Himarithesayin

Chapter Two- The Chessmaster         The Cheshire smiles as he leads me down what seems to be an endless corridor. A large wooden door with carvings of the four card suits waits at the end of the corridor. " Just so you know, Ms. Madeline. The Chess Master doesn't like visitors. So be careful." he says as he opens the door, walking in with me. Not even two steps in and there's a throwing knife inches from my foot. " What is it Cheshire? You know I don't tolerate visitors." he says with a French accent thicker than butter that has been in the freezer for three hours. " It's Madeline, Sir. It seems that she has forgotten her last visit." Th

        I'm standing in a room painted all black. Eyes covering the walls and moving to watch my every move. In the center is a large black table that could easily seat twenty people. There's plenty of food to go around. That's when a voice from the end of it makes me jump out of my skin.       " AHA!! There's the guest of honor!! Come and eat with us!! Be Merry!!" the man says, waving a clawed hand to the only open seat, right next to him. The rest are occupied by cobweb-covered skeletons.        I take my seat next to him. I look at his face. Half of it is normal, but the other half looks almost demonic. " What's wrong, Madeline? You se

                               It seems like a usual night at the club. Until those two walk in. Twist is a regular here, but the stranger next to him isn't. A fine feast for any set of eyes. Bright blue hair with a section of orange, and long dreads. Normally I would tell anyone to button up their shirt, but not when they have a body like that. They head right to the bar, Voyd following after them. I know voyd because he did my tattoo on my arm, of a small skull.                                Twist beams at me with that heart-melting smile. " The usual for you, water for voyd, right?" I ask with a smile. " Make that two usual's, one for me

  I saw a picture on the news, a portrait of a man. For whatever reason, he was wanted for some sort of crime. The sorrow in this face cannot be measured. Not in the slightest. His eyes are almost hollow and empty. His skin is the color of a serious drinker. He has a scar on his face, and a blind, mostly cloudy eye. Seeing this face causes me to tear up, before it's full blown tears. This face is of a man hardened by misfortune, and fighting. A loud knock at the door makes me jump up, startled like crazy. I dry my tears as i walk up to the door. I look through the peep hole. Only black fabric....weird. But I answer anyway. My hear