Alright, this is some random shit I wrote for my Creative Arts class (holy fuck that was the worst class ever). It's only like 500 words, and it's mostly an exercise in set-up.
I liked it.
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I looked forward, ignoring the chill that ran through my soul as I did so. The cold did not halt in its aggravating ways, unceasingly licking at my bones as I squinted around the barren wasteland. It was not the most amusing way to begin a day, nor was it the most annoying way I had ever begun a day. That wondrous title belonged to the day I awoke in a pit of hellfire, surrounded by cackles of madness.
However, this was rather annoying. The unflinching cold tore through my coat like the harshest howl through the night, breaking the unending monotony of this wilderness with pointed marks of chills. I hated the cold – I truly, truly loathed it with every fiber my being. Even the harshest days of summer had no comparison to this bitter unending cold.
But it didn’t matter how much I complained, because I would continue through this deathly still landscape, coated with bone white misery and half-hearted shards, to face my enemy head on. He was a devil of a man, a loathsome caricature of a human. In all my years of knowing him, he did not have a shred of human compassion left in his shrunken, skeletal body. His utter lack of sympathy, of manners and of decency, brought me to a shudder, allowing yet another cold chill to run through my body. The wind sliced through me with the fury of a thousand blades – striking through to my very core, despite the coat that I had donned in order to prevent this very thing from occurring. But I did not falter, despite the cold, because my mind was filled with naught but a single goal.
To kill the demon that dwelled near this endless abyss of cold and misfortune.
I did not wish to do so. I had never wished to do so, and I had no reason to want to destroy the man who had been my mentor, at least not until recently. If he had not begun his… loathsome quest against humanity, I would have never had a reason. His utter lack of compassion merely added to his mystique, and he was my master at the time, so I refused to question even a single action he took. He was my entire world, and naught but a cataclysmic eruption of truth would cease my logic.
Unfortunately, I would not be freed from his devious clutches until much later in my life, long after he had sunk his claws into my beckoning and eager mind. It was not through any fault of my own, apart from my desperate need to learn, of course, but I suspect his claws have not left me, even to this day. The winds of yesterday stabbed me once more, desperately attempting to prevent my movements, stop me from reaching my goal.
I was not allowed to reach the castle, according to the winds. You may wonder how I knew this, considering that wind is something intangible, and therefore cannot speak. However, I may have something to confess to you. You see, my time under the tutelage of that man was not that of an average student, no, it was from it. The things that I learned under him were of a different make, ancient and powerful.
Under him I studied the “Artes of Magick”.
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It ended with his mentor being DAVID BLAINE
WHATATWIST
Oh yeah, I also write shit about ponies. You should totally check it out.
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