'Normally, the sight of a drunken man clad in a tailored outfit walking down the street looking for a fight should be enough to steer anyone away from the general area. However, the thought of anything being 'normal' in this godforsaken town was nothing more than a madman's thought, an illusion to keep away further investigation.'
Is that a good way to start a story? I have no clue. But, who could care at this point, it's not like this story will get any sort of attention... It's too, what's the word? Dramatic? Over the top? Ah, yes: Depressing...
A strange thought occurs to me now, as I write these words down onto paper, the consequence of my moronic actions seem to dawn on me the more I write, but, one can not dwell on the past, what is done is done, and if things get too boring due to the absence of their companionship, I always have that revolver beside my desk to take the easy way out.
Promises are a weird thing, no? Who knew that words could have such an affect on someone, to the point of morally tying them to some sort of obligation or another. To such a point, in fact, that if you were to disobey or break that moral contract, despite being the smallest of promises, they can easily shatter a relationship into millions of tiny, insignificant fragments.
No matter, you can't hurt a dead man's feelings. I have no intention of following through with anything I said to them at this point.
What is done is done, nothing can change that, as much as you or I would like to believe otherwise, it is simply not true.
A quick note to you, a warning as such.
This is not a generic story tale, where everything ends out fine and they all kiss and live happily ever after, it never will be. So if that's what you came for, hurry up and leave.
Alright, now that the generic crowd as left, and only sadists remain to read my tale, I welcome you. And hope that you somewhat enjoy the experiences I've gone through, I'd like some good intention to come from this series of misfortune.
Anyway, I have a story to write, and I best get on with it, or I really will end up making use of that gun instead. Au revoir, reader.
YOU ARE READING
The Drunken Storytellings of a Madman.
ActionHe's been roaming the same town for two hundred years, bound to it. Wandering almost aimlessly, all his goals, aspirations, achievements all fuzzy from his monotonous existence. Every day is the same, day in, day out. His only way of amusement resid...
