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Deep Beneath the Stone
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Stories of Old
June 2004
The Mountain's Secret
My Profile
Name: Marie
aka: CityKat
aka: Bubbles
Age: 18 - eek! I'm old...
Birthday: December 13
Zodiac: Sagittarius
Location: The box that is campus.
Loves: RH;MIT, music, friends, the outdoors, all of my hometowns, critters, WAGGGS
Fellow Tin Soldiers
Blog Links
Chicken Soup For The Souless -What goes on in Jesse's brain, nobody knows...
In ThE Tub WiTh SquIsHy -Christina's log, so just keep swimming!.
Lean On Me -Regan's digital and cryonable shoulder.
Manitoulin Wannabe -The heart of the island's where her heart lies.
One Ring... -Ali's blog. Her straight forward is kinda crooked.
Random Thoughts -It’s Jeff! And the voices!.
Searching in the Darkness -Lex's blog, we'll force him to see dawn one of these days.
Somewhere Over the Rainbow -It’s Kuriosity!
Super Spidey -A cookie and a kiss.
The World of Cr0magnus -Tech Reincarnated
Undead and Confused -My favourite Cool Kid!
Moutains and Valleys
Fun Links
Chris's Site -Games, Pics, Jokes... He's got it. And BESS can't get him.
F-Concept! Oi!Oi!Oi! -Leader's only!... okay, and Josh and Bubble!
havesomehats -All I'm saying is; elephants, checkered people, and top hats.
Sinfest -Funny as Hell. Thanks to Lex for getting me hooked.
Too Far North (Awesome)!! -The best band there ever was! (Okay, that might be stetching it, but hey we love you guys!) It consists of a lack of independant brain power and a collective love for music!
Blog Shares -Who's winning today?
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Pain. Never ending pain. Her chest lies torn open, she looks upon her own blood, her own heart as it beats before her eyes. She should die, but she lives on in agony. For hours she lives on, feeling ever beat of her heart with searing pain, every movement with agonizing defeat. She lives on.
She lives on in opposition to her normally cheery self. She still wears her smile, she still feels joy, they're is no hatred. Which confused her as she strangles the life out of the first child she sees. Her hands stay wrapped around the infants neck as she searches for the casue of the violence. She cannot find it, she is happy, she is not mad nor angry. All is normal. It is as if someone else comands her hands, but she can hear herself give the death sentences, but she knows not why. She throws the infant aside, looks around. She remembers there being sun, and laughter. She sees only darkness, the damp air weighs down on her.
She skips away, as happy as ever, yet a battle rages inside her to find the source of the commands. The source of the death. An old lady she once knew is walking down the alley. Taking her puppy for one last stroll. The puppy - barely able to walk it's so young, looks up at the girl, eyes shining with love and compassion. Blood sprays as her foot lands in the puppy's gut, it's newly formed coat stained red as it's skin is ripped in peices by the force. She continues to smile. She skips away as merry as ever, battle still raging. The night continues like this. Each time she skips the pain of her wound returns. With each death caused by her young hands it worsens.
Too yound to know pain. Too old to have never met it. She kills that night. How many? No one knows, enough. Enough to deserve her pain, and more. She kills for no reason. Her life never ending, her blood ever pouring from the wound. The pain, the sorrow, the death - not enough to end her life. When she has killed them all she begs. She begs that she is repaid with her own death. She begs that death share it's glory with her. Begs that it end her life.
She begs that all those her asked mercy of her are repaid with her death. That those who had their hearts ripped out beating were given the peace of mind that no one else would suffer. That those who she raped, or beat, or skinned, or savaged would be able to laugh at her death. She hears and answer, that death will be given. A flame errupts in a near building offering a chance to die. She walks towards it.
As her hair catches fire, her skin melts from her body. The pain is sweet, it is a release, but it hurts. The physical pain is forgotten as she is thrown in a world of thoughts, remembering each and every one of the nights murders. Yes, she was a murdress. She had killed those people. She laughs. A loud a cynical laugh. It rings in the ears of those who were left to die. It hurts even those who are dead. She laughs.
She wakes. Looks around, she's home. Her teddy bears are lined up beside her, her storybooks on their shelf. She was a murdress. She was a child. A child of seven who grew up too fast.
*hugs*
last modified Jun 7, 2004, 9:03 p
Add a comment
*squirms uncomfortably* Regan!! shes scaring me!!!! 
109434 |
lilcowgurl1013 - June 9, 2004, 8:38 a
i guess we can both now wonder where each other's literary violence comes from...but that was really well written. well done
109283 |
arwenevenstar - June 8, 2004, 6:11 a
*hugs*
Marie...
*hugs*
and Danny, your bro's cool...
*hugs*
109239 |
Iamweasel - June 7, 2004, 10:29 p
Hey sleep... wouldn't that be nice. LOL
I read the great chat you had with my little brother that was entertaining and a tad embarassing.
But that post Marie... that was... wow... that is amazingly written you have a real talent for writing.
109238 |
Cr0mag - June 7, 2004, 10:27 p
Ouch... Okay ignore the typos... I mean look at the time! I should be asleep!
109236 |
CityKat - June 7, 2004, 10:12 p
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