Post by Kale on Nov 10, 2005 18:27:18 GMT -5
The sound of shouting echoed thru the house, which seemed held at a standstill. Thru the stagnant air, the shouting penetrated the normal bounds of it's territory, echoing around in the empty hallways.
"What on earth were you thinking?!"
Kale stood in the main living room, her ears pressed back against her head in a feeble attempt to block out the scolding. She looked horrible, bloody and bruised. And sporting a slightly swollen black eye. Her clothes, as well, were in ruins. Bloody and ripped up, her shirt was in worse condition than her jeans, showing off a good deal more skin than was necessary. There were clear imprinted bruises made by a hand on her arm and around her neck. And a few of the nails in her ears had been ripped clear out, leaving large bleeding holes in her ears. And the shouting of the man that stood before her did nothing to aid their pain.
The man in question, was not one familiar to the house. And, he didn't seem totally there. Every few seconds, his form wavered slightly, as if he were trying hard to keep his body from shooting off into a thousand tiny pieces. His hair was black in coloration, tipped in neon green that contrasted against the lightly glowing violet of his eyes. He held about him an almost royal air, although his dress was none better or less punk-ish than the clothes Kale would wear on a normal day.
"How could you do this?! I specifically told you not to go near them!"
The last words rang about in the air, the echo seeming to last and eternity, though it lasted no more than two fifths of a second.
As the last vibration in the air died away, Kale raised her head to look at the man. Her eyes, stone gray and bruised, began to fill with tears. "I...just wanted you to be proud..." That was all she said before turning and dashing away up the stairs to her room. Her entrance into her room was made clear as the door slammed, a loud sound that's echo lasted longer than that of the man's shout.
The man, her father, stood tall and silent, his eyes still staring off in the direction his daughter had ran. The image of her teary and bruised face was vivid in his mind, and was all that he could see. The image would not die away and allow his to see the room around him, though he made no motion to try. He stood, as if shocked, with his lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes, ever so slightly narrowed, never blinking or changing the direction they stared in.
"What on earth were you thinking?!"
Kale stood in the main living room, her ears pressed back against her head in a feeble attempt to block out the scolding. She looked horrible, bloody and bruised. And sporting a slightly swollen black eye. Her clothes, as well, were in ruins. Bloody and ripped up, her shirt was in worse condition than her jeans, showing off a good deal more skin than was necessary. There were clear imprinted bruises made by a hand on her arm and around her neck. And a few of the nails in her ears had been ripped clear out, leaving large bleeding holes in her ears. And the shouting of the man that stood before her did nothing to aid their pain.
The man in question, was not one familiar to the house. And, he didn't seem totally there. Every few seconds, his form wavered slightly, as if he were trying hard to keep his body from shooting off into a thousand tiny pieces. His hair was black in coloration, tipped in neon green that contrasted against the lightly glowing violet of his eyes. He held about him an almost royal air, although his dress was none better or less punk-ish than the clothes Kale would wear on a normal day.
"How could you do this?! I specifically told you not to go near them!"
The last words rang about in the air, the echo seeming to last and eternity, though it lasted no more than two fifths of a second.
As the last vibration in the air died away, Kale raised her head to look at the man. Her eyes, stone gray and bruised, began to fill with tears. "I...just wanted you to be proud..." That was all she said before turning and dashing away up the stairs to her room. Her entrance into her room was made clear as the door slammed, a loud sound that's echo lasted longer than that of the man's shout.
The man, her father, stood tall and silent, his eyes still staring off in the direction his daughter had ran. The image of her teary and bruised face was vivid in his mind, and was all that he could see. The image would not die away and allow his to see the room around him, though he made no motion to try. He stood, as if shocked, with his lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes, ever so slightly narrowed, never blinking or changing the direction they stared in.