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Writing Eine Kleine Tod


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[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][B]Time for another Little Death's thread. And by another, I mean the second one ever. For those who are too lazy to look up the original Little Deaths, it's a chance for you to orchestrate the death of a member of this forum, or possibly yourself. You post 2-10 bulletpoints of what you want the death to include; decapitation, iambic pentameter (NOT HAPPENING), haiku's, Nazi's, a giant robotic clam, etc. And then I do all the hard work and spew out the horror and death.

This is your chance to get back at the guy who wouldn't internet-date you. Go crazy.[/B]

[i][b]To warm things up, I'll start with a suicide. Which for the record counts. The title has Death [Tod], not necessarily murder.[/b]

She should've thought about the consequences before taking the chocolate. Should've just said no. But like the millions of other kids who just couldn't, she'd said yes. And now she was on her knees in front of a window looking down at the 200 foot drop wondering if death by fall was as bad as the movies made it look. Raiha could remember those times that she'd run when she should've stayed and faced the music and strangely, such things mattered more to her now that she was dreaming of her own quiet darkening instead of taking brutal angry revenge. The Raiha of the past would've gotten both hand's bloody and been cut down to die at the feet of her enemy, but that Raiha was dead.

All violence and hatred had been sapped from her. Scorched out with brutality and unspeakable violence. Months in a desperately depressing hotel room with no exit and no way to refuse the people that came to her with a lick and a promise. And now the window was looking better and better. In fact, it was starting to look like a golden shiny window of hope.

It was petty, superficial, but Raiha didn't want to die looking like the burned out beat up piece of human flotsam that she was. A quick shower under water so cold it burned her skin. A brush of blusher across the cheeks. Mascara, pink and purple tones of eyeshadow, and dark lipstick. She combed her hair with her brush instead of her fingers, and plaited it into a half braid so the rest hung down around her shoulders. She unwrapped the damp towel from her waist and out of sheer force of habit, hung it up on the rack in the bathroom not big enough to swing around a coat hanger in.

The weather was beautiful. The rising sun was a sliver of light between the two buildings closely spaced together. The fog was dense, but not so dense it blocked out the orange light. And quite honestly, the temperature was perfect. She could stand up and stretch at the window and then finally rolled up the blinds for the first time since she'd been shoved in here. For a moment she wondered why there were no bars across the windows and then wondered why she hadn't thought about it before. But all that faded into the background as she unhooked the old latch and pushed the window up. A cool breeze swept in, ruffling her hair and raising gooseflesh on her exposed skin.

A brief thought of guilt. Then Raiha leaned forward and tipped herself into nothing.

The breeze was gentle, the cold was numbing and soothing at the same time. Raiha thought about steam rising from the surfaces of the street. The way her fingernails glistened in the still burning streetlights, and that wonderful rushing sense of flight. If it had been a noir film, feathers would've been falling with her body and someone that cared about her would've been screaming hysterically reaching out both arms from the window she'd chosen as her place of exit.

Instead a hardened bitter face looked down onto the streets. Then he slammed the window shut, drew the blinds and yanked on the curtains and then turned back to walk towards the door. He grabbed the frightened girl that had been waiting in the hallway and shoved her into the room, slamming the door behind her. As she flew towards the place she'd just come through she heard the lock click from the outside and sank to the floor, her fingers grasping at the cheap shag carpet, her breath catching in her throat.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]
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[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Sunfall threw back her head and laughed as if she hadn't a care in the world, which to be honest, she hardly did. Any problems she did have would be soon remedied. Her dearest husband was sitting across the table from her, a glass of a rather good merlot in one hand and her left hand in the other. The two were celebrating their sixteenth anniversary and Sunfall had just received word from a confidential source on her husband's repeated indiscretions.

Normally, with him as a high profile, world famous cellist, she would hesitate to act on any suspicions, but they had also just celebrated their son's second birthday. She would have to act quickly in order to ensure that their little Ace wouldn't remember his father and thus spare him any lasting emotional trauma. The last thing she wanted would be for him to turn out to be some kind of sick pervert like her husband apparently was. Oh wait no, was-band. She might as well get in the habit. And when Chief of Police Desbreko showed up, she would have to be careful to refer to him in the present tense. Only the guilty spoke of their loved ones in the past.

She had laid everything out to make a clean killing. Their downstairs laundry room had been covered entirely in plastic sheeting, making it in effect one large plastic bubble. Her machete from their trip to the Philippines had been freshly sharpened and was resting next to her plastic rain coat in the washer room. In fact, everything was perfect. Sunfall was mentally congratulating herself on the way she'd thought everything through and also thanking her husband's addiction to CSI and Dexter for giving her such good ideas. So lost in reverie she was, she almost missed his next comment and had to fall back on the phrase that never fails to smooth over a lapse in conversation.[/i]

"Yes darling, you're absolutely right."

[i]Rach tilted his head to one side and then smiled blandly, moving on. Finally, as the meal was finished, Sunfall stood up, beginning to clear the table. Figs with paper thin slices of ham, rotini with alfredo sauce, grilled chicken, and pine nuts. It was a mild exaggeration to say she had surpassed herself, but Rach believed she had, so she let him compliment her lavishly. As she put away the leftovers to take in to work the next day, Rach came up behind her and put his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Nuzzling the soft spot of her neck he kissed his way up to her earlobe and began nibbling.

Sunfall demurred, knowing that would only frustrate and please him at the same time. She pushed back gently, turning to face him.[/i]

"But dearest, the dishes..."

"The dishes can wait."

[i]He kissed her on the lips this time, and Sunfall acquiesced, thinking about the other lips his had touched and how much younger and prettier they'd been. Not worn out and slightly stretch marked from giving birth to the flesh of his flesh. Stifling the urge to crack his head against the wall, which would've left an ugly concave mark, she instead pulled him against her and backed up against the wall, working their way down the hallway. Her final destination was the laundry room, which was fortunately on the way to the staircase, and as he began working off her frilled blouse, knowing he was not paying attention to anything else in the least, she opened the door behind her back with one hand and pulled him into her kill room. In one quick motion she snatched up the paperweight from his office desk and bashed him against the head with it, knowing the blow wouldn't kill him, only incapacitate him so she could take the proper time to decapitate him.

As he fell to the floor, she began shedding clothing until she was quite naked, setting it outside the plastic covered room so it wouldn't get messy. Locking the door behind her carefully, Sunfall returned to the business at hand, pulling on the yellow raincoat she had laid out earlier in the day. While she wasn't worried about bloodstains on her skin, she was nothing if not habitually neat. Picking up the machete, she turned to her now completely helpless was-band and brought her weapon down in one smooth stroke, as decisively as if she had been simply cutting a watermelon in half. The spray of blood that rose up to meet her was incredibly robust, covering up a goodly portion of her face, hands, and raincoat. With one blow she had almost entirely severed his head from his body and it took only a couple more quick slashes to finish things up.[/i]

"Goodbye dearest. I hope you're just now meeting the Devil himself."

[i]As soon as he had finished draining, she began pulling down her plastic wrappings, and along with her raincoat, bundled everything up into the super strength Hefty bags she had bought especially for this. With cash of course. Putting away the machete in the closet after it's bleach bath, she showered quickly, scrubbing herself with a solution of one part bleach to five part's water and then rinsing again. Lemons followed this, and then she redressed herself and put on her watch. Just as she was putting the garbage bags into the trunk of her SUV, her watch beeped and she quickly opened the garage door and backed out the vehicle.

Ace was waiting at the babysitters, and she didn't want to be late. She would store Rach's body in the dumpsters halfway across the city on the way. [/i][/FONT][/COLOR]
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[font=lucida fax]A parkourist dropping dead from high heights, Gandhi and a tray of gingerbreadmen.


[b]Edit:[/b] (If you combine Shy and Gandhi, you get Shandhi. How cool is that?) And I forgot to add a member name. How silly of me.[/font]
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[SIZE=1]Ace, a new sensation crime/thriller writer for whom the stresses of stardom, pills and genius erase the lines between his reality and the fictional world of his newest piece leading to his death.[/SIZE]

[quote name='Shy'][SIZE=1]Gavin as a man who finds God, only to lose salvation before his death.


[SIZE=1]Ouch, I know I'm evil and all but damn Josh that's a little harsh.
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  • 3 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...
[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Just so we're clear Boo, you want Shy as Ghandi, a tray of gingerbread men, and the parkourist right?

Also queued up are:

*Gavin Dying with a Bitterly Tragic Loss of Faith
*Allamorph Dying in a Thoroughly Interesting Fashion[/FONT][/COLOR]
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