Creative Writing: The Red Death

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

Back in the main level of the factory, Wolf and Fox find Hawk lying on the ground, pale and unresponsive, his bulletproof vest next to him and the edges of a red stain showing around a wad of gauze. A soldier that Fox assumes is N-Unit's medic kneels next to him, along with Snake and Coyote. The three medics are talking frantically among themselves. The rest of N-Unit hovers nervously nearby; the rest of H-Unit is nowhere to be seen. Dust particles dance through the beams of sunlight from the holes where windows used to be, giving the whole scene a strangely dreamy air.

“Yes I am dad.” Kevin screaming at the top of his lungs,” Mr.Cromwell needs to go!” While Howie and Kevin argued ,Cromwell was over there eating Kevin’s breakfast, waffles. It was too late, Howie and Kevin turned around ,the waffles were gone.Kevin and Howie went straight over to doggy daycare. Cromwell had stayed 1 hour knowing he wanted to leave.

Whoever that is, was it so obvious that she was torn? Dizzy wondered if it was just Fallen that might notice or if she were wearing some damned sign or something. Maybe it was a guess, or nothing at all, Dizzy had no idea but she didn't want to dwell on it. Not when she had something that actually made her happy right in front of her. "Well anyone after any part of you will have to go through me." she spoke with a real amount of censarity in her words before a shiver ran down her spine.

At midnight a new guest appears, dressed more eerily than the rest of the guests. His mask looks like the face of a corpse, he is wearing a funeral shroud, and his face has spots of blood like the victims of the Red Death. Prospero gets mad that someone would be so audacious as to mock him like that. The other guests are so scared that they don't stop the new guest and allow him to walk all the way to the black room. Prospero finally catches up to the new guest in the black room. As soon as he confronts the new guest, Prospero dies. Everyone else is so surprised, and now mad, that they rush in to attack the figure, but when they get to it there is nothing but a pile of clothes and a mask. They all die of the Red Death (Poe 388). "And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all" (Poe 390).

Wes was exhausted. It was Monday morning, an no amount of coffee could help him at this point, he was a lost cause. He had gotten about half an hour of sleep the night before while doing more ghost research. He had only slept at all because he tripped over a few art supplies left over from when he was making his charts, and decided that the floor was somewhat comfortable and it was worth too much effort to get up. His father found him in the morning, choosing to ignore the creepy pictures of both Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom tacked to the wall. Thankfully, all Walter said was to clean his room as soon as possible, because frankly, his room was a complete mess. Everything from sharpies and bottles of superglue to cassette tapes about ghosts

last blood city at night the alarm goes off and there scream and shout everywhere inside the city and all the new-human began hunting for monsters, relics, and the zombies that got inside the city.

Whatever remained was usurped by Pandora’s gravitational pull. The remnants of smashed shrapnel circled aimlessly about in the soundless vacuum called space, occasionally making impact with its bigger counterparts. The resulting explosion was soundless, like watching a black and white silent film on the big screen. If sound was present, it would have been enough to rest Jack from his death throes, but something else beat the jettisoned space junk to the punch. In his dreams he likened it to a wraith; the omnipresent shadow of a woman lurching over his corpse when all he could see were geysers of red erupting around him. After escaping with the starmap, Lillith, Roland and the other vault hunters left Jack for dead. With the Destroyer subdued

A masked man, one dressed as a corpse who died of the Red Death made an appearance at the party. The guests became terrified, and their quiet murmur had got the attention of Prince Prospero. The Prince is infuriated by this unknown guests disrespect towards him and his people. But, despite the orders to seize him, the guards were too frightened. The masquerader parades throughout the rooms mocking the Prince. Among reaching the black room, Prospero lost his sanity and ran after him, drawing his dagger in rage. Upon the edge of the Black Room, the masked figure turns around to face him, and Prospero falls to the ground,

“AAH, I must have overslept!” The Hero rushed towards the window, and he saw that Monster Zero must have been busy for at least a few hours. He gathered all his weapons, and ran towards Monster Zero, somewhere where he could not be seen. “Alright, all monsters have a weak point, so where could it be……..aha! Monster Zero’s neck isn’t covered by any scales, so I must attack there!”

A couple of hours later I walked the trail towards the village jail, in hopes to see Jason. On rehash, he was one of the uppermost honest and friendly folks on the island, and the best shot as well. Though I always considered myself one of the best at spearfishing, Jason was better, and a steadier aim; he literally never missed a shot. His interests and passions had always been so forthright and reliable that in societal context, he took in everyone’s trust for granted. And, as it turned up, Duende resembled him in personality, although she exhibited the unworldliness befitting of a native who never left the islands. Unlike Jason, who was in the islands on vacation from the U.S., and had both his parents alive as well as siblings, Duende never

The first time I saw her she was perched on my chair at New Westview High in the English 11 classroom and was twirling a luxurious pair of earbuds around her elegant and slender fingers wrapping them around like whips. Lethal. Pestilent. Yet still there was something about her that was bewitching. She screamed anguished closures and shredded promises. Back then I just had a feeling. One of those nauseating, petrifying feelings but almost addictive when I went near her. She had these black and red beats that were colossal compared to her meagre face but she didn't seem to mind. They kept slipping off her sleek, smooth hair. Why would she have earbuds and headphones? Like what an idiot. Her fingers and feet tapped out the rhythm on the floor.

I was taken up, put in a chair at the side, and told to keep my mouth shut by the teacher, who

“It most certainly is not,” retorted Phillie. “Freddie is that terrible man from those awful movies made years ago. The man who would attack children in their sleep.”

The bar had an upbeat vibe to it. It wasn’t the high end bar where you could pay to get your ass kissed and your feet rubbed, but at least you didn’t have to worry about walking outside and getting robbed or stabbed on your way home. It was a fairly unremarkable place, a plain black building, a neon sign outside the only hint to the place being able to serve alcohol. Most meandered around, drinking and talking, with the occasional dance when a rather catchy song found it’s way onto the less than stellar sound system.