Annie

Here's my stab..not the greatest, but I am in a rush and wanted to give it a shot.

[color=darkgreen]Eh, here's my attempt. It's really basic, I guess to keep the "old school" feel. See the attachments.[/color]

[QUOTE=Silpheed][COLOR=Blue][SIZE=1] Okay, okay. Jokes finally aside. I'll have to say, If the bullet wouldn't kill me then I could see myself taking it for anyone but if it were sure to kill me I'd take it for my immediate family, and ONE other person. [b]That other person is...Annie. [/b]You know her, you love her and you know you'd take a bullet for her, too. [/SIZE] [/COLOR][/QUOTE] [color=darkgreen]Joe, I love you so much. Aside from my immediate family, there would be few people I'd take a bullet for. I would take a bullet for the former member Charlie Levoy. She means alot ot me, and she's been through more than what I can try and angst over. I would also take a bullet for Mimminx. She's incredible and too kind to me, and it kills me just to see her having a bad day. So I'd probably just yell "Shoot me!" and flail my arms about if someone held a gun up to her. Even if it weren't a death situation. I'd take the shot before I'd let anyone hurt her. (Unfortunately, she lives across the globe, so I couldn't do that T_T ) Last, but [b]not[/b] least, Silpheed (Joe). I cannot tell you how much he means to me. He's given me so much, and I cherish him to tears. I would happily take a bullet for him. If it were "You die, Joe lives", I'd do it. However, there's a problem with me and him posting to something like this: "Okay suckers, *bad guy points gun at Joe*" Me: "Me! Kill me!" Joe: "Absolutely not!" Me: "What? You're not going to die." *points to herself and beckons the bad guy's aim* Joe: "I don't even think so." *grabs the guy's wrist* Yeah, he and I can't ever blame each other for anything; more less, we won't let each other win. ^_^ But all that aside, Joe would be the one I die for.[/color]

[color=darkgreen][b]Solo[/b]- Your avatar hasn't changed since I can remember. But I can only say one thing that comes to mind about your av/ ban: Rawr.[/color]

[color=darkgreen]Yes. I've attempted to manipulate a drawing of mine. It's..different coming from me. I guess it's just the victim to my emotional stability at the moment, lol. Let me know what you think.[/color]

[b]9:05 PM[/b] Sweat beaded and rolled down the side of her neck. The trickle of cold liquid sent goosebumps up her spine, and reminded her that she was not having a nightmare. Unfortunately, she was living her nightmare. Unlike the teenagers in ?Nightmare on Elm Street?, Kayla?s living horror wouldn?t simply go away with the phrase: ?I don?t believe in you.? or ?I?m not afraid of you.? No, this was no movie. The people are real. And she was afraid of Roger. The fumes of gasoline and exhaust plagued Kayla?s nostrils. Her thoughts drifted as a headache, obviously due to the unhealthy amount of carbon dioxide, pounded at her temples. It began as a dull beat, much like the soft beat of a bass drum. Then, the pounding gradually peaked to the pitch of a snare. Roger?s lead foot, and crazed driving, was relentless. Sending Kayla?s throbbing head into a spiral of pain. But just as fast as Roger had taken off, he swerved the cab to the left and slammed the breaks. Kayla, along with her headache, tumbled into the backside of the rear passenger seat. The car bounced and rocked violently; significance of the taxi driver?s growing anger. Kayla expected the worst, and solemnly began to accept that. She prepared herself with thoughts of what horrible things would be coming to her in a matter of minutes. A dull Swiss Army knife jabbing and digging into her abdomen; grinding and twirling her internal organs? A rusty razor carving into her pretty face? Or, perhaps an aluminum baseball bat to every bone in her body. It would be a slow, and very painful process; especially when you reach the shoulder blade. It?s the strongest bone in the body, and very hard to break. Kayla winced at these, and many other petrifying, thoughts while she waited for her dim fate. She expected the trunk to fling open at any second. She expected Roger?s brick of a hand to reach in and slug her in the nose. She expected, but nothing came. [b]9:12 PM[/b] Impatience began to sink in, even though it had only been a few minutes. Kayla, knowing she will be injured, if not killed, grew tired of waiting. If Roger was going to do anything to her, then what was he waiting for? He?s not in the car, there was no dull shuffling sounds; what was he waiting for? ?Roger, you sick fuck! What are you doing?! What are you waiting for?!? Kayla belted at the top of her lungs. She settled down when her headache shook with every syllable. There was no answer, nor a sound of movement. Furious at her assailant, the red-head started to kick at the top of the trunk. However, she quickly became exhausted and dizzy from the lack of sufficient oxygen. A wave of nausea swept over her moistened body. Her sweat seeped into whatever dry bits of clothing she had left. After gaining a minute rest, Kayla prepared to call out again. But the sound of voices filtered into the trunk. She couldn?t be too sure, but she thought she heard another person. Male or female, Kayla?s conscious clouded and fuzzed, adjusting to the flow of adrenaline and gradual oxygen intake. The voices slowly became louder, and seemingly closing in on the cab. There was in fact another voice, and it was definitely female. The female?s voice was strong and robust, but not manly. There was a sort of accent, a twang. Kayla thought it may be Southern. Roger?s mumbling became clear and crisp. The back of the car dipped and did not bounce up; Roger was sitting on the trunk. ?Do you know if he?s still around these parts?? Roger asked the second party. ?I?d imagine so. I don?t see no reason why he wouldn? be,? the woman replied unsure, ?Why?s you wanta know?? ?I just got a special delivery for ?im, is all. I was supposed to drop it off a while back, but I got caught up in court,? a repulsive grunt and snort was painfully audible. ?What?d ya do this time, Rog? An? didn?t I tell ya?s once before to stop doin? that shit in fronta me? I hate that fuckin? snot snortin?!? the woman sounded just as disgusted as Kayla was. ?Sorry, Momma,? Roger mumbled, ?Anyways, I just had a speeding ticket. I promise, Momma!? ?Mhm,? his mother sighed, unconvinced of her son?s story. Although, Kayla wouldn?t doubt that he had ever received one. ?Anyhow, I?d best be off to deliver this package to Mark,? the car bounced back into its original position, ?Thanks for letting me have the scissors. I?ll buy you a new pair next payday.? [I]Scissors? What the hell does he need scissors for?[/I] Kayla asked herself. But the confusion dissipated quickly into fear. [I]He?s going to use them to cut my skin into pieces and use them as a new skin! I knew I should have never watched that movie..[/I] Kayla grumbled. She promised herself, if she got out alive, no more cannibalistic/horror movies ever again. The car started once more, this time, no take off start. Instead, it was a smooth, long ride to wherever ?Mark? was.

[color=darkgreen]Oh, Jeh-sempai. I understand you've been extremely busy, but do you know an estimated day to start [b]Wonka Inc.[/b]? I don't mean to bother you, but I'm just bouncy to start.[/color]

[QUOTE=Kairi][CENTER][COLOR=DarkSlateGray][SIZE=1] [B]Annie[/B]-don't know you at all...but from what I've heard from theres...simply The Boss :) alongside James of course...one in the same. [/SIZE][/COLOR][/CENTER][/QUOTE] [color=darkgreen]I don't really know what you meant by this. But I will say I don't think my avi/sig/username suggest[s] "boss" ^_^;; Like ^.^ said, I change my avatars frequently; and they usually reflect on my emotions. Any other takers? [b]Mimminx[/b]- Your banner....*giggles* Your banner is just full of good, clean humor [in a very innocent way...>_>] (and yes, I do remember that). Your avatar...mmmmm..I loves cherries. And it the way they dangle, it's just torture T_T Shows me who's boss of me, lol. So, in other words, you are the master of an innocent sexiness (rawr ;3F) [/color]

[color=darkgreen]Can I say depressing? How I see it, I think of someone who is in a downward spiral in an emotional whirlpool. [/color] [quote=Retribution][size=1][i]Pull up... Pull up...[/i] The frantic radio screams to me. I can't do it, I'm not strong enough. [/size][/quote] [color=darkgreen]The italic words seem to be the words of people around the person (friends, family). That's what "radio" is. The person doubting themself gave me the impression of an emotional downfall, right off the bat. He feel that he is too deep, and there's no way he can do it on his own.[/color] [quote=Retribution][size=1][i]Slow down... Slow down...[/i] The static line scrambles, cracks in its frantic yelps. [i]Do you copy?[/i][/size][/quote] [color=darkgreen]He is ignoring their (family, friends) plees. "Scrambles", "frantic yelps", words of frenzy and fear for him. Desperation in the phrase "Do you copy?".[/color] [quote=Retribution][size=1]... And the silence hung. They knew it. [/size][/quote] [color=darkgreen]Foreshadowing. Hoplessness. A sense of knowing they couldn't help, didn't help, should have helped/should have done better to help. There is nothing they can do.[/color] [quote=Retribution][size=1]The devistating crash to the bottom I forsaw [/size][/quote] [color=darkgreen]Suicide. Dark, depressing, and insightful. That is what I saw when I read this. Beautifully worded, and thought out. Of course, I could be wrong in my review/critique.[/color]

[color=darkgreen]I'll take a shot at this. [b]James[/b]- Always stylish and clean. Your avatars rock my panti--I mean, socks. They also symbolize traits of your personality and attitude (as I see it). They also seem to come and go as the seasons of weather; each one reflecting on what you are feeling, thinking, or obsessing over. Signature-wise, simplistic and cool. Your avatars usually attract the attention (aside from what you have to say in a post), and there's really no need for a banner. Although, I really enjoyed the animated banners. [b]Corey[/b]- Every one of your banner/avatar sets I've seen are usually abstract or landscape. They've really meshed well with your writing style, and mood. Especially the set you have now. I'll admit, looking at your current set catches me off-guard, but it's very bold. It shows me that you have something to say, and are not afraid of saying it. [b]Syk3[/b]- As long as I've known you, that avatar still has style, hotness, and class; just like you. It gives off a care-free, happy-go-lucky vibe. And I've told you before, for some reason, you remind me of Spike. And your signature, shameless and full of HORNY ^_~ [b]Aiyisha[/b]- Sexy. Whether it's of boob shots, or stocking-covered legs, your banners/avatars show off your sexiness..and mysterious-ness. [b]Charles[/b]-............one word: insane. I'm sure I'll have more to say about other people, but they were the first people to come to mind.[/color]

[color=darkgreen]My favorite anime? That's a hard one to choose. Well, since I can't really decide, I'll just give you my "at the moment" favorite. [b]Samurai Champloo[/b] would have to take the #1 spot of anime. I love the overall style of the animation. It's like Cowboy Bebop (which is another favorite); fantastic style, gorgeous animation, brilliant storyline, and [spoiler]orgasmic[/spoiler] characters. The soundtrack to Samurai Champloo is a sleek and upbeat hip-hop; very catchy, and something I wasn't expecting to like. The characters all blend/mix/mesh well together, and create a delightful atmosphere. I suggest Samurai Champloo to everyone. It's worth it.[/color]

[color=darkgreen]Where have I been? Doing dishes. I was, but that's not the subject of discussion. I have been all around the US. I was born in California, and lived there for about six years of my life. I then moved to Oklahoma, where I lived for most of my life. In Oklahoma, my dad used to drive for semi trucks. He travled all over the States. One time, when I was in third grade, my family (mom and 2 bros) got to go on a 3 week trip with him. We went through Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Washington down through Cali, Arizona, and New Mexico. That was a fun trip. Moved to New York about three years ago. From here, I've been to Texas for Air Force training. I also went to Mississippi; which was a blast. I wish I were old enough to drink, it would have been funner. And in a couple of weeks, I get to go back to Texas for 3 weeks! Yay...-_-[/color]

[i]Where am I? What the hell happened? I didn't hit my head that hard, or did I? I'm laying in a puddle, that's all I know. And that man, disgusting Roger. What was he thinking driving like that?![/i] "Who the hell do you think you are?! Don't touch me!" Kayla scampered away from his hand. She stumbled to stand up straight, leaning on the trunk of the taxi cab for support. "Easy, Miss. You were knocked-out for a minute," Roger stood and threw up his hands in defense. "That doesn't give you the right to touch me!" Kayla wiped her lip. The red stain spread into a large circle. The rain came down heavier now, soaking Kayla to the bone. "Are you sure you're okay?" Roger approached, too quick for Kayla to react. His bulging gut pressed against her body, pinning her to the back of the car. Kayla, taken back, slapped at the taxi driver in hopes to surprise him enough to move. Unfortunately, her attack only angered the driver. His hands grasped her wrists tightly, causing Kayla to yelp and slump over. "Now, I'm going to ask you nicely. If you cooperate, I'll be easy with you," Roger's rancid breath, strong of cigarettes and liquor, floated under Kayla's nose. "W-what happens if I don't like what you're going to ask me," she coughed and gagged. Roger paused, looking from his left around to his right. His black eyes glazed over, sending out a bone-chilling vibe. He leaned over to whisper in Kayla's ear. "If you don't cooperate, you'll be greeting my wife," he growled and bit at her ear. Kayla grunted and tried to pull away, but Roger's strength overpowered hers. His teeth clamped harder on her soft ear and his hand started to make its way underneath Kayla's sweater. The wet material proved to be a slight struggle for him. Kayla closed her eyes as tight as hard as she could force them. Steaming tears of fear and anger squeezed out and ran down her cold face. She couldn't help herself; Roger was too strong for her. "Your skin is so soft. Tell me your name," Roger tried to coo, his unshaven face scratched against Kayla's neck. "N-no!" she choked down a heavy sob and sent a knee into Roger's groin. He leant over her, struggling to regain his composure. Her body began to shake uncontrollably. Roger slowly straightened up, glaring fiercely at her. "Tell me, bitch!" he roared, reeling a heavy hand into Kayla's cheek. The force of his slap sent Kayla to the ground. There she coughed and tried to crawl away. Her attempt failed as Roger bent down to pick her up around the waist. "I told you to cooperate with me, Sugar," estranged and pleased with Kayla's struggling, Roger lifted her over his shoulder and opened the trunk. Kayla groaned, her breathing restricted from Roger's shoulder digging into her diaphragm. With one swift movement, Roger hefted Kayla into the empty trunk. "You're goin' to pay for that," he pointed down at the trembling body. And with a mischievious laugh, Roger slammed the trunk shut; leaving Kayla locked inside and in the dark. All was silent for a couple of minutes, all except for Kayla's staggering breath. The trunk reaked of gasoline and oil. There was no carpeting, only a large piece of fitted plywood. Kayla fanned her hands around, hoping to find something to use as a weapon, or as an aid in escape. There was nothing. Not one tool, bottle, or even a sheet of paper. Kayla was alone inside that trunk. [b]8:50 PM[/b] The car still hadn't started. Kayla gave up on looking for [i]anything[/i]. Instead, she lay in the fetal position and sobbed for a good part of the ten minutes she had been in the trunk. Her throat dried up, ceasing her sobbing short. Had Roger left her there? She didn't hear any footsteps or rustling around in the car. In fact, she didn't even hear a door open. That may be because she was too caught up in her racing thoughts. [i]My cell phone! I can call help![/i] Kayla reached for her hip pocket, only to remember that she didn't pay the bill last month and Sprint had shut it off. Dismal and helpless, Kayla punched the plywood. She wanted to cry. She wanted to just lay there and cry. That's what she wanted; but she knew she couldn't do that. She had to calm down and pay attention to every little noise around her. [i]Okay, take a deep breath, Kayla[/i] she chanted to herself. She went over details in her head. Where she could possibly be, what time it was, if Maggie had attempted to contact her, and if she'd ever see her best friend again. Branching from these thoughts, the usual happens; regretting things that had been done, thinking of how things could have/should have been, and praying to God for help. Praying for Him to forgive her for all that she had done wrong, praying that if she weren't to make it out alive, to protect her family and friends; if she were to make it out alive, to help her on the path of a better outlook on life. If she were to make it through this situation with her life, she vowed to God that she would straighten her life out. She would call her family and settle disputes. She would apologize to Tammy and tell her how much she appreciated her for being there all of those years. She would take Maggie out to dinner and ask for her forgiveness. In the past year and a half, Maggie and Kayla had been fighting; and it was all Kayla's fault. It was Kayla that chased away Maggie's only love. Jealousy? A little, yes. It was mainly out of fear. Maggie was Kayla's world; the two were inseperable. They had planned on moving out of the City and getting a house together. They had many plans, and Kayla wouldn't have anyone ruin them. It's more out of selfishness that Kayla sent Maggie's boyfriend packing. Kayla was a rotten person for the things she had done in her past. Thinking of her past made her angry. She turned the tables and blamed everyone for her past. She cursed God for putting her in this position. He was punishing her, and she just knew it. She started to cry again. Kayla knew the truth; God wasn't punishing her, it was no one's fault. But her anger kept her from believing the truth. Just as she was starting to doze off from exhaustion, the creak of a door piqued her attention. The car bounced softly, suggesting Roger was climbing into the driver's seat. Kayla froze as the engine cranked over and roared. Without warning, the car jerked forward and took a sharp right turn. Kayla's body slid to the left side of the trunk, smashing her head against the frame, and filling her back and forearms with splinters. She tried to brace herself with her hands and feet, but Roger's deliberate, reckless driving tossed her around like a rag doll. The tires screeched and squealed over the slick street. Her body slowly slid to the end of the trunk. This told her that the speed of the car was picking up. She heard horns blaring and other vehicle's tires squealing. Yet, the sound of sirens weren't there to relieve her. And speed bumps; what speed bumps? Roger flew over any obstacle in the road. The car swayed and road the bumps and potholes of the street, bouncing Kayla up and down harshly.

[color=darkgreen]Wow, this is the first that I've seen in the Lounge, lol. While the environment and conditions of the bathroom greatly decide my decision, I'd have to say that I would choose the stall furthest away. Sorry, but I like my privacy. As for a horror story, that'll take a bit to think about. It's not necessarily something that I did. But it definitely sways me to stay away from the door, or near the middle. Okay, last week, I was in the mall shopping for a b-day present for Jeh, and I bought a T-shirt for myself (after I'd gotten Jeh's present, of course). Well, it was really hot out that day, and I had to walk across the long parking lot to get to Best Buy. So, I figured I'd change into my new, lighter T-shirt. I headed to the upper level bathroom. The bathroom is set up so that you have to walk down a small corridor before you make the turn into the restroom area. Well, I saw that a few women were leaving, so I thought the stalls would be empty. To my dismay, the stalls were all filled. No big deal, I would just wait my turn. That didn't happen. My stay there was cut short when a woman in the middle stall decided to release..the demons (to put it nicely). I'm sorry, but I wouldn't be able to stand there without feeling really, really uncomfortable..or started laughing. I felt sorry for the women surrounding her. I bolted from the restrooms, still able to hear the woman's bodily noises down the hall. [/color]

[b]8:13 PM[/b] ?Excuse me, how much longer do you think it?ll be?? Kayla, frustrated with the duration of time, asked, ?I could have already walked there by now..? ?Oh, not much longer, Babe. I have to take a lil? detour. The street?s being re-paved,? Roger, or Rog as he preferred, waved his hand over the steering column. It was as if he were trying to draw a map on his windshield for her. Kayla sighed and sat back. The window next to her face began to streak with rain. The drizzle had become heavier, perhaps adding to the delay of the drive. Being a Friday night, traffic would be a little crazy. Lanes of vehicles performing a daredevil of ballet mesmerized the young woman. How she wish she could weave in and out of traffic with such grace. Alas, she was incapable of such control. It seems that ?road rage? is something that would hold her back. ?How old are you? You don?t look a day over seventeen,? Rog was able to lay down a smooth, yet discomforting sleazy, compliment. ?Would you mind just paying attention to the road? The rain is starting to come down hard,? Kayla folded her arms over her well-covered chest. She was wearing nothing to attract too much attention to herself. Just a pink sweater , white button-up blouse underneath, and black, satin slacks. Her make-up was conservative; pink eyeshadow and light blush, to match her sweater. ?Actually, Miss, do you mind if I make a pit stop at this gas station? My stomach really doesn?t want to agree with me tonight. You see, I--? began Roger. ?Whatever, just--hurry up,? Kayla rubbed a hand over her mouth before breathing out, ?fuck.? ?Thank you, Darlin?,? Roger, clearly unaware of Kayla?s crude remark, smiled gratefully and slowed the cab to make his left turn. ?I?m just goin? to be a minute,? the repulsive driver grunted uncomfortably as he climbed from his seat. The steering wheel groaned and cracked when he pulled the lever to release it; forcing the column to lift upwards, and giving Roger the room he needed to maneuver his body out of the car. He gave Kayla a wink and trotted into the convenience store of the gas station. This was the first time Kayla had been able to make out the details of Roger?s characteristics. He was a tall man, probably about a good seven inches above her. He was heavy set, as mentioned before. But once he stood his towering height, the weight seemed to settle around his hips; which to Kayla?s disgust, jiggled as he trotted. If that wasn?t enough to repel her, Roger?s pants were worn and grungy-looking. They were also too short for his long legs. He wore greenish brown T-shirt that was so tight, the bottom edged its way up Roger?s lower abdomen. ?Maggie, I?m going to rip you a new asshole,? Kayla lay her head back against the seat and rest her face against the cool window. The engine made random ticking sounds, indicating it was probably over-run and heated. She looked at her watch, hoping that time was actually passing slowly. The party had been going on for at least forty-five minutes already, and it was getting late. [b]8:29 PM[/b] ?Sorry ?bout that, Miss,? Roger?s voice broke her thoughts, ?Say, why don?t you come ?n sit up here with me; keep me company.? Roger rest one hand on top of the cab, the other hung loosely at his side. His body tilted on his right, revealing a hair-covered gut to hang over a large buckle. Kayla reached for her door and shook her head. ?Aw, I won?t bite you,? Roger chuckled and started to walk around the back of the car. His laughter echoed dully and gradually grew louder as he approached Kayla?s side. Impulsively, she slid to her left. Roger scratched at his groin before reaching for the door handle and pulling it open just barely. ?I don?t want to sit in front. I?m perfectly fine with where I?m at, thank you,? she bit her tongue to keep from stammering. ?Okay then, suit yourself,? Roger opened the door to slam it shut. His body language indicated that he was obviously upset with Kayla?s reaction. The driver spent the next two to three minutes adjusting the steering wheel and himself before starting the tired car. One attempt and it failed to turn over. He chuckled nervously and promised Kayla it was just over-heated and needed to cool down. He waited one minute more, and turned the key; the car fired to life. Taking a breath of some relief, Kayla sat as close as she could to her door. For comfort, she clutched the handle; just in case. ?I?m sorry if I scared you by asking you to join me in the front,? he began, not even looking in the rear view mirror, ?It?s just that--it?s just that I?ve been lonely without my wife.? ?Excuse me?? Kayla snapped her head around, and once again covered her chest. ?No, no,? Roger?s belch-like laugh broke through his throat, ?Not anything like that. I mean, my wife, she used to ride with me from time to time. Mostly at night, so I would stay awake. Didn?t have kids, so I really wanted her to be with me at night. Never know what can happen. Especially in this city, right?? ?Yeah,? Kayla relaxed again, but didn?t let her guard up. ?Bet you?re wondering what happened to her?? ?It?s none of my business,? Kayla tried to reply kindly. ?Oh, pish posh,? Roger grew quiet for a few moments, ?Today was the anniversary.? ?Congratulations. How long have you two been together?? Kayla decided to lighten up for a little while. What harm would it do to get him on the topic of someone other than herself? ?We were together for a few years. But she left me two years ago. God rest her soul,? Roger fell silent again. Kayla shifted, a bit ashamed of her gratitude. She opened her mouth to apologize when Roger made a sudden right turn; throwing Kayla into the door. The force of the abrupt turn and the impact of her body flung against the glass resulted in a trickle of blood on Kayla?s chin. ?I?m so sorry! Are you okay?? Roger threw one arm over the front seat to grab the girl by the arm, ?Oh my God, I?m so sorry. Let me pull over and take a look at that.? The car slowed to a soft halt. Kayla, a little dizzy from the commotion, blinked and looked outside. She squinted through the blood smear on the glass and examined the surroundings. It was dark and crowded. Silhouettes of buildings was all Kayla could see. It looked to be an alleyway, or a really quiet part of town. A part that she was not familiar with, so it was hard for her to figure out where she might be. Roger?s voice, shaken not stirred, pierced through the darkness like a knife. The area was so quiet, it was deafening. And the ringing in her ears only muffled whatever noise there happened to be. Kayla was unable to hear her door open, and she tumbled onto the puddle-littered ground. Her strawberry hair soaked up the muddy water she landed in. Rain drops danced on her eyelids, causing her vision to blur. She looked up, shielding the rain with one hand, to see Roger standing above her. He knelt down to stroke her face with the back of his dirty hand. ?You?re so beautiful. Just like her.? The time is now 8:38 PM.

[color=darkgreen]I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed this volume. The feel to this volume was really, much more moving. I was able to get a better image of the characters. And speaking of image, I really, really loved The Accord. The way you described him was supurb, and I gathered my own mental image. I saw him as a mix of Jack the Skelington, Marilyn Manson, and Edward Scissorhands. Absolutely beautiful, Gav. I have to be honest, out of your writing works, this has to be your best so far.[/color]

[color=darkgreen]Hm, nice to know. I would have considered it death metal. At least, compared to something like Godsmack--which is heavy rock, but not metal. As for Mudvayne, I believe I covered all that I wanted to say about them. A great band, great songs, great music. I'm looking forward to hearing their new album. "Happy" (I believe it's called--I only heard it a couple of times) really sounds great. I hope the rest of their album sounds like that. I really hope they don't sell out like I first assumed. It would be really sad. [/color]

[quote name='Jake of Bodom']I've been a diehard Slipknot fan since MFKR (Mate Feed Kill Repeat - it's the first album). I love all the albums, but Vol. III threw me for a loop. I hated it at first (Vermillion pt II? What the hell? On a SLIPKNOT album?). I didn't listen to it for quite a while, but when I gave it a spin again I found this: I love the album, but it's just not Slipknot! [/quote] [color=darkgreen] It [i]is[/i] Slipknot. What's wrong with trying something new? What's wrong with expressing a soft side? Who freakin' cares if it's supposed to be "death metal"; it's healthy to excersise versatility every once in a while. It shows the capability of the band. I absolutely love it. You have both the hard side of Slipknot, then there's a ray of light through a storm. It's not what you would expect from a band like Slipknot, but that's the beauty of it all. That's what makes them so talented, and one of the better metal bands out there. Appreciate that.[/color] [quote]Three Nil, Pulse of the Maggots, Before I Forget - these songs are awesome, but there's just something not Slipknot about it all. And yes, they mellowed out like hell, but it doesn't mean they sold out. The second a band starts making money, everyone starts accusing that band of selling out. I don't think Slipknot sold out, they just wanted to try some new stuff. [/QUOTE] [color=darkgreen]Exactly. So, "what the hell?" Why is everyone so rash towards the band for playing around with new stuff? Sure, like I said before, it's different. But that doesn't suggest to scold the metal band for releasing a couple of soft songs. Hell, even Ozzy has softer songs. It's aggravating to see people judging against amazing bands because they aren't used to new music.[/color]

[color=darkgreen]Hm, quite the odd of your work, Gav. I thought it was a great intro into the Wichersleeves series you're doing. For some reason, it seemed a bit rushed. Maybe that's just me. All around, I'm excited to see the next chapter.[/color]

[color=darkgreen]Eh, I'm not great; I'm still learning Photoshop. But here's my attempt:[/color]

[color=darkgreen]Yes, yes. Thanks for pointing that out, JJ. I re-read it, and saw that ^_^; Thank you all for your comments. I'll probably get the second part up sometime this week.[/color]

[color=darkgreen]I, for one, adore Marilyn Manson. His music is beautiful, and his lyrics happen to conjoin with truth. Aside from his music, Marilyn is highly intelligent and is quite civil (despite what [i]many[/i] people think). I find Marilyn intriguing in the fact that he is very eccentric and has this sort of mystery. I find him attractive in this way, and would [insert what you like here] myself if he ever approached me. He's intimidating and scary, but that is what I find fascinating. How someone can scare me, yet lure me in; with both amazing vocals, lyrics, and music, and eccentric sexuality. Oh, I have two of his albums. I have [b]Mechanical Animals[/b] and [b]Golden Age of Grotesque[/b]. Both have great songs. [b]Lest We Forget[/b] is a CD of his greatest hits. And, I was informed that "Personal Jesus" can only be found on that CD. Which is too bad; I don't want to buy that album if I already have 2 CDs that half of the songs came from :p However, I definitely suggest MA and GAoG for every one of you fans.[/color]

[center][size=5][b][u]Taxi![/u][/b][/size][/center] [size=2]I?ve never liked taxi cabs. In fact, I?d walk city blocks in the scorching, blistering heat before I?d take a cab. The thought of sitting in that rickety back seat, glancing in the rearview mirror to see that nicotine-ridden face staring back at me, just makes me nerves crawl. Climbing into the back to smell the putrid scent of old, sun-roasted leather, the dirt and grime crusted on the floorboards, and to have nothing to look at but the overall horrible condition of the vehicle, makes me gag and cringe. I?m not a princess, nor am I a ?Daddy?s girl?. I don?t set standards higher than that can be appreciated. I don?t expect, nor want, a limousine service with the red carpet. But there?s just something, something about taxi cabs. Perhaps it?s the car, you sit and expect it to carry you safely to your destination. Yet, there?s a looming clanking in that old engine, and you can?t help the thought of it breaking down. Or perhaps it?s the driver. You have no idea who the person in front of you is. How can you trust a complete stranger with your life, or the life of your loved ones? Has this person had any criminal acts in their past? What exactly are they thinking when you enter their cab? What happens if they had a bad day, and decide to end their life with you in the cab? Or, they take their fury out on you? ?That will never happen to me.? This is what people say to themselves to seek comfort every time devastation rears its ugly face. I once thought this way; I figured the odds of the population were in my favor. There?s so many people in the city I live--well, lived in. I had it in my head that I, out of something-odd-thousand of people, would never see tragedy with jumping in a foreign vehicle made for public service. However, and most unfortunate for myself, my adamant mindset and attitude got the best of me. [b]April 16th, 1997, 6:49 PM[/b] ?No, go ahead and start the party without me,? pacing the linoleum floor, Kayla flicked her fingers through the blinds of her kitchen window, ?The Accord is dead.? ?What?s wrong? Didn?t you get a tune-up just last month?? Maggie, Kayla?s life-time friend, blared into the receiver, forcing Kayla to reel the cordless phone back. ?Yes, I did. I think the starter is going out. It won?t even crank over, and I had the battery replaced in the tune-up,? she glared at the turquoise contraption that sat useless in her driveway. ?Do you have money? Get a cab.? ?I will not. You know me,? the blinds snapped closed, shutting the frustrating view. ?I?m paying for it, Kayla. You haven?t seen Tammy in three years, and she was like a mother to us. You know she?s leaving in a few days, and you?re not going to see her because of your fucking taxi cab phobia? That?s pretty fucking pathetic,? Maggie groaned. They had been through this many times. There were countless memories of their friends piling into a taxi, and Kayla refused to take the ride. Instead, she walked several blocks to the final destination. Interviews, family gatherings, hell, if she didn?t have a date, she?d have taken the taxi to the prom. As time passed, and they grew older, this ?phobia? of Kayla?s only became worse; and it got in the way of quality time. ?You?re right. I?m being a douche. What cab do you suggest?? Kayla, obviously unnerved with the idea, scouted her kitchen counter for something to write with and something to write on. ?Call ?Instacab Taxi?, they?re pretty descent with price and drivers. The number is..? Maggie began. [I]I can?t believe I?m doing this. And it?s supposed to storm tonight. Mick better be able to give me a ride home..[/I] Kayla jotted down the number. Her hand shook with both anxiety and anger; so hard that the pen pressed deep into the notepad, carving a slight canyon rather than drawing numbers. She glanced through the blinds again. It had started to drizzle. [b]7:52 PM[/b] ?Where?re you headin? to, Sweetness?? a robust, grungy man shifted in the driver?s seat. ?1827 Sandser Street. It?s just a block away from Shop-n-Go,? Kayla cautiously slid onto the seat. The crackled leather nipped and caught on her satin slacks. The man was clearly over weight, but not obese, and had no respect for personal hygiene. His face looked like it had not seen a razorblade in weeks. His hair, disheveled and stringy, framed a darkened face. His stench lingered, blending with the smoke and, surprisingly, the scent of liquor. Kayla furrowed her brow and tried to keep her nose from wrinkling. Her eyes scanned the dashboard. She found that it hadn?t been dusted or cleaned. Outlines of has-been stickers littered the faded blue plastic. Air fresheners, designed to make a comfortable smelling atmosphere, hung by the dozen from the rearview mirror. Sadly, and most expectedly, they gave no fragrance. ?Goin? to a party?? he pulled out of the gravel driveway. The small pebbles moaned as they were forced to grind underneath the weight of the car. Headlights passed, illuminating the man?s stubby face for brief seconds. ?I?m going somewhere,? Kayla vaguely replied. If it?s one thing to ride in a taxi cab, it?s another to make small talk with the stranger. Not that Kayla was much of a talker in the first place, but it was none of his business. ?I was just guessing by your clothes, and the perfume,? he threw an attempt of a smile over his right shoulder. Kayla cleared her throat and tried to concentrate on the lights of the city. Pinks and greens, blues and yellows, reds and oranges, dotted the black of the night. Horns and passing cars actually began to relax her nerves. That is, until she had the sneaky suspicion that the driver kept staring at her in the mirror. She would glance up on occasion and catch his beady, black eyes wander back to the road. ?The name is Roger,? Roger adjusted the mirror, ?But you can call me ?Rog?. And I?ll be your driver for the evening.?[/size]

[right][b][u]Chapter 1[/u] Page 1[/b] Characters in play: Wendy, Michael, Peter, and Tinker Bell.[/right] [b]?Wendy! Supper time!?[/b] Mrs. Darling stood at the foot of the twisted staircase. She was a patient woman, sweet and kind. Her voice rang softly, barely audible on the second floor. Which resulted in her calling out once more. [b]?Wendy Darling, I won?t tell you again,?[/b] said Mrs. Darling, slightly agitated. Her long, velvety dress swept across the hardwood floor. Soft clicks and clacks of her shoes echoed throughout the house, slowly drowned out by the pounding of Wendy?s on the floor above. [b]?Coming mother!? [/b] Wendy, still in her school uniform, fumbled to descend the stairs in some natural form. The banister railing, supposedly there to aide one to step with ease, served the young woman as a slide. Thank goodness Mr. Darling and Mrs. Darling had not caught Wendy; much trouble would have been in store. [I]?Do not encourage your brothers, Wendy. We can?t possibly afford a trip to Doctor Randalph?s office,?[/I] Mr. Darling had told her once before. Wendy rounded the entryway into the dining room to find her family waiting just for her. Michael and John sat on either side of Mr. Darling, while his wife sat opposite of the square, mahogany table. Wendy walked around the table to take her seat just to her mother?s left. The candle light danced on the empty silver plates. [b]?Sorry, I have much to pack,?[/b] Wendy breathed, her face flushed pink in both embarrassment and the rush of excitement. [b]?You used the banister rail again, didn?t you Wendy??[/b] John smirked. It was obvious as Wendy started to take her seat; the hem of her skirt rose high in the rear. [b]?What have I told you about that rail, dear??[/b] Mr. Darling, the stricter of the parents, stressed, adjusting his glasses. [b]?I didn?t want to keep you all waiting any more than you have,?[/b] Wendy smoothed out her skirt and sat on the blue, crushed velvet of the seat. [b]?Don?t let me hear of that again,?[/b] her father?s condoning tone hushed the room. [b]?So, Wendy,?[/b] Mrs. Darling spoke sweetly, [b]?are you ready for the trip to Starling Academy??[/b] Starling Academy was the most prestigious school for girls; it was more of a finishing school than an academy. Mr. Darling thought it best to send Wendy to the academy for further studies in how to be more of a responsible lady. He felt it necessary for his daughter to grow up properly. But what does Wendy care about properness? However it may distress her, she knew it was the right thing to do. There was no other option for Wendy; she had to grow up. [b]?I am, Mother.? ?Well, I?m not ready for Wendy to leave,?[/b] Michael whined over his spoonful of soup. [b]?Michael, love, eat your soup,?[/b] Mrs. Darling encouraged. [b]?Well I?m not,?[/b] he shoved the spoon into his mouth and slurped the soup out of annoyance. [b]?Michael, your manners,?[/b] Wendy narrowed her eyes. [b]?Why do you have to leave?? ?We have to grow up sometime, Michael,?[/b] Wendy tried to sooth her little brother. He was always the closest to her. [b]?No we don?t, you used to tell us that we don?t have to grow up unless we want to. And you?re growing up because you want to!?[/b] Michael stood from his chair and stormed out of the room. [b]?Oh dear,?[/b] John shook his head, stirring aimlessly around the bowl. [b]?Mother, Father, may I be excused??[/b] Wendy set her napkin down. Mr. Darling, now rubbing at his temples, waved his hand dismissively. The youngest of his children only happened to be the tempered one. Mrs. Darling nodded with an understanding smile. Wendy chased after Michael. There was one place he would run to whenever he wanted to be alone; that was the small gazebo in the backyard garden. Being an eight-year old, there he would sit underneath high bench seats and pretend he was invisible. The evening was chilled, but not cold. Spring had its way of bringing in a fresh, warm breeze. Wendy tip-toed towards the gazebo, careful not to suggest Michael to run again. All right, notice that under the chapter I listed the page number. I would like everyone to do that when they post. It makes it look like a book. Please use the Underground thread for questions/suggestions/comments.

[color=darkgreen]Here's my shot:[/color]