And The World Keeps Spinning « Thread Started on May 16, 2007, 11:07pm »
((Sorry it's short. I have writer's block.))
He said, "Son when you grow up, would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned?"
A paw landed in the clearing, sending a wisp of dust into the air. Not that the paw's owner cared. Who was this cat, anyways? Black fur shone under moonlight as a stocky all-black cat stealthily made his way past the clearing and through the undergrowth again. How long until his name was cleared, was spoken? Even the cat didn't know, until a single word emitted from his mouth: "Crow".
He said "Will you defeat them, your demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made?"
While this despicable black cat was walking clouds darkened the moonlight. But Crow did not rely on sight for vision. He used his ears to see all the sounds; he used his nose to see all the scents; he used his tongue to see all the tastes. He knew that this world was rolling, and turning, too, but something drew him not to believe it. If only there was a cat to comfort this black one.
"Because one day I'll leave you, A phantom to lead you in the summer, To join The Black Parade."
Yes, the black parade. This cat was a fun-loving but easily angered soul. His fur, splashed in black, matched his personality evenly. His voice was loud and demanding, his stare fierce and unchangable. He knew his place in the world, Crow did. And he wanted the world to know his place. The black cat unsheathed his claws and gazed up at the moon furiously. His father had murdered his mother in cold blood. Now, he did only what came natural to him. Crow destroyed the ground near him, ripping up grass and dirt like it was Blackeh Birkry, the very cat who had killed Ravenia Lacka, the very cat who had killed his mother.
When I was a young boy, My father took me into the city To see a marching band.
Damned, yes. Beaten, no. Broken, no. A saviour? No. A simple, needing-cleaning, rough, muscular cat. His boney body let his lithe, thin shape maneuver his way well among the place he resided in. Hallow Mews was his home, and home is where the mind is. Otherwise, where would the mind be? Crow wasn't too arrogant, even if he was a little, so he did have the sense to admit that the mind was somewhere else today.
He said, "Son when you grow up, would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned?"
Let me go from this world! Crow wanted to scream, but he knew that wouldn't help. He wasn't a loser. No one bullied him yet. He was a Senate, a Senate of a Senate Clan of Hallow Mews. Yes, he was a Senate who worshipped StarClan, not a lowly Novice who worshipped that stinking Tamerlain which Crow didn't believe in. Crow, the jet-black, all-black, powerful black cat, was an honourable Senate of an honourable Senate Clan who worshipped the honourable StarClan and lived in the honourable Hallow Mews.
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