Murmurs

[SoreArms]

The room was a dark like that of dusk, the curtains over both windows shut, the door half open allowing some of the glow from outside bulbs to seep in, the rest of the gloomy light provided by candles. The air smelled of old, of stuffy, of sorrow, of death. An old woman sat in the middle of the room, in front of the casket, with rosary beads in her hand, murmuring prayers to herself. To her left was the mother, loudly sobbing, intermittently looking up towards the ceeling asking "why?" The father, with his wifes face and tears burried onto his shoulder stood tall and calm, solemn face and teary eyed, with the occasional tear trickling down his cheek. To the right were both grand mothers, vails over their heads, murmuring along with the old lady in the middle. Frank, stood in the back of the room smoking a cigarette, taking the picture in desperately trying to feel some sort of pain or simpathy. He's always been callous and indifferent about death, I guess because no one close to him has died yet. No one that matters, anyways.

 

[Whiskey]

And then the lone man let out a small fart that was strong enough to kill even the strongest of poison resistant plants.

Whiskey

 

[big_bad_buff]

suddenly the casket began to shake violently, the lights started to flicker. the older women startled, wondered what was happening to her beloved, then suddenly, she realized that not only was the casket shaking, it was the whole room. HOLY SHIT!! frank screemed as he puffed on his cigarette, there is a....

 

[SoreArms]

suddenly the casket began to shake violently, the lights started to flicker. the older women startled, wondered what was happening to her beloved, then suddenly, she realized that not only was the casket shaking, it was the whole room. HOLY SHIT!! frank screemed as he puffed on his cigarette, there is a....

nicely done

 

[jack sparrow]

The room was a dark like that of dusk, the curtains over both windows shut, the door half open allowing some of the glow from outside bulbs to seep in, the rest of the gloomy light provided by candles. The air smelled of old, of stuffy, of sorrow, of death. An old woman sat in the middle of the room, in front of the casket, with rosary beads in her hand, murmuring prayers to herself. To her left was the mother, loudly sobbing, intermittently looking up towards the ceeling asking "why?" The father, with his wifes face and tears burried onto his shoulder stood tall and calm, solemn face and teary eyed, with the occasional tear trickling down his cheek. To the right were both grand mothers, vails over their heads, murmuring along with the old lady in the middle. Frank, stood in the back of the room smoking a cigarette, taking the picture in desperately trying to feel some sort of pain or simpathy. He's always been callous and indifferent about death, I guess because no one close to him has died yet. No one that matters, anyways.

Franks thoughts soon drifted to Evelyn. She was hysterical when she told him the story of what really happened that night. In his line of work, he had seen everything from $10 whores to high end bribery, but never cold blooded killers like this. His thoughts drifted to Evelyns story again. Desperately trying to put the pieces of her story together with the facts was going to be difficult, he thought to himself. Frank stepped outside to get some fresh air...he flicked his cigarette butt into a puddle of fresh rainwater and watched as the orange glow faded to a dismal black. The sound of the rain drops on his black leather over coat never sounded more depressing to him than at this very moment. The sky never looked so gray, and Frank Canon, for the first time in 23 years of being a Detective, feared for his life...

 

[SoreArms]

Franks thoughts soon drifted to Evelyn. She was hysterical when she told him the story of what really happened that night. In his line of work, he had seen everything from $10 whores to high end bribery, but never cold blooded killers like this. His thoughts drifted to Evelyns story again. Desperately trying to put the pieces of her story together with the facts was going to be difficult, he thought to himself. Frank stepped outside to get some fresh air...he flicked his cigarette butt into a puddle of fresh rainwater and watched as the orange glow faded to a dismal black. The sound of the rain drops on his black leather over coat never sounded more depressing to him than at this very moment. The sky never looked so gray, and Frank Canon, for the first time in 23 years of being a Detective, feared for his life...

yes, I dig it!

 

[jack sparrow]

yes, I dig it!

Shall I dream up the next page?