? It will not be a meteor collision, a tidal wave, or an earthquake, or even mankind’s ability to harm one another that will bring the end of humanity! No! But the Death of Love.’
The Death of Love
There was a torrential downpour that day and high gusts of wind were shattering the branches of the tropical trees, so that they arched and shrouded the side of the road. The time had come for an untimely passing, and Death, having come to the conclusion that a car crash would be far too predictable, considering the extremity of the weather conditions, had decided to assume one of his more playful roles – The Hitcher. Beyond the clouds, there was a glimpse of the pale light of the full moon, and fingering the rim of his black hat, Death breathed the first breath of this particular human form. ‘Alas!’ he whispered aloud – ‘these sensations have evaded me far too long!’ His last project was a plague that wiped out the entire population of a small fishing village thirty miles east of Bangkok, so he wasn’t actually present to feel the last beat of the human heart. He had always preferred the ‘hands-on’ approach, but God only granted him that special permission every so often, and the last time he took matters into his own hands (a serial killing spree between the years of 1969 – 1978 under the alias of Ted someone-or-other) resulted in a three day death ban, which is the equivalent of a small child having his video games console confiscated for bad behaviour. Since then Death had learned his lesson, and thus this days untimely death was a small reward from God for his good work in that small fishing village near Bangkok. For one day and one day only Death had complete control over the choosing of the person and the cause of their demise.
It is merely a coincidence that on that very day, Love, with her luscious red hair, fair skin and delightful brown eyes, was taking a pleasant joy ride along the very road where Death was hitching. For Love had needs and the thrill of a joy ride on an open road was something that had always satisfied her in a way that nothing else could. The adverse weather conditions led Love to believe that this was a day where she could drive as fast and as recklessly as she pleased with little danger, and that was precisely why she chose it. She wasn’t afraid of a little storm, as she was the supreme being of Love, and why would nature want to harm something so beautiful? Oh! Who would dare harm something so beautiful? Death, on the other hand, with his perverse tendencies would be waiting with that exact idea, admittedly without knowledge of the forbidden atrocity that he was about to commit.
The headlights burned Death’s eyes as he sighted Love’s vehicle coming from around the bend and, as she drew closer, he could make out her flowing red hair and muttered: ‘Come hither sweet maiden. Come hither! Let me drain the blood from your gushing heart!’ The pouring rain was beating down upon Death’s hat, leaving small creases in the material as it did so. Love saw what she believed to be a troubled figure, freezing cold and smothered by the shadows of the trees, and out of the kindness of her heart she pulled into the side of the road: ‘Good evening, stranger! Are you in need of a ride?’ Death made a series of slow pronounced strides towards her wound down window, his blood red eyes staring down into the tarmac: ‘That would be swell, madam. I’m heading to Maidstown, do you know it?’ Love paused for a second while she found her bearings and replied: ‘Why, yes I do! Hop in.’
Custom to the rules, Love had to keep her identity to herself, so when Death asked why such a young woman was driving alone at this late hour, she smiled and said: ‘I’m having trouble with my studies. Usually a late night drive helps me clear my head.’ The next twenty minutes passed with both sitting in stone cold silence. Death could detect a sweet strawberry scent emanating from Love’s delicious body. Having successfully avoided eye contact for the journey so far, Death could help himself no longer and as Love whizzed the vehicle along the winding roads he glared directly into her eyes, the blood red burning deep into Love’s mind. ‘Ah!’ She screamed: ‘I know exactly who you are!’ But it was too late.
Death had driven his knife directly into her sternum and began to twist: ‘You picked the wrong day to clear your head, little woman!’ The vehicle reared off the road and crashed into a lone tree with a great bang. Death lit a cigarette and sat in the wreckage with Love as he waited for her to breathe her final breath. She peered into his eyes: ‘You fool! You do not know what you have done!’ Startled by this, Death jolted in the car seat: ‘Why, what do you mean, little woman? I am Death! I can do what I please!’ Love’s breathing became deeper and deeper and she was struggling that little bit more each time she inhaled: ‘I am Love, arrogant Death! I am the sole being that has kept mankind from it’s now inevitable destruction! Without love in the hearts of man, he will become engulfed by you, foolish Death! Without a mother’s loving touch a boy will grow to harbour a heart of stone! Oh! What have you done? Man will scorch the earth in your name! Man will once again ride into battle without sparing a single thought for his brother! Oh! What have you done? It will not be a meteor collision, a tidal wave, or an earthquake, or even mankind’s ability to harm one another that will bring the end of humanity! No! But the Death of Love.’