"Being a good writer is 3% talent, 97% not being distracted by the internet." Cyrus Farivar

Monday, April 18, 2011


This is a character I really want to write more about/for. He holds a special spot in my heart because he's quite different than most characters/muses that live in my head. Somewhat of a villain, he's mostly tortured by his mind. I think this is the perfect place to explore more about him. Once again, another character created for a roleplay with Craie and our buddy Hells.

            The clock ticked next to him as his eyes focused on the hands vibrating ever so slightly. He could care less about the time. In fact, he wouldn't have noticed if the timepiece danced about singing the time while holding a plate of bacon. At this moment, the house was silent. Normal people were sleeping and relaxing to their sweet dreams. All he could do was move about his room. Insomnia has plagued him for years and had a knack for choosing when he should remain awake. Shifting on the sheets, he lay on his stomach with his feet at the head. Eying his desk, he debated whether to venture the few feet of carpet to lounge in the swivel chair. But not liking that idea, he turned and moved his attention on the bookcase. One hand twitched at the thought of reorganizing the tomes. Devan had spent countless nights arranging the books. He'd collected so many over the years they were overflowing the shelves and had since taken up the spare room in his closet and under the bed.
             In the thousands of times he'd sorted the books, he had it timed exactly how long it takes to move them all. Shaking his head slightly at the thought, he sat up. There was nothing in his room that seemed remotely interesting to do at such a late hour of the night. Outside his room, he could do anything within the townhouse. He'd deduced there were too many loud noises beyond the walls of the home he lived in. All the sounds were too much to handle. Any loud bang, clap or boom brought up thoughts he wasn't sure were his.
             He could hear a woman begging, crying out for mercy; he reached the door as she kept speaking much too quickly for him to catch all of it. In moments he was down the stairs, peering into the living room. She was shoved into the adjacent wall with a thud. As she continued to grovel it only took moments for the darkened figure to raise a blurry hand. His head jerked as a loud boom brought him from his thoughts. Looking around the space he tried to remember how he got there and where the woman and mysterious figure were. They had disappeared somewhere. With his mind racing he saw the family photos of Tommy, Mr. and Mrs. Walsh and himself hanging on the wall. He couldn't recall ever taking such things. Reaching over he touched his smiling face and frowned at how dissimilar he was to the other three in the frame.
             Examining the room, he nodded slightly as he saw it was the living room to the townhouse. Some lights flashed outdoors in an eerie wash of orange and yellow. The garbage man, he thought, putting his hand where the lights were currently being reflected on the wall. He'd seen a similar flash before. Or at least someone had. Splashes of red and blue, yelling, people running and a heat worse than lying in the sun. A moment passed before he heard something move within the house. Someone was awake.
             Dropping his hand he shuffled back down the hallway to the stairs. Staying at the bottom, he listened intently. The last person he wanted to run into was her. One way or another she would grumble about him being awake to Tommy. Nothing would be gained by her complaints. After all, she was starting to occupy the space he had called home. Now he had to relent to her. All he had left was his room; his territory that he felt she caged him in just by her presence. She probably thought she was hiding it but he knew when she was sending a glare his way. He always knew. For the longest time it had been just the two of them; Tommy and Devan. It was obvious they didn't get along; that she didn't trust him. Keeping to his room was the only way to stay out from under her watchful eye.

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