Necromancer G Posted November 10, 2008 Share Posted November 10, 2008 What is the darker half of your self like...the side no one has seen....describe it to the fullest. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
exanimis Posted November 10, 2008 Share Posted November 10, 2008 A passenger airplane crashes into the side of a mountain and the survivors are stranded with no way to get off the mountain. Food supplies soon run low and they begin to starve. As each one dies the remaining passengers begin burring the dead in the snow outside. After weeks of starving the survivors bring up the possibility of eating the dead. Straws are drawn and the one who draws the shortest straw is sent out to extract their pound of flesh from the dead. He exits the shelter to find me standing there in an apron over a grill, asking , Who wants medium rare? How's that? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Necromancer G Posted November 10, 2008 Author Share Posted November 10, 2008 very nice, the darker side of you is a cannibal. EXCELLENT Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
exanimis Posted November 10, 2008 Share Posted November 10, 2008 No the darker side of me is a realist. I believe in doing what is necessary and or inevitable even if others don't like it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Necromancer G Posted November 10, 2008 Author Share Posted November 10, 2008 even better..kill or be killed Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lisnpuppy Posted November 10, 2008 Share Posted November 10, 2008 How about a dark side that doesnt care if the sun rises or not. That looks at others with contempt and arrogance. That thinks most people should be forcably "fixed" so they can not spread thier stupid genes further along? That thinks you should get to be able to give one good arse-whipping in your life completely free of punishment? :) That isnt me of course..I am sweetness and light. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
exanimis Posted November 10, 2008 Share Posted November 10, 2008 How about a dark side that doesnt care if the sun rises or not. That looks at others with contempt and arrogance. That thinks most people should be forcably "fixed" so they can not spread thier stupid genes further along? That thinks you should get to be able to give one good arse-whipping in your life completely free of punishment? :) Thank isnt me of course..I am sweetness and light. Wait, is that a dark side? I thought that was normal for everyone Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
exanimis Posted November 10, 2008 Share Posted November 10, 2008 Actually, here is something I wrote a while ago about depression that better describes a dark side The Dark My world faded to nothingness. Sights, sounds scents and touch vanished into blackness. I begin to awaken, fuzzy, out of focus thoughts creep into my mind. Tiny slivers of broken glass caught in time and space as the window of my mind struggled to repair itself. I take a deep breath. What was that, that strange sensation? Stale, thin air surrounded me. The sound of something scraping on metal, loud and accompanied with an almost rhythmic thump, like a heartbeat slowing and getting weaker with each beat. I stirred, just my foot but I felt it move and I was suddenly aware that I had a body. I open my eyes. My eyelids feel heavy and gritty, they scratch over my eyes but I can see nothing. Have I always been blind? I feel my thoughts as they begin to focus and I realize that I am lying on the floor. I am on my back and the floor is uncomfortable. How long have I been here? What happened? I try to lift my hand but it doesn't move. I feel heavy, as if my body had become too dense for my muscles to control. I am so relaxed. I feel like I have just had the best night's sleep of my life. I have felt this before. Yes, now I remember, I had had a test done at the hospital. I remember how good I felt waking up in the recovery room. Have I had another test? I don't remember. I try to move my hand again and this time it moves but I can only manage to raise it from my side and bring it to rest on my waist. I want to go back to sleep but I am waking up. Does the air around me feels hot, or is it me? I think I am awake now but why can't I see anything? Something like tiny grains of sand hit my face and I reach up to brush them away but my hand hits something hard and solid. What is that? Have I somehow gotten under my coffee table? I need to get up and turn on a light. I can't see poo! I lift both hands now. I need to find something to grab to pull myself out from under the table. My elbows move outward, away from my body and thump against the same hard surface on either side. What the hell is this? I try to move, to turn over but my knees hit the same walls. What the vulk is this? I am surrounded with walls. poo! I'm in some kind of a box. What the hell am I doing in a box? Is this some kind of joke? How did I get in here? Waite! I remember something. Something, no someone sneaking up behind me, covering my mouth and nose with a rag. It was awful, a sickeningly sweet smell and then nothing. The sand hits my face again and I shiver. The scraping metal, the rhythmic thump. Oh my God! I've been buried alive! I try to move but the box surrounds me. I writhe and squirm, twisting my body so that my arms can move. I feel the surface of the box. My fingers searching the wooden panels and corners for something, anything that might help me get out. The air is stale and getting thinner with every breath. My heart is beating faster and my breaths are short but deep. I scream. Let me out! Somebody open this *ban* box! Alright, this isn't funny, open this goddamned box! There is no answer. I struggle again, positioning both hand and both knees so that I can push against the lid. I grit my teeth and push with every ounce of strength in me. Nothing happens, the lid doesn't move. Open this *ban* box! The words seem unusually loud inside this confinement. Dear God, somebody help me. My breaths are getting longer and deeper as I struggle for each breath of the stagnant air. I can almost taste the dust and dirt in this coffin. My heart is pounding in my ears. Sweat trickles down the right side of my forehead and into my eye. It burns. Oh God please, please help me. The words sound so meaningful and heartfelt but weaker than before. I have to conserve my energy; I have to calm down so that the air will last longer. I try to relax but my whole body is shaking. Every nerve is vibrating. It's getting harder to breath. Am I really going to die here? My mother, my family, will they even know? Will they ever know? There is so much I wanted to do. So many things I wanted to say. Why didn't I say them? Why was it so hard to say I love you? God please help me. What was that? That sound? I hold my breath and turn my head, turning my ear to the lid of my coffin. Was there a sound? Is my mind tricking me into believing that help is on the way? I can't hold my breath any longer and I let it out, taking another long hard breath and holding it so that I can listen. There it is again! What is it? A shovel, yes a shovel. Someone has found me. I'm in here! Help! I'm still alive, I'm in here. Each word is strained, my voice cracks with the lack of oxygen. My throat hurts, it's so dry. I'm here, I'm here, Help me, I'm here. The sound of the shovel gets louder and louder. Thank you lord, thank you, you won't regret this. I'll be the best person I can be, you'll see. I hear it hit the lid. Thank you Jesus! A few more hits of the shovel and then I hear the shovel being dragged across the lid. I'm still here, I'm still alive! There is only a whisper now. All the oxygen is gone. My head swirls on the verge of blackness. I head a thump; someone has dropped down on top of me. I can hear them brushing away the dirt with their hands. Hurry, hurry, I'm here, I'm still alive. Another thump and I know that someone has jammed a pry bar under the lid. Thank you God! The lid creeks, the nails scream out a long, beautiful song and the cold night air floods the inside of the box. My mouth opens wide; my chest heaves forward as the fresh air fills my lungs. The lid of the coffin swings wide and I sit up gasping for air. My head begins to clear. The shadow of my savior stands close by lighted against the night sky by a single lantern setting on the edge of the hole behind him. I try to speak but my breaths are in great gulps and the words are hard to form. I try again as thoughts of Thank you; Thank God you got here in time, race through my mind. There are so many things I want to say to this guardian angel, this saint who I will never forget his great lifesaving effort in freeing me from this underground death sentence. I gain enough strength to speak. Thank you, the words exit my lips as I turn to get a better look at the man who has saved my life. I see his figure straighten and he reaches over to the side of the hole for the shovel. I try to get up but I am too weak. Thank you so much I say again as I turn to face him. The flat shovel hits me hard in the face. My world faded to nothingness. Sights, sounds scents and touch vanished into blackness. I begin to awaken, fuzzy, out of focus thoughts creep into my mind. Tiny slivers of broken glass caught in time and space as the window of my mind struggled to repair itself. I take a deep breath. What was that, that strange sensation? Stale, thin air surrounded me. The sound of something scraping on metal, loud and accompanied with an almost rhythmic thump, like a heartbeat slowing and getting weaker with each beat. That shadowed man was no saint, no angel of mercy. He was my murderer. A killer so intent of enjoying the kill that he had to dig me up. He had to make my death more pleasurable for himself and more painful and drawn out to me. I lay there on the hard wooden bottom of the box. My nose and mouth pouring blood that runs lightning streaks along my cheeks. I don't bother to wipe the blood away. I don't struggle against the lid of my coffin. My heartbeat is calm. My breath is slow and easy, even as the air grown dank and thin. There is no one coming. Nobody is going to save me. To struggle only means that death will grasp my heart sooner and crush it like a drunk crushes an empty beer can. The only person who will open this box is my murderer and only so that he can get some perverse pleasure from watching me suffer. My body relaxes and I wait, praying that death will find me soon. Praying that he will come quick and end this nightmare. Hope is dead Hope has abandoned me Pain, suffering and death are all that remain. My three evil companions who urge me to find a way to end my life before my time. I close my eyes and strain for each breath, wishing I could end it myself. Wishing I could hurry death along his path. The end Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gamerbird Posted November 10, 2008 Share Posted November 10, 2008 I have no dark side.I am pure darkness. I can't really describe it though.If I think of a way I will post it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
humanbean234 Posted November 10, 2008 Share Posted November 10, 2008 The "Dark Side of My Soul" is directly linked to my blood-sugar level and the amount of sleep I've gotten in the previous 48 hours.Normally I'm a real sweetheart, but keep me awake too long and make me go without my breakfast and morning coffee, and I'll not-only give you a motrin for a gunshot wound, I'll poke my finger around in it and ask "Does that hurt? Does that hurt?" Thankfully, they've learned to keep me well-fed, here in my unit. :yes: Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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