Post by Black Death on Oct 31, 2011 23:44:25 GMT 1
Glowing brightly in a scattered stratus, was the maiden herself, dressed in a fall’s harvest gown. Her light shown down into the gloomy city, the night only came once a year yet its impression seemed to stay embedded in the personality of the city. It was the night of Halloween, a night of mischief and fun for many but for others if came with the call of much more intensity.
It was just so that the masked crooks played the night with creepers and monsters, yet something else loomed amounts them. A perfect setting for a ghoul of dark passion who screeched cries of revenge. Tonight was the perfect night for murder and his pale green eyes were set on several groups of people. Dusk has come and gone and the festival at Gotham square was still in full bloom. Costumed people of all kinds flourished here for a night of horror and thrill. Yet they had no idea just how scary the night would become.
Only a shadow in darkness, he waited as he watched from the side of a building, standing with one foot up on a stoop. He was only a few blocks from the square. Smoke billowed from the coarse dark matter around his face. Giggles and shouts of excited children bombarded his ears. Hoards of them raced from house to house collecting as much as their greedy little hands could fit into their buckets and bags. Terry hated children, he hated their loudness and immature ways, he hated their grubby little smiles and needy little whines. They were an irritation to him, a curse on the earth. But his dark heart did not hold vengeance against them.
It was part, the innocents of a certain child that he was here. His son had paid the price, a mistake and an act of righting the wrong lead to his untimely death. Terry was after the gang that once called his son brother and then struck him down at the act of his defiance. His eyes pierced through the dark layout and he tuned to the faint voices in the lot. Dropping the cigarette, Black Death rose up and surveyed the way. Sweeping across the road he moved silently and swiftly as not to be seen by any impressionable persons. Floating in plain sight but covered by the night he watched them.
“Ha ha! Look at all this candy!” One said laughing and burying his arms deep into the bag of sweets that the group of men had stolen from helpless masked children through the night. The men chucked at their petty crime, feasting in their spoils and plotting their next move, attacking the festival. They were waiting here for the rest of the gang to arrive and they did within a few minutes. Soon over forty of them showed up and began to prepare for their crime upon the helpless venders, party goers and families in the Square.
It was said there was a great prize to be won, not that any contest needed to be joined. There was a fundraiser for Gotham’s Children Hospital and a giant pumpkin was being filled with money. It was risky business knocking off such a score like that and a harsh act, who knew who else would show up to get their hands on the pumpkin. As the gang took up their weapons, masks and bright neon color costumes, the Black Death watched silent and motionless, soon to follow them to the festival and their appending doom.
It was just so that the masked crooks played the night with creepers and monsters, yet something else loomed amounts them. A perfect setting for a ghoul of dark passion who screeched cries of revenge. Tonight was the perfect night for murder and his pale green eyes were set on several groups of people. Dusk has come and gone and the festival at Gotham square was still in full bloom. Costumed people of all kinds flourished here for a night of horror and thrill. Yet they had no idea just how scary the night would become.
Only a shadow in darkness, he waited as he watched from the side of a building, standing with one foot up on a stoop. He was only a few blocks from the square. Smoke billowed from the coarse dark matter around his face. Giggles and shouts of excited children bombarded his ears. Hoards of them raced from house to house collecting as much as their greedy little hands could fit into their buckets and bags. Terry hated children, he hated their loudness and immature ways, he hated their grubby little smiles and needy little whines. They were an irritation to him, a curse on the earth. But his dark heart did not hold vengeance against them.
It was part, the innocents of a certain child that he was here. His son had paid the price, a mistake and an act of righting the wrong lead to his untimely death. Terry was after the gang that once called his son brother and then struck him down at the act of his defiance. His eyes pierced through the dark layout and he tuned to the faint voices in the lot. Dropping the cigarette, Black Death rose up and surveyed the way. Sweeping across the road he moved silently and swiftly as not to be seen by any impressionable persons. Floating in plain sight but covered by the night he watched them.
“Ha ha! Look at all this candy!” One said laughing and burying his arms deep into the bag of sweets that the group of men had stolen from helpless masked children through the night. The men chucked at their petty crime, feasting in their spoils and plotting their next move, attacking the festival. They were waiting here for the rest of the gang to arrive and they did within a few minutes. Soon over forty of them showed up and began to prepare for their crime upon the helpless venders, party goers and families in the Square.
It was said there was a great prize to be won, not that any contest needed to be joined. There was a fundraiser for Gotham’s Children Hospital and a giant pumpkin was being filled with money. It was risky business knocking off such a score like that and a harsh act, who knew who else would show up to get their hands on the pumpkin. As the gang took up their weapons, masks and bright neon color costumes, the Black Death watched silent and motionless, soon to follow them to the festival and their appending doom.
