A bundle of noises, none of them pleasant except for the slow trickling noise of water running. A dark, daunting. Only one light source. Fire. Lots of paintings of people unknown or that were once alive. Blinds down, curtains closed. Various chairs scattered across the room. All broken, from different places. Some with legs missing , some with no cushions, one was rocking. How did they get there? The question wonders around the cracked, faded wall paper. The fire went out. The only smell in the room. Concrete floors freezing to death only one small rug in the center. Grey colored with dust and arab-looking. Once owned by a murderer. Still is filled with horrible memories. A lumpy mattress on the floor. No blankets. Cold. The night is slowly taking days place. The noise takes a rest. And silence creeps out into the haunted room. The only noise present is the scuffling of shoes. Depressing. Windows opened. Cold,chilling breeze. A drawer is opened. 2 knives. Both blunt but still stained with the colour of red earth. The colour of animal blood. A spider fingers out through his own trap. A gasp. A slam. The wind opens the door. More scuffling noises. A new room. More gloomy sounds. Glass shattering. Weeping, crying for help but no one’s there. Blood drops on the concrete floor. A cry.
The room is filled with discouriging thoughts. There are no lamps just a flashlight dying. It’s finally midnight, memories come out and are erased by anger and tears. Looking back at all those embarrassing childhood moments turned the room a darker shade of gloom. Slowly thinking caused a shooting pain up and down his right arm. Did anyone care? No. He had gotten used to the fact that having no family was the best thing that ever happened to him. No one ever paid any attention or shown any interest in him. Except for one girl. Amelia. She had brown, silky, fine hair and a broken heart. One day she had dissapeard. No one knew where she’d gone except him. Him, the anti-social, ignorant boy that everyone hates. Yet every time he thinks of her, his heart gets tron in a million little pieces and are unable to put back together. A jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. He slid across the creaking floors to reach the bathroom. It was full of pooled blood congealing and different shaped debris, too disgusting to describe. Like cactus’ spines slammed into his whole body was the feeling he went through everyday. Eating the equivelant of a pea caused him to be shriveled like a raisin. His skin brown and wrinkled and his limbs weak. The consequence of too many drugs hade made him barely able to walk upright dragging his filthy, muderer hands. Every day two tiny dangerous pills are swallowed into an empty desperate stomach causing more damage than any smoked cigarette. His mind had wandered somewhat over the years. This was able to explain his wrists criss-crossed with raised red wheals that itched as they stretched. No one knew he lived in the abandoned house that was known for Jennifer and David Granate’s mysterious murder. A pure marriage that was once emballent turned to be heavy-hearted.
Surrounded by a deserted forest with naked trees and a murky atmosphere was the state of his burrow. No neighbours surrounded him yet the loud, busy noise of New York City located a few miles away seemed to crowed the forest. He never came out during the day time. Always at night. He hated the noise and the commotion that a city makes but it was too late to move. Nobody knew he lived there and that he was living there against the law. Just him and his knife. Somehow he was able to get away with killing people to satisfy himself. It could be a matter of time before anyone found out about him but he wouldn’t care if they locked him up in jail. He would be miserable anyway. The few people that knew him faintly wondered why he doesn’t commit suicide. Its hard to say but in every dark corner there’s always a little spark of hope that if its lucky enough can overpower a great deal of evilness. Ocassionally he went out for walks where he looked back on his unsuccessful life while kicking stones until he hurt himself. Everyday was basically the same routine for him and became more boring as the time passed by. Except for tonight.
The door opened slowly and creaking like in a horror film. He walked out of his house and started walking through the forest to get to the quiet peaceful yet dangerous setting of New York city. Passing various neighbour hoods full of people that were up to no good , he starts to think of all the things he’s done wrong. The countless things he regrets doing but is imposible to change. Walks a little more and finds himself standing in front of a school. Starts to have flashback of all the happy childhood moments and comparing his life now. What went wrong? Starts to scuffle and feels stalked. Hears footsteps behind him and a hard breathing noise.
i havent finished it yet!!!!!! dont look at the spelling mistakes i know ther
you guys dont have to read all of it if you dont want to lol
just read the beginning
very good indeed~be proud,,,,,,,
Just so that there is a full game video of mine…
The Bevel-Jet is a complete software-controlled, multi-axis accessory permitting the flexibility to cut severe angles to a maximum of 60° off the vertical. The Bevel-Jet cuts countersunk holes and jigsaw puzzle-type pieces with beveled edges. The accessory supplies additional axes of motion, allowing the operator to fabricate and shape metal edges for weld preparation. For more information visit headland.com.au or industryexchange.com.au
How puzzle making machine works? here you could find the answer.We provide series of puzzle making machine including RH200, RH300, RH600, RH800, RH1000, RH1500, RH2100 etc. The puzzle dies are in the shape of standard, heart, round, oval and specail shapes, also custom designs are available. Please check www.puzzlemakingmachine.com for more reference. Thanks for your time.