Our Darkest Hour
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Nov 27, 2009, 12:41pm





Our Darkest Hour

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The most sexy handsome hunter in all the world, the one who drives old, shiny cars and listens to classic mulllet rock, digs the ladies and eats until he starves no more. No one does it better, no cares to do it better. If they even try to attempt to persuade otherwise, such as, making you believe a certain younger brother who is .. certainly taller, smarter -- and that has absolutely nothing to do with it, then they're probably lying. The Bitchy Administration The Hell God with a vengeance, definitely a force to be reckoned with. No amount of crying or fighting will save you when he wants his way because he is like a wall; no emotions, no mercy. Has a thing for breaking down doors to make an entrance, especially when it's done in a certain Hotel. Yep. You're gonna like that.

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Our Darkest Hour :: Hooray For A! :: The Darkest Episodes :: Far From Over
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 AuthorTopic: Far From Over (Read 661 times)
Dennis Pearson
Human
*****
Ghost Extraordinare[M:0]
member is offline

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Joined: Aug 2008
Gender: Male
Posts: 36
Karma: -8
 Re: Far From Over
« Reply #30 on Nov 2, 2009, 3:09pm »


[justify]

Everyone is in shock, including Dennis, the former ghost. He stares onward as if everything happening is only an illusion, formed by his own mind. The only difference, everyone else, that he cared to notice, is watching, too. The dark-haired woman slashes her dangerous weapon through one girl, sends two men into unconsciousness, and another falls to her death out of no where. The entire situation has numbed the sounds in his head; a solid white noise, much like static, numbs out the rest of the room. It is hard to concentrate on any one aspect; his eyes are unable to glance away from the red, red ruin as it stains and soaks into the carpet. Someone moved from beside him, and his eyes focus in on Cordelia as she kneels beside the injured woman. Dennis remembered helping her once before, quite a while ago when she was wounded after a fight.

Dennis exhaled a breath he never realized he held. It was only then the world swam around his vision, blurring at best. His body rocks forward, hands planted on the tops of his knees. It is not sickness, he feels, but almost as if his body had become disjointed. Invisible tendrils and strings have begun to tug upon his body, until it is covering him completely. Brows furrow curiously on his forehead, he is caught staring at the floor. The numbness continues to overwhelm every part of his body; senses, included. The pressure mounted across his shoulders, a crushing and blinding weight. Dennis parts his lips to draw in a sudden breath of air, and with a blink of the eyes, the world falls entirely away.

He tumbles into darkness, as if it were a mere blink of his own eyes. What he felt cannot be explained, only that it felt strange and recumbent. He could no longer hear anyone else, not even Cordelia’s cry for help. Then it all comes back, his eyes open, and instead of a room filled with people, he finds himself in a room completely blank with white walls. Straightening his posture, dark strands of chocolate brown hair falling forward into his face, Dennis maneuvers his body in a complete circle. The walls are white, the floor is white and tiled beneath his feet. It is a strange overwhelming, claustrophobic sensation. The illusion the walls are inching closer, the ceiling and floor rising and falling.

Dennis’ breathing becomes much more labored -- finding himself entirely alone. “Hello?” He called, angling his body around, blue eyes staring at a reflection of himself in a mirror. “Is there anybody here?” It is then, out of the blinding white walls, he noticed a door. “Hello? Who’s out there? Where am I?” Hands scrape across the surface of the window. “Who is out there?”


[/justify]
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