Never Want Me In Your Lives
07-16-2013, 12:30 PM
A scar was laid out across the pups eye and ripped at his mouth. Well it was still fresh, red and oozing a bit of liquid and puss. It was too late to help the poor boy, physically and mentally. His revenge was set upon the ones who meant harm to anyone. And in his mind, everyone was a harm. Everyone had to suffer because all who were born were a danger to the society, to the world.
Suffer for the loss of his own.. Of someone who wanted to care for him.. Of someone who was lost protecting his own being.. Why was he so important? What was it that made the girl take her own life to save his? He was pelted with anger, he suffered because of her loss, and that was what he deserved. He would not stop 'till the fall of species of wolves came at hand. Until he was the last wolf to roam the lands, but why stop there? Wolves weren't the only beings that meant suffering to the earth. So why not kill them too?
Of course he was only young, but he was way too mature to act his age. His mind was set, he was going to kill every last organism that walked, talked, breathed. Everyone would know his name, he would become a legend. He would be one of those stories that children heard before bedtime, a myth perhaps. But they would all be wrong when his claws slit their throats for telling their children that such a story was a lie.
His left eye had finally faded grey, his right still embracing its pale yellow shine. The markings all over his fur had not been symmetrical, not one bit. It was very exotic, normally wolves with different color scenes were, for the most part, symmetrical. His black beady nose hit the air as he could smell the blood and death of the battlefield. And his paws made their way out the the stone and blood stained ground. And he was now able to be spotted from afar, to anyone who dare walk to the deadly male.
Suffer for the loss of his own.. Of someone who wanted to care for him.. Of someone who was lost protecting his own being.. Why was he so important? What was it that made the girl take her own life to save his? He was pelted with anger, he suffered because of her loss, and that was what he deserved. He would not stop 'till the fall of species of wolves came at hand. Until he was the last wolf to roam the lands, but why stop there? Wolves weren't the only beings that meant suffering to the earth. So why not kill them too?
Of course he was only young, but he was way too mature to act his age. His mind was set, he was going to kill every last organism that walked, talked, breathed. Everyone would know his name, he would become a legend. He would be one of those stories that children heard before bedtime, a myth perhaps. But they would all be wrong when his claws slit their throats for telling their children that such a story was a lie.
His left eye had finally faded grey, his right still embracing its pale yellow shine. The markings all over his fur had not been symmetrical, not one bit. It was very exotic, normally wolves with different color scenes were, for the most part, symmetrical. His black beady nose hit the air as he could smell the blood and death of the battlefield. And his paws made their way out the the stone and blood stained ground. And he was now able to be spotted from afar, to anyone who dare walk to the deadly male.