Warrior Cats: The Four Clans

Yea, since I don't have a big area where I can just throw all my crud I made, I'll just throw it here.

I had made a poem, it was called Laughing Gas. Everyone on DeviantART says it's creepy and sad. SOmeone said it was gripping. :3

Oh and other crud that doesn't make sense will be put up. You can usually find them on here, the first page and post.

Laughing Gas:

A  childhood friend
A soft sweet girl
A tired boy
You used to smile.


We meet twice a week
We are friends
Can't we be
...more?


A year a passed
You shouldn't have been in that accident
Now you don't laugh
Why don't you smile anymore?


Your mom is gone
Your dad is away
Why are you crying?
What did I do wrong?


You look down to me
You are smiling!
But why are your eyes sad?



You place your hand on my shoulder
Then walk away
You make me feel happy
Why can't I do the same for you?


Years pass
Who is that girl?
Why is she holding your hand?
She is laughing
You are smiling
Why aren't you smiling at me?


Surely she can't make you happy
The looks you give her
Aren't the same as the ones
You give me


A month passes
That girl went missing
She's gone without a trace
The police look for her
But they won't ever find her
Why are you crying?


You look at me
You are smiling once more!
But why are your eyes in pain?


Nobody will ever
have the same look
That you give me
Ever


Another year passes
We are finally together
The ring glimmers
But why are you so sad?
You haven't laughed for years


Your job keeps you up late
I'm all alone
Why don't you come home
To me?


You've been laid off
From your work
They shouldn't have done that
Make you sad


You look at me
Your smile,
It's weak and painful
But you are smiling!
Why are your eyes tired?


Your hair
It has some silver
You are only twenty-five
You shouldn't be stressed
You know I love you
But you don't laugh


You're in your room
What's that in your hand?
What are you doing with that
Picture of your mother?
Why are you crying?


A month has passed
I've tried to make you laugh
But you are getting angry at me
Why do you squeeze my hand so hard?
What did I do?


I've stopped you from going to work
So you can be with me
But you are frustrated


I've found a way to make you laugh
So you won't be angry
So you won't be tired
Or in pain
Or sad


A month passes
You are in your room
You just stare at the wall
Why do you stare?
Why do you always hold
That knife?
I know how to make you happy


I have laughing gas
You can be happy once again
And you can smile once more


I've filled your room with the gas
I've stuffed the openings of the door with towels
And closed the vents
You will be happy once more


Minutes pass
I hear you
You are laughing!
But why are you beating the door?
Why are you stabbing the door?


Your laughter
It hasn't stopped
It's scaring me
Why are you still laughing?


The door breaks open
Your smile
Your smile!
Why are you smiling that way?
Why are you laughing that way?
Why are you still laughing?


Why are you coming closer?
What are you doing with that knife?
You are finally smiling!
You are finally laughing!
But why are your eyes filled with madness?

More crud will come. Soon. Very soon. When I am not lazy enough to put them up. XD

EDIT;

Yaaa more stuff! Here's a piece of my little poem prose series. The pice si called, Servant of the Toy  Maker.

Servant of the Toy Maker

Have I been forgotten?
How long?
How long in the darkness?
It's the end for me?
When? Where? How?


Darkness? Enveloping... me?
Can I remember nothing?
Time has passed.
How much?
The darkness is so cold.
I'm hurting.
But I am so numb.
The warmth is so sickly sweet.
Sick.

Words are fading.
What does fading mean?
More time has passed.
I still don't know how much.
Does no one answer?


I've forgotten, and have been forgotten.
What were their names?
The names of the children?
What are children?
What is my name?
What am I?


My eyes are gone.
I cannot see.
But I could not see in the darkness in the first place.
Heh.
Heh.

Heh...


My heart has started to beat.
A resonating sound had filled the darkness.
My eyes open.
There is light!
A ticking clock presents a continuous beat.
My heart and the clock fuse together,
Beat and tick; dark and light.


The shadows scatter.
The sound is louder.
I can hear words.
What is that you are saying?
"Thomas? Thomas!"
Who is this? Who is Thomas?
My mouth moves to repeat the name.
But I cannot speak that name.
No words have formed.
Only emptiness.


The void has torn.
I see a face.
Is this my Master?
No.
This isn't my Master.
This is...
Who is this?


There is pain in my body as I wake.
Have I regained control of that which I have lost?
What about my name?
Thomas?
No.
Not yet. That's not my name yet.
Servant?
Yes.
That is my name.
That is what I am.

I am the Servant of the Toy Maker.

Hey everyone I'm not dead, so here's a little tiny snipit of something:

The repetitive tapping sound resonated around the room as Horatio's fingernail clacked in the windowsill. With his other hand, he brushed back his black bangs and curled them behind his ear. He had dusted and vacuumed his house all day, and he was well worn from the work. As he looked outside, a scowl appeared on his face. How he detested and feared the outdoors. He was an agoraphobe since he was little. Horatio turned back and looked at the grandfather clock; it was almost twelve. "Noon." He spoke, his voice almost as frail and soft as his younger brother Aster, save for that Horatio had a small huskiness to his tone. There wasn't much Horatio did. He cleaned very well, and he ran an online book series which had a large fandom. Mostly young teenage girls loved his books. Little did the world know, that his books were based on his brother. The "soft spoken young man, yet the most heartless and cold blooded serial killer" gig sold, surprisingly. Horatio stood at the window still, for his own mind and body were at conflict at what to do next. His dark green eyes shifted from the window, to the clock, then back to the window. A small moan erupted from his lips, but he quickly stifled whatever groan he had made, for he had noticed something odd. Horatio leaned in closer to look out the window, and noticed someone breaking out of the backdoor of the neighboring house. "Is that... Jason?" Confusion welled up within himself. As Horatio squinted to see through the window of the house, he noticed something looking like smoke filling the house. It took many moments to realize, but by the time he figured it out, all was lost. In one moment, Horatio heard a loud noise that rang through his ears, louder than anything he had ever before in his life. The next moment; silence. Sharp pains littered his body as he found himself lying on the floor next to a wall. The wall had a trail of blood that ran down to himself, of which he was sure he cracked his head on. A high pitched ringing whined in his ears as he looked around. The side of his house was blown out, and the neighboring house was a pile of debris. There wasn't an inch of him that didn't pulse with excruciating pain. Horatio tried to lift his arms to try to pick at something that was on his face. Slowly his arm reached it's target, and then his eyes widened as he realized exactly what it was. A fragment of glass was stuck in his cheek, close to the bottom of his jaw. His arm went limp and hit the floor as his vision began to blur, then fade as he could faintly hear sirens blare in the background. Slowly the pain numbed down to a dull throb, as darkness enwrapped his sights.
The blackness began to elapse, and wavered it did. Eyes opening, slightly, only slightly. Horatio shifted in what he found was a hospital bed. There was something on his face, tubing that connected into his nose. It took him only moments before his grogginess vanished as the memory of the explosion flooded into his mind. He then let out a loud yell of sheer terror. Quickly he sat up, and a pain shot up his spine.
"Whoa! whoa! Slow down!" A voice shouted from the corner of the room. It was feminine, Horatio guessed a woman in her late twenties, early thirties, if not barely thirty.
Horatio covered his mouth to stifle his cry, and slowly his scream lessened to a small groan. He then placed his hand down on his lap and looked over to the woman. Next to her was a man, late forties, already the hair on his head was thinning. Horatio scoffed at the man. Both the woman and the man were in suits, black ones at that. Feds. Horatio thought, a scowl on his face. "I don't know-" He paused as he found his voice hoarse and strained, as if it weren't used in a long time. He touched his throat, then looked back at them. "I don't know where Aster is, he wasn't with me with the explosion happened, but that crazy head, that nutcase Jason rigged a bomb in the other house, maybe expecting that Aster would be with me." Horatio had to dodge contact with any law enforcement back when Aster was hiding with him. Something about skinning women alive didn't exactly please them.  
"Horatio." The man sighed, giving Horatio a frown. This worried Horatio. "I don't know how to tell you this..."
"What? Has my brother been caught finally? Tried in court? Sentenced to jail for life? What? Did Jason kill him?" Horatio snapped.
"Jason's dead, 'boy. He's been six feet under for three years." The man looked over to his female partner and she looked back at him frowning.
Horatio looked at the man in slight confusion, then a look of horror changed his scowl at the prospect of what he had figured out. "That means... I've..."
"Coma for three years, yes." The female partner spoke up, holding up three fingers to demonstrate. It appeared to Horatio that this woman was a 'no nonsense' type of girl.
Horatio tried to raise himself out of bed after yanking out the tube. He stumbled as he stood out of bed, in a hospital gown. He scratched the small stubble that grew on his chin and looked over to the two agents. "Well? Stop gawking and get someone to discharge me so I can go." He growled at them.
As Horatio walked down the hall and into the lobby of the hospital, the agents behind him, he now noticed that the the scars under his eyes had healed properly. It was odd, because they had been there slightly festering for most of his life. He had been given a pair of newer clothes, since his were tattered and unwearable from the explosion that apparently was three years ago. He was wearing a black overcoat, with a leather jacket buttoned up underneath and under the jacket was a pain white dress shirt. He wore thick, dark blue jeans and thick soled leather boots. Soon the three had gotten to the automatic sliding doors. The female agent stopped for a moment and look at Horatio with slight concern. Horatio looked back at her as he stepped outside, then turned around and tilted his head to the side. "What?" he frowned.
"You. Your profile said that you had an immense fear of the outside, to the point of a traumatized panic attack." The woman stared back at with a puzzled stare.
Horatio blinked. "I did?" He said, then looked back at the sky. "I don't think so. When did I ever have that? That's a stupid fear." Horatio continued on with the male agent following behind.
The female agent stood still for a moment, then followed after.

-- Edited by Ivoryclaw on Wednesday 28th of December 2011 04:06:40 AM