The Nightmare

Part of a Nightmare, for the story I'm writing...Enjoy.

He stumbles backwards, reaching into his coat, withdrawing a throwing knide and throwing it at Angel. Kayan quickly jumps into the way, the knife jamming into his heart. His eyes flashwhite, then pale blue as he hits the ground. Blood from his chest leaked out onto the tile. Angel watching in horror, feeling his rage build again...His entire clan, dead, a wind grows in the room, causing his trench to drift slowly, his hair gently moving about. A thing glowing silver line grows down the center of each eye, slowly spreading outwards, until his eyes are completely silver, his pupils black as night, the filling turns red. showng the rage built up inside...the wind in the room picks up as Angel looks over his target, Legna. The wind suddenly stops as Angel begins to charge, his disappears, suddenly re-appearing in front of him, ramming his sword through Legna's chest and out the other side, blood spraying on the wall. Everythng grows silent as Legna pulls himself off the sword, smiling. "I knew you had it in you brother, now if you'll excuse me...I have business to attend too" Angel freezes, unable to move as legna walks past him. When he gets next to him, Legna takes his sword and clubs Angel in the back of the head with it. Slowly, he falls to the ground, blacking out. The last thing he remembers is Legna laughing, and the smell of fire.

The "silent film" effect

Its tough to get through nights like these. Its nights such as this one in particular where I stand here and contemplate everything around me. I could never understand why, but I guess it's nights like these where it brings out the best in me...perhaps.

I am standing behind the desk at my work. No, I am no slacker - if anything the night is slacking on me. This happens around every holiday season, check ins slow down and when I mean slow down, I mean stop. Not that I am complaining at all...besides the fact that sometimes it can be a little drab, the front desk is all around a good time when I make it one.

I am the youngest to work behind the front desk. It has its perks, ups and downs to say the least, but then again what job doesn't? I am always the one to get told I am wrong. I think It's the age thing, but I always get caught with the guests that check in that tell me I am wrong for doing something that I know how to do for my job. Funny how they turn around and apologize when they realize that my age has nothing to do with my knowledge of my own job. I mean, heaven forbid if the 2 months of training I put into my job so I can run the joint meant nothing and just went in one ear and out the other, then we'd all be in trouble. I am always the one to get hit on by the older foreign gentlemen, asking me to go out and get a drink. I mean, buddy c'mon...drinking might be legal in your country but I'm a couple years short over here champ. That's okay, I don't want to have a drink with a wealthy business man anyway (I heard the conversation is all numbers anyway.)

It's so quiet...I have worked here long enough to completely void out the sound of the classical music that flows through the speakers here at the Estate. I've come to realize from working here...I despise classical with every bone, muscle, hair and germ on my body. Sad I know...I never got anything out of it.

Is it wrong to say that majority of my life now feels like I'm in a silent film. Work was only the start of it, but now...has it branched off to more than work? Has it been affecting my everyday life? I'm starting to think so...Everything has become black and white for me, and quiet...so quiet.

I'm tied to the tracks waiting for my saver...how long is it going to be until the train hits?