Post by konata on Nov 27, 2011 1:29:27 GMT -5
(OOC: Uh... the last RP I was participating in kinda... stopped... so I decided to try my hand at starting a thread of my own. It's my first time at this, so it probably won't be anywhere near perfect ( ), but any ways to improve will be much appreciated! ;D)
It was the first time Seth had dreamed in a long time. A longer time than he could imagine, and the dream he had dreamed was a strange one indeed. He didn't remember much of it. Just a girl with curly red hair. She whispered "I'm sorry" so many times, but when he opened his mouth to speak, no words would come out. The girl burst into tears and became more and more frantic, but he still could not find a way to say what he wanted to.
Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault, it was mine. Seth thought, even though he really didn't even know who he was talking to anymore. It simply felt like the right thing to say. Still crying, the girl slowly disappeared, and though he tried to reach out and make her stay, he could not move. Even though he couldn't understand the reason why, by the end of his dream, he was crying with as much pain and intensity as she once was.
When he woke up, he was lying flat on the hard concrete, and his forehead ached. He lifted up a hand to his head and found a healing, but still bloody bullet hole in his forehead. The skull underneath had reformed itself, and because of this Seth reasoned it must have been a few hours ago that he was shot.
He forced himself to sit up, leaning against the wall for support, feeling a stabbing pain in his stomach. From there he could tell that this was an alley he had been in when he fell asleep. He was hoping to get up to some rooftops and look for something interesting to do, but evidently that didn't happen. No one had noticed him there, because if they had he would have woken up on an autopsy table (again), so clearly this place wasn't inhabited by anyone.
Whoever did this planned it so I wouldn't be found. He thought. There wasn't any other option. He certainly didn't remember killing himself, and he went out of his way to look so poor that no one would ever think he had something worth being mugged over. Yes, that was the most likely scenario, but who murdered him and why? He didn't think this was the work of some random person who didn't know him, especially not as he looked where his head had been lying.
Almost an entire round of bullets was sitting there, and several more lie under the place his stomach had been, all caked in dried blood. Whoever had killed him clearly wanted him really, really dead and didn't care if they made a scene. They must have already known that he wouldn't die from just a bullet wound to the head (or at least not stay dead long), so they did everything in their power to keep him down... but why? The only way he would find out would be to follow the trail, and the first start would be to match the bullets. He pulled a pair of gloves out of his blood-stained pocket and took a few of the bullet shells from the ground, placing them in his pocket.
With a sigh, Seth realized that this was altogether useless. He didn't have any forensic experience, and he didn't know anyone who did. Might as well hold onto these..... He thought. I might meet someone who could help someday, after all.
Then, right on cue, the faint silhouette of a person showed up at the edge of the alley. Seth pulled himself up onto his feet, ignoring the pain in his stomach.
"Identify yourself!" He demanded, quickly changing his mind. "Never mind, that's not important right now... I need a little help!"
It was the first time Seth had dreamed in a long time. A longer time than he could imagine, and the dream he had dreamed was a strange one indeed. He didn't remember much of it. Just a girl with curly red hair. She whispered "I'm sorry" so many times, but when he opened his mouth to speak, no words would come out. The girl burst into tears and became more and more frantic, but he still could not find a way to say what he wanted to.
Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault, it was mine. Seth thought, even though he really didn't even know who he was talking to anymore. It simply felt like the right thing to say. Still crying, the girl slowly disappeared, and though he tried to reach out and make her stay, he could not move. Even though he couldn't understand the reason why, by the end of his dream, he was crying with as much pain and intensity as she once was.
When he woke up, he was lying flat on the hard concrete, and his forehead ached. He lifted up a hand to his head and found a healing, but still bloody bullet hole in his forehead. The skull underneath had reformed itself, and because of this Seth reasoned it must have been a few hours ago that he was shot.
He forced himself to sit up, leaning against the wall for support, feeling a stabbing pain in his stomach. From there he could tell that this was an alley he had been in when he fell asleep. He was hoping to get up to some rooftops and look for something interesting to do, but evidently that didn't happen. No one had noticed him there, because if they had he would have woken up on an autopsy table (again), so clearly this place wasn't inhabited by anyone.
Whoever did this planned it so I wouldn't be found. He thought. There wasn't any other option. He certainly didn't remember killing himself, and he went out of his way to look so poor that no one would ever think he had something worth being mugged over. Yes, that was the most likely scenario, but who murdered him and why? He didn't think this was the work of some random person who didn't know him, especially not as he looked where his head had been lying.
Almost an entire round of bullets was sitting there, and several more lie under the place his stomach had been, all caked in dried blood. Whoever had killed him clearly wanted him really, really dead and didn't care if they made a scene. They must have already known that he wouldn't die from just a bullet wound to the head (or at least not stay dead long), so they did everything in their power to keep him down... but why? The only way he would find out would be to follow the trail, and the first start would be to match the bullets. He pulled a pair of gloves out of his blood-stained pocket and took a few of the bullet shells from the ground, placing them in his pocket.
With a sigh, Seth realized that this was altogether useless. He didn't have any forensic experience, and he didn't know anyone who did. Might as well hold onto these..... He thought. I might meet someone who could help someday, after all.
Then, right on cue, the faint silhouette of a person showed up at the edge of the alley. Seth pulled himself up onto his feet, ignoring the pain in his stomach.
"Identify yourself!" He demanded, quickly changing his mind. "Never mind, that's not important right now... I need a little help!"