WIPThe Order itself doubted his very loyalty, for some obscure reason unknown to him. Many a time, he assured them that he was to be trusted, despite his lack of interest in anything but the sole item he carried in his deep coat pockets, an item that gleams and shines with a hard black granite shell and sliced cleanly through his targets with ease, an item that held little weight and spun smoothly from the tip of his finger, an item he trusted more than the mirrors he so expertly traversed.
He didn't keep many personal objects, and he didn't make friends. At times, he seemed dull to others simply because it was painful to go fifty seconds without his beautiful yoyo, and at every given opportunity, provided he wasn't engaged in worthwhile activity, he was playing with this "toy", spinning it expertly through the air. He didn't care what they thought though. They had no appreciation for art, in its true, raw form, the art of sculpting shapes in the air, shapes so fleeting and brief they can
My Monstrous WelcomeI once had a pet beast, with big, red eyes and thick, oily fur all over its body. It rather enjoyed eating roadkill off the roads nearby, so every day before school I would let it out of the house, and it always came back and stood by the door, waiting for my affection.
One day, I came home, and there was a huge splintered hole in the door. I touched the knob, but I withdrew my hand when it singed me. I crawled in through the hole itself, careful not to scrape my knees, and saw the torn apart hallway. Vicious talon marks covered everything. The wall paper was peeling away. Paintings were ripped apart and my flowers lay on the floor, vase broken and flowers smoldering.
I stood up and followed the trail of destruction to the spare room in the back of the top floor of my tall house. The shades were ripped up and thrown all over the floor. Lamps were knocked down. My Tiffany furniture was broken, clawed, and snapped.
And sitting in the center of this, seething with a hideous, demonic rage,