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Post by *~`cHEsHirE!i!cHEetAH`~* on Feb 8, 2011 19:16:23 GMT -5
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He walked in his lonesome. He often enjoy his self company, for it was all her felt he needed, other than killing. His life felt good to him often. But a needle sized bit of sanity has hit the coltish-stallion. Young as he maybe, his eyes understood what he saw in his surroundings. Different ages of blood stained the ground here, bones tossed and scattered. Nothing was living. Unless it was a restless ghost. The mind inside the cranium of the coltish-stallion worked silently as for once, the insanity within him may have been calm. But this peace. This tranquility ended quickly as the need to kill again. His behavior. It still has returned to the normality of his wake. His mind was restless. ever since the big brute he ran into during the winter, following a pink mare Insanity was watching. He was in rage that he would make such dumb mistakes in the fight. He looked to his leg, a single small scar marred the skin of his raven blue black leg. He shook his head in rage as he went back to thinking again. He needed something more. Not just blood and gore. Like all the possibilities he had in the place the humes call America. Plenty of subjects. No. No. No. Not subjects. Targets. Possible victims. All those horses and humans he could haunt. All those possible victims he could of claimed as his own. How many would dream of him, as he kill them there, then in their reality. To become the American Nightmare. His wicked smile grew. The hewa-hewa side of him reawakened once more. He need something much more than pain, for it wasn't even saking his lust. This unknown lust of wanting to kill. It wasn't even diminishing. He has tried killing many things, and even a horse, some stray, not yet found a home or even to see the island other than from the same beach he and many horse's like him, from another place, wash up on. His teeth clashed together. Something needed to be done. He want a moment of rest, for he has not slept for a long while now. The only time her gets sleep much now was when he finally went out, falling to exhaustion so great, he would fall on his back and not wake until rested well. Then the maddness revive, ready to take on something much bigger. He thought about it. What will destroy this lust. He felt so lifeless now, for he had nothing to cause pain to. Maybe it wasn't pain or killing or blood he needed. He felt an urge. An urge to jump off a cliff. To crash. To break. To feel pain. It was literary driving him more insane, to the brink. Maybe it was love her need. He shook his head violently, the raven purple black mane making light whipping sound for how hard he was shaking is skull, as an another needle of small sanity came and gone. His teeth clashed together, baring them in a grimace, his ears flattened to his neck, and his blood gold eyes swelled with anger. Love he did not one. He did not need one sticking to him like of drugs addicts. Love wasn't a drug to him. It was a killer toxin that caused many to grow weak of the natural ability of killing. Though making love was different. Violent. Biting. Kicking. Pain. Blood. But not a full kill. But it may do. It may satisfied him long enough to rest well. His brain seemed swelled in his head, an grand ache coming on. but he soaked up its pain. He'd wish it would explode. Kill his mind, so he would no longer need to think. He breathed in the dried iron smell of blood in his nostrils, flaring as if he could not get enough of the air. He wished for the freezing temperatures now. Snow and ice. Stabbing pain. Winter has withered away as the air warmed. But he wanted that pain that the freezing cold would give him, burning and stabbing. Cracking. A small, devil laughter was released as he felt his black hole of insanity were a heart should be grow. He felt that his mind maybe right, as it usually was.Violent love. Exactly what he needed. His teeth clashed together again in a wide, wicked grin. His legs moved forward again, as he was unaware that he had stopped sometime ago in his thinking. He jumped off a small, low ridge that even a foal would get hurt from it, walking past dead brush plants that scratched his thick skin hard, feeling slight pain from it. He was ready to wait it out to find targets, or he would find something to give with satisfaction. Enough to gain some rest. Though there was no rest for the wicked. Nor insane or dead for that matter, as for the dead most generally die a violent death. His smile grew wide as he would find many victims he hoped. The teeth clashed once more again and he grounded the teeth together in anticipation. His new victims will remember him for they would have to. They would bare his child, and see the scars he would leave on them. The smile kept on growing wider and wicked. He will live on in many minds now, for he will haunt them as well. He'd live on in their dreams. He will cause them pain. He will cause them to bleed. He will cause them to wish to die.They may damn his evil soul if it wasn't already damned and gone. A fit on laughter came on. He will succeed, for won't give up. The insane side stayed, no hint that sanity hit him twice. He started to act as if he was a colt, kicking his heels up high. He threw him self high in the air, kicking out. He was now galloping as he hit well to the bottom of the mountain, the anticipation building up to greatly for him to contain.
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[/color] Muse: Grown Insanity...
OOC: Home is were the insane live. And the insane live with no purpose, except to cause insanity and chaos.
Music: Breaking Benjamin: Dairy of Jane+You+Until The End+Dance With The Devil+Unknown Soldier+some others of their songs and repeats.
Word Count: 1016 words.
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