Creative Writing: Death's Toll '

Then some of people noticed a new guest, dress as a clothes of the Red Death. Everyone was freaking out because of him. When Prince Prospero saw this guy, he became angry and asked courtiers to seize him and unmask him. But no one have the courage to do it, including Prospero himself. The Red Death walked through the rooms, heading toward the black room. Prospero chased him with taking his dagger. Prospero reached the edge of the dark room, the Red Death suddenly turned to face him, and Prospero fell on the ground and dead. "Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revelers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

The morning air seeped through the open window as the newly rising sun glowed on the barren rock landscape dome. It wasn’t so barren though, there was small house that laid nestled in the rocks. The house was more like a small shackled shed than an actually house. The house was small and simple, made out of wood equipped with a chicken coop and garden. The house was had one room. In the room was a fireplace, coal burning stove, table for two, and a twin sized bed shoved in the corner. The bed was unmade and a man stood at the stove making his morning breakfast of eggs.

Back in the main level of the factory, Wolf and Fox find Hawk lying on the ground, pale and unresponsive, his bulletproof vest next to him and the edges of a red stain showing around a wad of gauze. A soldier that Fox assumes is N-Unit's medic kneels next to him, along with Snake and Coyote. The three medics are talking frantically among themselves. The rest of N-Unit hovers nervously nearby; the rest of H-Unit is nowhere to be seen. Dust particles dance through the beams of sunlight from the holes where windows used to be, giving the whole scene a strangely dreamy air.

Purgatory: A place where the most malignant/hazardous fiends are jailed due to their assailments on the human race. Their thirst for human blood still lingered within them, even after centuries of being caged in Purgatory. They probed everywhere for a way out of the illimitable, gloomy, foggy forest and rivers; killing themselves and others with hunger and insanity. Once a fiend is in, it’s nearly impossible to get out without a Reaper’s or Knight’s scythe.

I made my way to my aunt’s house. Her home smelled of fresh cut pine, and she offered me a cup of coffee with a cinnamon stick in it. I accepted, and we went to the kitchen table and discussed our week. As she talked, I looked out her kitchen table. A small oak grew in the front yard. Snow capped the birdfeeder beside her bird bath.

The smell of heated metal in this confined room started to clear my sinuses. As the temperature rose higher and higher, I felt my nose hairs slowly start to shrink and dissipate. As the walls crept closer and closer I realized I was being pushed to my death. The walls were closing on in on me and were forcing me to go in the only direction I didn’t want to. As I felt the heat of the walls start to slowly toast my back, I slid off the ground and into the abyss. As I held myself on the side of the pit for dear life, I find myself fixated on the hell laying below me, unable to avert my eyes. I looked around. Nothing. I looked at the sliding walls. Smooth as ice. There were no windows, no doors. I looked at the ceiling, there was no sky. I looked

ZZZZZOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM! A car goes by fleeing from gunners. “WERE GONNA DIE!” said ?!@> (-- removed HTML --) ?!. The gunners pull out a rocket launcher and BOOM! The car explodes into bits and Claptrap wakes up realizing he is still alive. He looks next to him seeing that his team mate has been slaughtered. He gets up and see’s someone in the distance, he ungainly walks to the person to ask for help. As he gets closer he yells “HELP!”, but he walks a bit more it's just a figment of his imagination. It was a cactus that looked that like a person. He soon realized that he was in solitude with no one in sight. So he starts walking and starts thinking about what happened prior to this event…..(flashback).

We are the ones taught not to speak as silence is our code of arms.

Once upon a time a few centuries ago I was a little girl who was energetic and adventurous, but one day all of that changed. I was in the yard playing tag with my sister and two brothers but then we heard “the bell.” The bell meant the sickness, black plague, was in town. When the people began to hear the bell they ran all over the place causing a panic and knocking on doors making sure everyone knew what was happening.

At a street corner miles off the Manhattan bay sat a man. The December winds and darkness accompanied him. He whistled with the tune of the passing trains and traveled throughout the day from one part of the street to another with the passing sun. The lethargic bones in his body and his hunched gait reminded one of an old tire swing, pivoting with every gust of wind. He walked on the street with an empty coffee cup, sifting the little change inside it. As the day went on, masses of people passed by the man with indifference. What is one brick relative to a whole wall? His shoulders looked burdened with grief, but could easily be mistaken for a drunken posture. Drunk on grief, though he would think with a humorless smile. As his routine continued,

The graveyard was no more than a series of wooden crosses of random sizes stuck in the grassy loam. Mostly they were painted white and bore a scribbled name, perhaps a date. When the marker rotted the grave was re-used, by then the mourners had moved on with their lives and the body was thoroughly decomposed. There was no fence around it, no signage to give it a beautiful name, or any name at all. Even the locals just called it "the place on the hill." Often the wind blew across it harshly and it was utterly exposed to the storms that frequented the area. The living here could ill afford sentimentality for the dead and so though their grief was as keen as the folks in the big city, they buried themselves in the gritty business of staying alive

AMONG THE PRISON Triplets; Alex, Boyd, and Cole, had made a plan to head in to the horrible, gruesome, shaded, bloody, and gory street otherwise as a maximum security prison for the supernatural. It was obviously nicknamed prison. No one knew the name of the place, for it was, centuries ago, it was sealed with a substance known as mountain ash. The plan was to get in, find an item, and bring it to class the next day. The three never knew what they’ve got themselves into...

My crew has slowly gotten smaller and smaller in the past two months. Only twenty of us remain and more of us are getting sick every day. However, we are at our last stop in Barcelona and then I’m returning home to you soon. Our captain has told us we need to stay here until we unload the rest of the cargo which take exceptionally longer when half your men are dead or sick. I'm worried that I am not entirely well and have an agonising headache. I’ve gotten my blood letted so that I am safe from the disease. Francis believes that the epidemic that spread through our crew is a punishment from god for locking our sick in the cellar. Maybe he is right maybe what we did is punishable by death. One more day here and then I'll finally be home.

I stopped at my parents and pick up my thirteen year old daughter, Melissa. We had been living there for almost a week. It had felt strange to wake up in my childhood bedroom after 19 years of living elsewhere. Melissa is my youngest child and the only one of my three children still living at home, and we were both almost giddy with excitement. As we drove in, we could see the house set on our well-manicured two and ½ acres lot. The old growth trees lined the driveway which circle around another group of trees and lilac bushes, it was like driving into a park. The number of trees and the privacy of the lot is