Story cover for Skeleton Dance by koreene
Skeleton Dance
  • WpView
    Reads 62
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    Votes 10
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    Parts 4
  • WpHistory
    Time 26m
  • WpView
    Reads 62
  • WpVote
    Votes 10
  • WpPart
    Parts 4
  • WpHistory
    Time 26m
Ongoing, First published Jul 14, 2017
I stared at the old ceiling. My eyes going in and out of focus. The old covers that were covered in dust laid below me. I ran my hand along the sheets. The dust rises before it settled back down.

I must've loved someone once.

That was the one thought that lurked in my skull. How could they say I didn't love anyone? I wasn't that selfish. And it's not like there is anybody to love.

People are disgusting. Especially the ones from where I come from. Horrid creatures. Slimy with greed or cold with the need for love and attention. But they all poke at your sides with all the hurt they ever felt and claw there way through your senses with anger.

In that place, everybody waited for the hero with a sword to slay their monsters then carry them away. Vowing to protect and love them forever. But I learned you don't need someone to protect you, you can protect yourself.

By removing your heart and soul from this planet's people.

If you do that, then no one can hurt you. No one. No one but yourself, and maybe a angry woman with a knife clutched in her hands.
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They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.
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"Kill..." the low whispering voice trailed off into my head. I don't think the strange whispering voice came from anyone in the room. It was too loud; too abnormel; too deadly. Suddenly a cold shiver ran down my back making me scream and cry out for someone, something, anything. I want to be alone, somwhere dark, somewhere safe. My eyes open to see a woman cradling me in her arms. A man with red eyes, tan skin, and blonde hair starred at me. His eyes sunk into my head making me wince. The woman is natuarlly warm and comfortable, but her face is stained with tears mixed with blood on her, once beautiful, face. She smeared some of the blood onto my puffy cheeks with a warm beaten and calloused hand. "You're gonna be okay," she assured me. More tears fell from her eyes. I looked closer into her grayish, I think, eyes. They had evil tucked beneath fear in them. I don't know what she means, yet her words mean the world to me at this very moment: 4 minutes ago, I was born.