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volo morior

PostPosted: Sat Jul 07, 2012 12:41 pm
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PostPosted: Sat Jul 07, 2012 3:56 pm
ςąℓℓ μs мə ηąмəℓəss

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Hiding

quietly

in

my

room

...



The air was sticky with humidity, the air so still and oppressing that any sort of exertion was too much, even walking left you feeling like your lungs were filled with lead, it was just one of those miserable days. In this heat the small black sports car pulled up to the curb in the alley, a small shop’s door opened into the nearly claustrophobic space, a small bell hangs above the door, the glass within the frame having been painted over with black. A shabby sign hung on the door knob stating they were open in sloppy red letters. The door to the car opened and a man stepped out, square jaw holding thin lips which stayed in a stern line, his deep green eyes looking spiteful and annoyed. He walked around to the other side of the car and wrenched open the door, yanking out the other male within who obliged without so much as a sound. The man released the other quickly, as if afraid of what disease he could acquire from proximity, wiping his palm on the side of his expensive looking black jacket which covered a pressed navy blue polo.

He slammed the door of the car shut before walking to the shop’s door, his gait a bit stiff due to the poor design of his fashionable-though impractical-dress pants, perhaps to some his look would be smart looking, but in truth he didn’t know how to pick his own outfits without assistance and with the help on vacation he’d had to make due. He pulling open the door and was instantly bombarded with the sounds and smell of too many people crowded into one area under less than ideal conditions, but this was to be expected within a shop specializing in slaves. The bell above had tinkled and alerted the shop keeper to a customer, the old male graying and his dark blue eyes slightly sunken into his face. He placed down the paper he was reading and stood from the stool behind the counter as he walked over to greet the new comer who by now was looking behind him and yelling something inaudible to the old man over the sounds of the encaged slaves murmurs and whines.

The rich man’s eyes were cold despite the heat which was made only worse by his jacket which he refused-do to pure pride-to remove. He was yelling with a husky voice to a boy, or rather young man, who then slowly approached, the words not really reaching him, but he assumed he’d been doing something wrong to be getting scolded so he’d just move closer to learn what that was. But once he could hear his master clearly he realized what had been wanted of him. “Don’t you know by now to follow me? So useless!” The man hollered practically into his face, but distant grey eyes only looked back in response, the boy’s mouth shut, his lips a line nearly mimicking that of the older male, though his expression had none of the annoyance, the anger, the frustration. His expression held hardly anything, just obedience, and that what was made this man so enraged!

The shop keeper approached them, waiting for the man to stop yelling before clearing his throat. “May I help you sir?” He asked in a voice that could be mistaken for soft if his face didn’t look hard with weariness. The man reached out and grabbed the boy by the worn red leather collar about his neck and ranked him harshly into the shop before letting the door shut, it was much cooler in here then outside though he couldn’t see an air conditioner which he assumed must be the cause.

“I wish to sell this.” He said giving the collar one more tug before releasing it, the boy trying to ignore the urge to rub the sore chaffed part of the back of his neck, it would only lead the man to pull the restraint again. The shop keeper looked over the boy quietly, his hair was a strange grey color for someone so young, but many now assumed the stress he’d suffered as a slave had lead to this premature sign of aging. His eyes sat in an oval face, pale complexion and blank expression led to him seeming more like a corpse than a living being. The red collar about his neck only partially showed the red rash that was caused from the constant pulling, the metal clip on it looking as if stuck in place like it hadn’t been removed since it had been first put on-which it hadn’t. He wore a simple white long sleeve despite the heat, the thin film of sweat from just the few moments outside fading in the cooler interior of the building. His pants too were long, a simple fabric in black that allowed free movement but was now clinging to his skin. His build was lanky, though perhaps more because he had little aside from skin and bone even though he wasn’t very tall.

He didn’t hold the shop keepers eyes while he was being looked over, instead he looked about the shop, small cages made of what seemed to be steel, just tall enough for someone to stand and just wide enough for someone to lay down if they bent their legs a bit. Some were occupied, beings of different shapes and sizes, some human, some more like a beast, some a cross between the two at least in appearance. A couple had tattered blankets or thin pillows, but most were bare aside their inhabitants and a container of water which looked less then clear. But all these attributes didn’t surprise the boy, he was all too familiar with this type of place. “I guess I’ll take him, how much?” The shop keeper finally said and grey eyes looked back to him briefly, the boy resigned himself immediately to the fact that he would now be a captive for a cage once more.

“Two grand, take it or leave it.” The green eyed man said while pulling at the collar of his own shirt, still too prideful to remove the sweltering jacket. The shop keeper looked over the boy again before sighing and nodding, the boy seemed worth the price on looks alone since many perspective buyers enjoyed those who looked a bit… exotic. The men walked to the counter as the shop keeper wrote a check for the green eyed man, the boy just stayed where he was, eyes once more looking about, wondering which empty cage would soon be his cell. Soon his –now former-master was smirking at the check in his hand, unable to wait to cash it and be done with this foolish business. He walked by the boy without so much as another glance, as if it were only some unattractive shirt or device that he had just sold. The boy too didn’t give the man another glance either, he had no reason to, he was free of him.

Instead he looked to the shop keeper as the bell tinkled again when the man left, the sound of the car pulling away soon heard before the normal murmur of the shop returned, the slaves in cages having been hopeful, thinking that perhaps they would be bought, but now resigned to return to hoping for another perspective master to walk in. The old man walked to the boy and looked him over once more before signaling him to follow him, a bit surprised that the grey eyes male did so easily, obediently. He took a key from a ring he wore of the loop of his jeans and unlocked a cage door, the sound of it opening nearly like nails on a chalk board. He waved the boy in and again he did as he was told and as the door shut behind him he sat on the cold hard floor, facing the back of the cage, his eyes falling onto on the bars and wall beyond. He ran a hair through his uneven hair, he’d had to cut it with a knife when it got too long and had done a poor-but effective-job of it.

The shop keeper walked away and then came back with a small plaque on which he wrote with a thick black marker. “How old are you?” He asked and the boy just shrugged, not looking to him. The man sighed and wrote nineteen, an approximate age based on the boy’s appearance. “What species are you?” He asked next, this time grey eyes glanced over his shoulder to the man with a hollowness to them.

“Human.” He responded, his voice sounding tired and aged, again a trait that came from this life, and also from the constant pulling of the collar that adorned his neck.

The man wrote this down as well before tapping his stubble covered chin with the end of the marker, trying to think of what else should be stated for easy access for buyers. Then he blinked as he remembered that he’d forgotten one of the more basic things-though that was not rare these days with his worsening memory. “What’s your name boy?” He asked and grey eyes turned back to look once more at the wall and the man assumed perhaps he didn’t hear him for whatever reason. He opened his mouth to speak again but before he could the soft words of the boy reached him.

“What my master wishes to call me.” He said simply, and the owner grumbled a bit, he couldn’t very well right that on the plaque and so he didn’t just decided to write nameless in its place. He then capped the marker and went back to the counter, stiffly hopping up onto the hard stool and picking up his paper once more, reading about some sports team or another and the latest game and wining scores. Back in his cage the boy had lain down on his side, his hip painfully digging into the floor along with his shoulder, his head resting on his bent arm. Soon grey eyes blinked shut and his breathing slowed and lightened, what better way to pass time in a place like this but to sleep? Around him the murmur was still constant of the other slaves but the boy was once more silent, his only movement the slight uprising and falling of his chest beneath his shirt.


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There's no room left for me in this shelter!
What did you expect me to become?
No more than a disciplined little soldier...
Left no space for me to grow!

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volo morior


volo morior

PostPosted: Sun Jul 08, 2012 7:44 am
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So stop apologizing!
There's nothing wrong with being different...
Despite their accusations...
You've always proven that you're better!
↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕

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Their
twisted

version

of

reality

...


ςąℓℓ мə μs ηąмəℓəss
 
PostPosted: Mon Jul 09, 2012 9:05 pm
It's all we've been givin'


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So you better start livin'

ћє ςągє ώąsћєя

He was waking, the sound of the creaky cage door opening alerting him that someone was either expecting him to come out, or otherwise they were putting something in. The blackness of sleep faded away to the darkness of his closed eyelids before those too blinked opened, grey eyes seeing the wall he’d fallen asleep facing. He listened a few more moments, not yet moving, trying to keep his breathing shallow while he decided what this new comer was doing opening the door to his cell. But after a moment he heard the distinct sound of water being poured into water and realized that it must be the old shop keeper setting up the one necessity that was unavoidable for any slave-access to water. As he lay there he realized he was indeed thirsty, his throat tight with dryness even in the humidity that-though lessened-was still a bit dense within the shop. He sat up smoothly, feeling the pain in his hip and shoulder flare to life as he rubbed them, trying to seem unaffected as he turned himself on his rear to face the front of the cage.

Grey eyes blinked curiously once before he dipped his cupped pale hands into the water and then brought them to his lips, his gaze still glancing at the one who was holding the old –and at one point-white bucket which now was a strange grey, the water that had come from it tasting nearly stale, as if dust had collected within it and created a film, which was very possible. Finally the person removed himself from the entrance to the cage and replaced the bucket on the ground beside the cage while he crouched, hands on his knees and supported by the balls of his feet. This male wasn’t the shop keeper, instead he was young-perhaps only a year or two older than the slave himself-wearing a black tank top, his thin but slightly muscled arms visible. He also wore dark red shorts which made a slight swish sound when he moved. His complexion was a light tanned color, as if he’d been out working in the sun for a time but not enough to truly color his skin, just enough to tint it.

His eyes, which were watching the grey haired boy curiously and tensely, where a grass green color, not bright enough to be described as emerald but darker than green apples. They did though have a certain light to them, like a cat watching a feather fall before them, unsure if they should pounce or just let it settle to the ground. Even the way he was balancing himself on his feet seemed more like a feline, but as far as appearances went he was a full blooded human. His brown hair fell into his face, though it was obviously styled that way, just short enough to keep from his eyes but long enough to show of how well he cared for it. When the slave had first looked to him there had been shock on his face, but that had by now given way to a slight grin which soon was a smile. Grey eyes just stared blankly back, the boy’s damp hands resting on his legs, his lips their characteristic straight line.

Finally after what seemed like ages-though was no more than five or so minutes- the brown haired male spoke, his voice a bit loud in the way he presented it though in truth was only at a normal speaking level. “You scared me pretty bad when you sat up, some of the others here will try to go after me if I’m not careful and since you’re new and gramps didn’t tell me how you behaved, well you get the point.” He spoke swiftly, and the slave just watched with something like boredom though in truth that wasn’t the case, not that he was really intrigued either, really he was hardly listening, just deciding if there was an order to be followed in the boy’s words and when there wasn’t he turned himself back around to face the wall and bars once more. The shop worker blinked those green eyes, the smile falling from his face and being replaced by a small frown, he wasn’t use to slaves ignoring him in that way, most of the others here begged him for things like more food or a pillow, or at least for him to speak to them for awhile, the confines of a cage easily causing slight madness.

But this one just didn’t seem to care one way or another and so the young man stood, grabbing the handle of the bucket and shutting the cell door, locking the heavy bars into place before giving one more look to the boy before shrugging and walking away. It wasn’t as if he lost anything by a slave ignoring him, his job was just to care for them, make sure they were healthy enough to be sold and work for a new master, he couldn’t go about getting truly friendly with any of them, but he’d always tried to at least be kind to these beings who came in, after all he assumed that many went to less than kind homes after leaving here. Truthfully the brunette didn’t enjoy the idea of slavery, at least not in the way it seemed to be now, slaves weren’t used so much as workers anymore from what he could tell by the stories he’d heard, and judging by the red collar about the grey haired boy’s neck he assumed it to be true in his case as well.

He’d been a bit sidetracked and opened a door to a cage where in lay a girl in a thin white dress, a feline like tail twitching out from under it, flicking the air. Atop her head were two feline ears which twitched at the sound of her door opening and her hands flexed as her eyes opened, the black pupils vertical slits on her amber irises. Just as she jumped up to gauge him with her nails, a feline hiss ripping from her throat the boy backed away and shut the door loudly, catching her on the forehead as she reeled back and continued with animalistic snarls and hisses. The boy sighed, clutching his chest as his heart raced, he should have been paying better attention, he looked around and realized just how many of those here could kill him if he weren’t. He walked instead to the side of the cage and with a pole much like a snake hook dragging the water bowl closer until he could clumsily dump water from his bucket into the bowl. The girl sat in the corner, fear in her eyes and hate-pure hate. He sighed again as he went onto the next cage, there was no use trying to speak with someone so much like a beast, he’d already tried.

From his cage the grey eyed slave had looked over his shoulder to watch the male, having heard the sounds of the girl and the slamming of a door. He was a bit thankful that he wasn’t like her, a beast without any true mind or reason, but then again was he much better? Even though he could think he rarely did, even though he had reason he never used it. That wasn’t the job of a slave, he was only supposed to submit and do what was willed of him. But right then, as he watched the green eyed cage washer walk to a cage with a frail looking boy-no older than sixteen-and speak to him kindly, the boy reacting with a soft grin though his eyes were dark with the emotions he felt barred in like this, he realized perhaps he should have spoken with the male, at least a word or two, he hadn’t met many kind people in his life, perhaps it would have been refreshing…

Then again he didn’t want to get use to kindness, he’d break apart the next time he got a cruel master after all, and he didn’t want to deal with that. Currently e was getting by, the scars only on his body and not his mind-as far as he was concerned-and he wanted to keep it that way. But as he looked back to the wall, closing his grey eyes after a few moments those staying sitting so that he wouldn’t dose off, he listened to the soft murmurings of the two a few cages away, the words indistinguishable, but he could tell they were kind and light, assumedly a nice reprieve for the young boy who no doubt had been forced into this life. And time passed, slowly and unremarkably, but the grey haired slave listened to the movements of the brunette, the one person who just didn’t fit well into the normal idea of a shop such as this, as he went about speaking with some of the slaves, trying to avoid harm from others until finally all the water bowls were filled and he walked once more by the nameless male’s cage.

The boy heard him pause outside the bars a moment before continuing on into the back of the shop where he remained for some time, the slave opening his eyes and glancing around blankly, trying to see if he’d missed him walk by again but realized he hadn’t. He suppressed the urge to become a bit disappointed at that, he was a bit bored in here which though normally he would sleep through he found he didn’t wish to, something telling him that he shouldn’t though he had no idea what. But just as he was about to ignore that nagging feeling and lay back down again he heard footsteps once more and soon the brunette reappeared, his green eyes having a bit of glimmer to them. He crouched beside the cage and handing an old looking book through the bars and with it a simple pen. When the slave didn’t take them he left them on the floor of the cage and retracted his hand. He spoke softly, as if not wanting anyone else to hear, though since there were only slaves here what did it matter? “If you don’t want to talk that’s fine, but you may be here for some time yet, may as well have something to do.” He smiled gently and then stood.

The boy watched him walk away without giving him any sort of thanks, and once the young man was behind the counter on the stool the old store keeper normally sat at, reading some book with a man in army fatigues on the cover the grey haired male picked up the book and opened it. Inside was scrawled the name Jason which he assumed was the boy who’d given it to him since he didn’t look like someone who would take something and give it to another. It was obvious this was a journal of some sort though as he flicked through a few pages he realized that only the first one had been written on, the rest were empty. He assumed then that he was supposed to fill it in himself then, but he wasn’t sure he would, what would someone like him write about? And so instead he went back to the first page and decided to read the boy’s entry since-by the looks of it-had purely been written for the grey haired slave. As he began he didn’t notice that the other’s green eyes were on him, a happiness to them before they went back to reading his own book, trying to pass the seemingly never ending time.


Somewhere in the race we run
We're coming undone
And days go by
 

volo morior


volo morior

PostPosted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 11:53 am
†ђε ƒїяsτ єητяץ
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✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐

I'm not one for the crowd to see
It's just me,

It's just- Okay

I'll feel okay

✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘


User Image



✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘✗✘

Cut it out of my mouth

put my tongue on the pole

Take the air from my lungs
Take the heart from my soul

I'm not one for the crowd to see

✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐✎ ✐
 
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{{:Sit'n Read! Stories and Literature::}}

 
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