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By the hands of the Gods, you have been plucked from your time and from your world, dropped into the box. Only the box is a world of its own.

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Open Paradise Lost

Discussion in 'Blackhaven' started by The Creature, Dec 25, 2017.

  1. The Creature

    The Creature Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

    Posts:
    23
    Gender:
    Male
    Race:
    Golem
    Age:
    Indeterminate
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Neutral
    December 6th

    The Creature scrambled on the ground, unsure of where he was, so much like the day of his birth, he crawled through the alleyway, his coat and crude fur clothing still dusted with the Polar snow. His Father's body was not there, what had happened, had he died? Was this the afterlife and he was being punished? He had earned it but something must have brought him there. Perhaps one of the crew had snuck up on him and killed him. He felt the back of hi head, no damage or wound so...what had caused it? He walked out into the street, covering himself with his coat and climbing up the wall of a building. He crawled onto the roof and started to run, leaping to the next building and sending small bits of stone down onto the streets when his landing broke off weak brickwork. His breathing picked up as the lights began blinding him, neon pink colors flashing below him in the shape of a women in a provocative pose, the leg of which alternated between flicking on and off with another leg lifted into the air, giving the illusion of movement. What was this place, it was not the poles and it was not Geneva. He looked down at the street and knelled down watching the people in the streets. More people like him, some more disturbing than he could ever be with all his scars.

    This wasn't possible he couldn't be in Hell because there was no torture or anything that the books he'd read described. Just a normal winter day above him and normal....well seemingly normal people below him. He dropped down and moved into the crowd, at most people stood aside to let him pass, trying to avoid contact with him. He kept looking around entranced by everything, finally he stopped at a corner and sunk down to sit against the wall, curling in on himself as his body shook with silent sobs. He was being tortured for sure, in a world he was no longer hated, just ignored. He hated this more than being feared, at least with fear he was acknowledged. No matter how miserable an existence that was.
     
    Chloe Decker likes this.