Now For Something Completely Different

I have taken on the exciting task of writing for a blog series, the main theme concerning continuing a story and tacking on songs. I sure hope my submissions will be good enough. This idea came fro Absolute Write, a lovely forum to chat and have fun on.

The participants and articles before me are:

The Beginning
Second Page, from nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com
Third Page, from bigwords88.wordpress.com
Fourth Page stainedglassinthenight.wordpress.com
Fifth Page, from ralfast.wordpress.com
Sixth Page, from hillaryjacques.blogspot.com
Seventh Page, from dustinbishop.wordpress.com
Eighth Page, from matrix-hole.blogspot.com
Ninth Page, from blog.dianarajchel.com
Tenth Page, from drlong67.wordpress.com

The growling voice of hatred cut through the thick fog of music to a single sleeping boy's mind. He lifted his heavy head, covering his ears even though they were already covered by top-of-the-line, noise-cancelling and bass-boosting headphones. The young adolescent smiled suddenly, sitting up from his room, past his sleeping parents and into the kitchen. There he took the largest blade he could find, and his father's trusty gun. Playing with the cold metal in his fingers, he pressed it to his temple and snickered quietly as if there was some kind of joke to be had from suicide. Slipping both gun and knife into his pockets, he left to hunt and answer the calls for justice of the disrespected dead.

Chris seemed confused a moment, curious as to what this obviously drunken woman wanted from him. Nevertheless, he stayed by her side, hoping for a chance of company tonight and also to make sure she would not be ending up dead. A pretty face and a better body did not deserve the poisonous clutches of alcohol, regardless of whether or not it gave him the chances further to make his night worthwhile. The note slipped from his mind with the music and the booze foggying over his judgment. He kissed the stranger, drunk off his mind and seeking a way to escape himself.

Willow was stuck playing baby sitter to a child who could not sleep, porcelain face streaked with tears. There were no words he could offer of comfort, nothing he could say. Hell, he never liked kids to begin with. He set the girl to bed some time ago, but could still hear her soft sniffling, trying to hide her sadness and shock by being as quiet as she could. For a moment his heart went out to the girl, and he stood to move to her and just try to be there for her, when he heard the odd creaking of footsteps and muffled music one would hear from an annoying git who played his heavy techno music too loud. The only warning he got was a click. His eyes trailed down to the gaping hole that was his chest, a crater that once held life. Then, his skull shattered as another bullet pierced his brain, slicing up soft, giving tissue with force alone. He mouthed the name of the girl once, the beginning of what may have been 'Clarissa, run' but never quite made it that far.

Clarissa woke to the sound of music, loud and encompassing, encouraging all who listened to fall into the trance of beat and flow and never awaken again. She shivered in a fear she could not understand. The darkness gave no caution to the hands that wrapped around her neck. She tried to scream, but could not inhale to let out her yell. Her wide eyes stared into tired ones, of a boy who looked like he had not slept in years. His face was comically framed by huge disks on each side of his head, his jaw slack and tongue lolling out, giving the impression of some kind of doggy smile.

But so much worse.

The world glinted silver with the metal on the assaulter's head and white with teeth and saliva's reflection of light. The last thing Clarissa felt was the music.

The boy let go as soon as the girl fell into unconsciousness, just as was ordered. He did not bother to check if the man he killed was really dead, that was not his concern. The ghostly voice that cut through the beats of his music spoke again, demanding even more vengeance, and to use the girl to embark even more suffering on the world. He nodded to the darkness and picked up the girl, sneaking outwards and to the nearby party as directed. They all would pay, and then maybe he could get some peace to his music. Something told him he would be pulling yet another all nighter tonight.

Greg heard gunfire and a scuffle. His casual pace back to check up on his cop friend quickened to a pace. By the time he arrived he was too late by far too long. Willow was bathing in his own blood, Clarissa was gone, and there were no signs of life. His eyes narrowed. Spanky. The cop turned and began to dash his way back.