- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- 3pm-10:00pm, though sometimes I disappear for a day or two
- Writing Levels
- Elementary
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Transgender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Drama, angst, dark roleplays, yaoi, modern, set in the future, romance, horror, family, coming of age. I like a lot of shit.
Prolog: Her Neck Smiles Red
Red. Red has always been my most favorite of colors. It was the color of love. The color of passion. The color of beauty. And most importantly, the color of blood. Red. So perfect, so bold. No matter what, red always looked pretty. It looked pretty in clothes, pretty on lips, pretty in hair, and right now? It looked just gorgeous seeping out of her once untarnished neck, painting the streets that perfect color. Who was she? I had no clue. She's just a common whore no one would miss. She was disgusting. A disgrace. An abomination, until I made her pretty. God, was she gorgeous right now, blood slowly oozing from her neck, in a nearly sexual manner.
Gasping as though I had just ran a mile, I watched as the thick, hot liquid pooled onto the streets. My body trembled as though it was cold, and my heart pound so hard that I could feel it in the back of my throat. My knuckles were turning pale from how hard I was clenching the knife in my left hand. And yet, I never felt more at peace. I did good deed. I know I did. I was cleansing the streets, ridding them of these ungodly beings. Prostitutes. I purified her, by the only way I could. By giving her a pretty red smile that went across her neck. From ear, to ear. She was pure now. She was no longer a vulgar creature.
Though this whore wasn't who I was after. No. Who I was after was Mary Jane Kelly. My beloved older sister. I wasn't ready for her yet, but when I was, I would purify her in the best way I could. I would paint her so red, no one would be able to tell it was her. And then, she would be free, and pure, like the sister I grew up with. The sister I loved dearly.
