myOtaku.com: silver blade

myO Still <3's You

Vitals

Gender
• Female
Location
• Somewhere between my dreams, my mind, and Mercury.
Member Since
• 2006-03-30
Occupation
• Hopefully a writer, but mainly being cheerfully pessimisstic.
Real Name
• I am changing my real name to Rin, eventually.

Personal

Achievements
• Mock Trial Lawyer, little dinky school awards.
Anime Fan Since
• Fan since I knew what it was.
Favorite Anime
• So many... always Cowboy Bebop, but other than that it depends on when you ask me. List until space runs out: all Miyazaki movies, Outlaw Star, FLCL, FMA, Yu Yu Hakusho, RuroKen, ManKin, Naruto, GitS. All praise Kaori Yuki.
Goals
• To be a published writer, and world domination.
Hobbies
• The usual: anime, manga, writing, and video games. I like learning about pretty much anything. I especially love my Latin and English classes.
Talents
• I can sing the lyrics to many of the pillows songs, like Ride On Shooting Star and Last Dinosaur. I'm smart, I know many random facts, I can do good tribal tattoo designs, and my boredom inspires my saftey pin jewelry.

myOtaku.com: silver blade

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Story That Will Scare Away All of My Friends for Good
(I can't pick a good title for it, by the way.)
WARNING! May disturb your mind. It's not descriptive, but the subject matter in itself... Just... Yeah.

They’re sitting together under the shade of an oak. The sky filtered through the bright green leaves above them is pure blue, blue like his eyes when he doesn’t try to hide them. He runs fingers through her soft hair, and she curls into his side. No one else ever visits this park anymore. The swing sets are left empty, the slides have not seen use in a long while, and not even a jogger passes by. As it turns out, it’s pretty romantic. They are having a picnic in the park with no one else around.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, brushing a hand against her cheek and leaning down to capture her lips.

“Do you think we can stay like this? Together?” she asks gently.

His answer to her question is an indirect one. He takes a knife from his pocket. With care he carves their names into the tree along with the message “Together Forever,” then adds a heart around it. Then, with precision, he rips the blade into her chest and cuts out her heart.

The next morning brings a feeling of satisfaction as he reads the headline: “Sixth Victim of Carving Killer Found in Another Local Park.” He chuckles to himself over his coffee—three spoons of sugar, but no cream.

There’s a knock on the door, and he answers. It’s his neighbor, a pretty young woman around his age, maybe a bit older. She asks to borrow his phone. He lets her. As she’s about to leave, he offers an invitation.

“Would you like to have a picnic some time?”
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