Fly or Die
Apr 1, 2013 21:07:36 GMT -5
Post by Vinny on Apr 1, 2013 21:07:36 GMT -5
“Pride goeth before destruction,” a voice reverberates in black emptiness. In a faraway deep echo, a crow caws.
“And an arrogant spirit cometh before a fall,” the voice continues as the sound crows becomes louder. Closer. The blackness reveals itself to be that of a feather.
“A worthless man digs up evil,” the caws grow louder and the feather becomes a series of feathers.
“While his words are scorching fire,” the feathers become a black wing.
“A man of VIOLENCE,” the word echoes against a muted backdrop of caws, “entices his neighbor,”
“And leads him in a way that is... hmm... not good,” the wing becomes the flank of a crowd, with dark eyes staring ahead and dark talons resting on a black perch.
“An EVIL MAN listens to wicked lips;” the black perch becomes the shoulder of a man in a black denim jacket. The shoulder moves slightly with each word.
“A rebellious man man seeks only evil,” the crow pecks at a strand of dirty blond hair hanging over the shoulder of the speaking man. Dark shadows and strands of hair obscure the man's face, but his appearance and attire are that of Malcolm Drake.
“So a cruel messenger will be sent against him.” A low chuckling shakes the shoulder, causing the crow to reposition itself.
“The TERROR of a KING is like the growling of a lion; He who provokes him to anger... FORFEITS his own life,” the crow caws and flies off with an echoing flapping of its wings. Drake laughs and runs a hand up his face, pulling back the long, dirty strands of hair...
… to reveal not his face, but instead a skull where his face should be. The screen immediately snaps to black. And in the long silence of the blackness there is a flutter of wings. A caw. Then a second. Then a third.
“WE... are the Murder. You either fly with us, or you die without us.”
Drake's cackle reverberates and echoes until it fades away.
“And an arrogant spirit cometh before a fall,” the voice continues as the sound crows becomes louder. Closer. The blackness reveals itself to be that of a feather.
“A worthless man digs up evil,” the caws grow louder and the feather becomes a series of feathers.
“While his words are scorching fire,” the feathers become a black wing.
“A man of VIOLENCE,” the word echoes against a muted backdrop of caws, “entices his neighbor,”
“And leads him in a way that is... hmm... not good,” the wing becomes the flank of a crowd, with dark eyes staring ahead and dark talons resting on a black perch.
“An EVIL MAN listens to wicked lips;” the black perch becomes the shoulder of a man in a black denim jacket. The shoulder moves slightly with each word.
“A rebellious man man seeks only evil,” the crow pecks at a strand of dirty blond hair hanging over the shoulder of the speaking man. Dark shadows and strands of hair obscure the man's face, but his appearance and attire are that of Malcolm Drake.
“So a cruel messenger will be sent against him.” A low chuckling shakes the shoulder, causing the crow to reposition itself.
“The TERROR of a KING is like the growling of a lion; He who provokes him to anger... FORFEITS his own life,” the crow caws and flies off with an echoing flapping of its wings. Drake laughs and runs a hand up his face, pulling back the long, dirty strands of hair...
… to reveal not his face, but instead a skull where his face should be. The screen immediately snaps to black. And in the long silence of the blackness there is a flutter of wings. A caw. Then a second. Then a third.
“WE... are the Murder. You either fly with us, or you die without us.”
Drake's cackle reverberates and echoes until it fades away.