Deaths demise (ch1)
#1 of Deaths demise
A 19yo gets a gun and changes the world
(I've had an ideal for awhile and a book sorta formed from it. I've not tried anything like this before so any constructive critique ia appreciated, please enjoy)
"I had a wonderful dream last night, a man stabs me for an empty wallet and receives instead a bullet" Dale lay there thinking of the wonderful dream until the bloody wrap on his arm caught the corner of his eye, he came to a sobering realization. "I... I killed him... I should be distraught but I'm... Ecstatic, should be sad but I'm happy, should be dead but I'm alive!" He sat up and look twards the loaded gun on his nightstand, the thought of the cold metal on his paw, and the thought of when he found it.
-One summer, a week after he had been adopted, dale walked down an abandoned street at night, he thought of his old life in the woods and of his new life with the lees. As he walked, deep in thought as usual, Dale kicked a fallen trashcan where the contents where scattered. Among the mess was a brown liquor bad with a black handle sticking out of a rip. Later he found out a local mobster had stashed it for later but now it was his. He grabbed it without hesitation, most would be weary of a random pistol but Dale seen the usefullness of it. Of course he didn't think o murder at The time as there was no one he felt a animosity, jelousy, love, or an thing twards.- looking back he was glad he picked up the gun but his thoughts where cut short bua surge of intense pain. Not from his wound, wich he couldn't even feel, but his whole body was bathed in agony. His screams of pain echoing down the halls of his abandoned apartment building. The rooms where abandoned due to his random fits of pain wich cause hi to wail out! But the only thing worse then the pain was the memory of how it happened.
-Summer vacation; Dale was ten when his mother took him on a pick-nick, dales mother was a lovely red fox but was distant and never paid much attention to Dale, his father had left so when his mother asked him to do anything together he was ecstatic. Dale grabbed the basket and ran to where his mother specified, and waited. After an hour of waiting he realized she was gone. In the basket was a knife, rope, some sandwiches, and a note reading "I'm sorry". Dale started to cry, it was all he could think to do, it was all he could do, luckily the cool darkness soothed him a little as he was use to solitude. Unfortunately the tears and food atracted a feral dog who stalked from the bushes, starved and looking for an easy meal. Without warning it lunged at Dale! Ripping and tearing at his leg causing his orange fur to become a dark Crimson. Out of instinct Dale grabbed a branch and swung at the dogs head colliding with a heavy THUNK! The dog retreated with just enough time for Dale to grab a knife from the basket and turn to see the dog mid-air, he thrust with all the force his younge arms could muster hitting the dog between the ribs. The dog bit down on dales muzzle before spitting up blood and dying. Dale lay there, covered in blood from his muzzle, torn leg, and the heavy bleeding dog that was now limp on his chest. In that moment Dale let go, he went limp, stoped feeling emotion or any kind of physical touch. He remembers the hospital vividly, the styril smell, the frantic commotion, and the passer by the talked with Dale. He did not catch the mans name but he was a gray wolf and dales neighbor, he explained that Dale had been in a coma for two weeks then left. Out of panick and being unable to explain what had happened Dale fled the hospital twards the woods, he managed to climb a tree and ditch the search parties but was then faced with survival.-
With a long sigh the pain had subsided and he didn't want to think about the past anymore, rather he picked up the gun and inspected it. He never really looked at or or bought ammo as it had several shots in the clip but he liked how it felt and realized that he could end the pain. All of the torment he has had to endure could be gone in a second... Or... He could end the misery of others. His mind raced to exhume a thought he had long ago. "Death kills all, but if you kill all and noones left have you not killed death?" A meniacle smile crept across his face as he thought. Dale loved death and while you couldn't tell from the compony he keeps he occasionally "just gets hurt". He would stab or cut himself to try to feel any pain besides the reoccuring pain of his childhood but to no avail, he needed towel pain on his own terms so as he thought he loaded the gun. After hours of solitude, tortured thoughts and memories, a surge of pain, and inspection of the black m911 that stood in stark contrast to his bright orange paw, he decided...
That was the first chapter, I know it's short but I'm awaiting feedback so it's better for the reader. Thanks for reading and please contact me about improvements)