fighting for love and personal gain

[CHARLIE DANIEL SINCLAIR]

we’ve all been lost for most of this life, everywhere we turn more hatred surrounds us and i know that most of us
JUSTAINTRIGHTFOLLOWINGTHEWRONGSTEPS

In the growing ash of dusk, the birds’ songs drew to a close as they settled deep in their twig homes. Wind shook leaves lightly as the earth turned slowly to sleep. Around the decrepit mansion, silence always reined. It had been so long since anyone lived here. Over fifty years ago this house had been used, but now only dust and broken glass remained. Massingale was the only house of its size in Empress, and thus it was called a mansion. The house stood stark against the skyline, far from the collected houses of the main of Empress. It was rare for anyone to ever be here, alive or dead. There were no ghosts, though the few young children enjoyed spreading rumours to spook others. Out here, all was calm and quiet, bugs flying slowly through the air, sounds muted and hushed as the light closed over the sleepy town of Empress.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” a hissed voice spiralled through the silence as a body spun though the door less frame leading to the dusty basement. Charlie dug his fingers into his hair, pressing his nails against his scalp sharply. More words rolled under his breath, tossed into an angry jumble. He tossed his hands from his head, moving towards the large furnace that used to heat this house. “FUCK” he roared, his foot flying out and connecting with the machine and making a dull ringing thud. It was far too quiet here, his voice echoed off the walls. He moved further into the basement, towards the stairs leading up. His mind got caught again in the rapid torrent of snarling words, spinning there and poisoning. Charlie reached the bank of the stairwell and the wall and his fist flew out, connecting with the wood wall. His hand came away stinging but he didn’t care as he stomped up the stairs, kicking away any old wood beams. The second floor was more open, but no less relaxing. “FUCK HIM. STUPID FUCKING WHORE,” he kicked at the oven lying in the middle of the floor, growling under his breath. He punched the wooden support beam again, and again, until his fists started coming away as bloody and raw, stinging with pain. Charlie covered his face with his hands, his frantic movements slowing for once as he breathed. Seeing him again had done it for Charlie. Seeing his face again and watching him live his life like any normal person had made Charlie furious. He’d wanted to rip out his eyeballs, shred his skin and teach him pain though Charlie knew he’d put him through enough. Charlie snarled, pushing his forehead against the wall. It was his fucking fault anyway. Charlie punched the wall again as he felt a burning sensation behind his eyes, his voice stopping from its endless tirade of words, or almost words. Charlie didn’t know why he’d come here, there were memories here, stuck in his brain like old Kodak photographs. Seven years, seven years and he still couldn’t fucking get over it.

He travelled up the stairs again, heading to the third and top level. Broken bits of glass crushed under his feet. He clawed at his ears, kicking a few pieces up. “Stupid fucking whore thinks he’s happy. Hah,” he rolled his head back, breathing out of his nose slowly and carefully. Seven years, he needed to calm down. It didn’t matter anyway. Just old news. “Fucking piece of shit.” His feet carried him over the glass that spread out over the entire third floor. How so much glass was there was strange. There were many large windows, but the entire floor was covered with dust old glass pieces. Charlie leaned heavily against the frame of a wide window overlooking Empress. Charlie had seen him a few times, but never like this. Never smiling and right there, begging for Charlie’s attention. And the worst part, god the worst part was seeing that other guy come and put his arm around him and touch him. He was Charlie’s, no one else’s. Charlie shook his head wildly, short of hitting himself. He was being stupid. He needed to stop thinking like this. He pressed his palm into the rough wood of the window frame, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his other hand. Everything was fine. Quickly, he plucked the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled one out. He lit it slowly, putting the pack back in his pocket. Charlie watched as the stars started to appear in the sky, breathing in the soothing smoke. He sighed shakily. “Fuck.”

BEINGLEDBYPRIDEHOWMANYLIVESWILLWE
take, how many hearts destined to break, nowhere to run, can’t escape, full of ourselves, tied to our fate, the end is knocking

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
TAGS // Wren!!
LYRICS // Lost by Avenged Sevenfold
TUNES // A little Piece of Heaven, Avenged Sevenfold
WORDS // 775
NOTES // Yay for excessive anger(nd swearing, oh my goose). Heather is also in a very avenged sevenfold type mood^^

[WREN SEBASTIAN ZEIGER]

THE S E C R E T SIDEOFMEINEVERLETYOUSEE
I K E E P I T CAGED B U T I C A N T C O N T R O L I T S O S T A Y A W A Y F R O M M E T H E B E A S T I S UGLY

I F E E L T H E RAGE A N D I J U S T C A N T H O L D I T , I T S S C R A T C H I N G O N T H E W A L L S I N T H E
C L O S E T INTHEHALLSITCOMES A W A K E

The silhouette of the rolling hills was engulfed by the growing night. What normally stands so fiercely had been betrayed by the eastern skies. Now, all that settled against the darkening sky was a diluted lining and small speckles of star light. Towards the east, the world was flat as the sun settled down for its nightly nap. Purple and streaks of orange hovered about the horizon as slowly the sun was disappearing. The world beneath was silent while men and woman gathered inside their homes, with dims lights illuminating from the windows. Still with these small lights there was one corner of town that remained in darkness. Soon the sun would completely be gone and this building would be nothing but a ghostly shadow of the night. Massingale stood sturdy, but broken within it all, must like a symbol for the entire town of Empress. Not a single light was cast, and not a peep came out of the lifeless house. It was a perfect sanctuary for the quietest creature.

The light sound of gravel moving seemed unsettling in the darkness. Few people walked around in the night, especially around Empress. Most people were too elderly to want to walk around being attacked by the bugs, especially the mosquitoes. And yet, there still seemed to be someone wandering around in the night. No one would notice the ghostly figure for several reasons. One was that he had been venturing on the far end of town that had been completely paved with gravel and with tall grass from the farmers’ fields just on the side of the road. Another reason was that this person was not living at all, but instead was a ghost of the sorts. If he had been alive he would look as normal as the next person, but maybe with a slightly more handsome posture about him. His hands reached into his pockets at nothing, but just for the reason of sitting there. His eyes gazed down at the ground following his feet as they aimlessly ventured. What else was there to do in this town but walk? So he did. He had been walking around all day for absolutely no reason. There was nothing to do, no one to see, there was no one interesting in this town and now that he was dead the most he could really do was some harmless haunting. He had once been so intrigued with death but now that he had achieved and successfully came here, he was starting to question why he ever tested death. Now he was completely useless to the existence of the world, just a trapped soul in the most secluded town ever to exist. He sighed to himself finally looking up to where his feet had taken him. Somehow he had found his way to Massingale. Suddenly everything that he had blocked out before started pouring into him. Crickets seemed louder than he remembered, and there seemed to be a faint sound of someone’s angry shouting. Wren felt puzzled at this. With all this shouting, one would think that there would be neighbours investigating, especially in such a nosey place like Empress. He looked around and then thought to himself that there must only be one reason that someone hadn’t done something about the ferocious fit: the angry person must be a ghost.

He stood at the edge of the field of Massingale’s property. He wasn’t sure exactly what to do if it was safe to check out what was going on in the building, or if he should leave the spirit alone. There was so much ruckus that he was still wondering why other spirits hadn’t gathered to check it out. It was right then that he decided that he shouldn’t care why there were so many violent words or anything of the sort, he was curious and it might be amusing to see what was going on inside the building. Maybe it would complete his horribly boring day. He allowed his feet to walk towards the building, not being to careful to check for snakes that could be resting on the ground. He approached the main floor door, stepping on the nail bedded ply wood that was rotting on the ground. He expertly climbed through the frame. When he was still alive he came inside the building on several occasions just to sit there and contemplate different situations, that and take in girls that he was trying to impress or terrify. He clapped his hands together brushing away dirt, and it was at that point he realized he was bleeding. He looked down at his right hand that had a puncture wound the size of a nail. He turned his head back, and sure enough there had been a dirty nail sticking out from the frame with some shiny liquid on it that was guessed to be Wren’s blood. He shrugged it off meekly. Really, what he was he to care? He was already dead; it wasn’t like he could suddenly become diseased. He noise became louder and seemed to be moving up the stairs. For a moment, Wren stood poised and silently, trying not to startle anyone, especially not someone that was angry. Once it was quiet for a moment, he moved his way through the open spaces in the walls. Quietly, he found his way to the stairs, making sure his movements were almost silent. He carefully stepped up the stairs until he could see a silhouette of a man and the faint glow of a cigarette. He smiled slightly and climbed his way to the top of the stairs where he sat down watching this frustrated man. What could he have been so pissed off about?

---

LYRICS//: monster, skillet
TUNAGE//: monster, skillet
COUNT//: 957
NOTES//: i'm pumped for this one.

[CHARLIE DANIEL SINCLAIR]

we’ve all been lost for most of this life, everywhere we turn more hatred surrounds us and i know that most of us
JUSTAINTRIGHTFOLLOWINGTHEWRONGSTEPS

The wind blew softly in the trees, drawing the smell of hay and warmth into the empty house. Charlie’s hand shook as he drew the cigarette up to his lips again, sucking the smoke in deep. His fists hurt where he’d punched the wall. He could feel the blood drying and cracking as he flexed his free hand. He hated Empress. Fucking hated it and all the old people and their conservatism. God, the first time he dared hold a guys hand in public for a second, a fucking second, they had nearly ripped his body apart. Not literally, none of the old idiots would be able to, but the rumours they spread and the words they hissed had magically hurt more than any wound. But, Charlie was tough, or so it seemed, and dealt with it all in silence. He mostly just taught himself to suck it up, because there was no point in crying over something he couldn’t fix. The others could do all the crying, but not him. Charlie would take all their stereotypes and stick them right back up their goddamn asses. Charlie felt none of that strength now though, as he stared out across his home. He hated Empress, but he could never leave. It was his home, and he had never left his home. Even if there was nothing but hate left for him, he would still stay here, because he knew nothing else. It wasn’t anything to do with him either. God no, Charlie hated him. Hated his stupid fucking face and that crooked smile and his blond hair and his shining eyes. Stupid fucking whore he was.

Slowly, Charlie raked his hand through his hair, sighing out a puff of smoke. All of this had brought back so many memories. Things he’d fought for years to push to the back of his head and keep there. They’d festered there, and grown worse. Charlie wanted to be angry, just angry and swear and break things. That was how he was meant to deal with his emotions, just smash things and cause general havoc. Go ruin some persons home and make a real haunted home in Empress. Instead he was haunted by this damn sadness and regret. Regret for what he had done, because he could scream and shout and break things, but it was all Charlie’s fault. All his and his stupid goddamn fears fault. He had gotten so close to something good, something true, that he had run. He had run and torn it apart the only way he knew how. Just like he always did, and just how he would continue doing without even thinking about it. But with him, Charlie had felt regret for the first time. It was because Charlie had felt like he did and things were so good, for a time. Charlie shook, his fist digging into the wall again. He needed to stop remembering, stop feeling. It was nothing. It was over and gone. He hated him. Oliver hated him and Charlie knew this and it was his fault. He kicked roughly at the edge of the window frame, his shoes kicking free some wood. He threw down his cigarette and smeared it out on the ground, grabbing the wooden border around the frame. The wounds on his one fist had opened once more but he didn’t really care. “Stupid. Fucking stupid.”

Suppressing the urge to punch a hole in the wall, Charlie turned away from the window, leaning against the wall there for a moment. It was getting dark fast, the long twilight ending. He wanted to get out of there and do...something. There wasn’t a lot to do. Empress was always Empress and everything grew old after about a month. The only thing left was to wander the jail like cell he was imprisoned to and that would hardly help. Charlie pushed himself way from the wall, rolling his head around in a circle, like stretching would work away the anger and frustration. If only life had a rewind button, but Charlie didn’t know how he would do things differently. If he ever had a second chance would he take it or just run away again? He had never had a chance to see, and he didn’t know if he would. After Oliver, all his relationships had never lasted long. He’d grown more and more abusive and no one was willing to deal with it. And perhaps the fact that he was dead now had something to do with it. Finding love when you have no life was a little tricky. Looking at the ground, Charlie headed back for the staircase, already considering another cigarette. It was his only real crutch, despite smashing things and acting like a general asshole. Charlie looked up to see someone sitting at the top of the staircase, staring at him. He stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck do you want?” he snarled, crossing his arms across his chest. Charlie felt like this guy had been watching him, for whatever fucking reason. Just what he needed when he was trying to calm down, some random guy spying on him.

BEINGLEDBYPRIDEHOWMANYLIVESWILLWE
take, how many hearts destined to break, nowhere to run, can’t escape, full of ourselves, tied to our fate, the end is knocking

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
TAGS // Wren!!
LYRICS // Lost by Avenged Sevenfold
TUNES // To be scared by an owl, Alesana
WORDS // 864
NOTES // oh the music that gets me in an angry writing mood, how i love it.

[WREN SEBASTIAN ZEIGER]

THE S E C R E T SIDEOFMEINEVERLETYOUSEE
I K E E P I T CAGED B U T I C A N T C O N T R O L I T S O S T A Y A W A Y F R O M M E T H E B E A S T I S UGLY

I F E E L T H E RAGE A N D I J U S T C A N T H O L D I T , I T S S C R A T C H I N G O N T H E W A L L S I N T H E
C L O S E T INTHEHALLSITCOMES A W A K E

There was nothing, absolutely nothing. Empress offered nothing but a hollow appeal. The entire town was quiet, plain, boring, old, and conservative. Back in the day there were so many stories about the trouble the teenagers used to get into in such a small community, but this was the present and everything seemed to have deteriorated. People had moved away, never looking back while a few selective people remained in the town, raising their children. They had nothing to worry about. Nothing could hurt their children in such a small place, could it? Besides the rattle snakes, the bugs, the barbed wire fence, the judging glares, nothing really hurt these children, right? Wrong. If anything these children were left behind in the world, feeling that they must make their life so much more interesting and glamorous, finding ways to hurt them and get into trouble. Slowly as the population of teenagers began to raise, there seemed to be less outrageous activities. Mostly this was because these kids found elsewhere to take their vodka of troubles. But somehow, Wren’s fun seemed to come here, at Massingale where he was basically stalking on some other guy.

As Wren found himself a seat in the frame of the stairs, he began to question everything. Why was this man so upset, how did he get upset, and when had he first arrived here? It was as if there was an interrogation going on inside Wren’s mind. Massingale had always been a place in Empress that was a little more interesting than everywhere else. There were so many more questions that could be asked about it, a mystery or the sorts to tell its true purpose. There were people who claimed that it used to be much like a bed and breakfast, but the structure didn’t seem like it would be the type for a mini-hotel. The entire building was fairly large, and if it was still in its natural beauty as if was when it was first build, it would be even larger with the extended deck that gave a better view of the South Saskatchewan River. Somehow kids, teenagers and adults of all ages found themselves in this building, just to know what it was like inside, to seek into their own personal adventure of what Massingale truly used to be. A lot of people much like this fellow here just came here as a quiet place to vent. There was no place quieter than an abandoned building. Even Wren had come here on several occasions just to think and plot out his own life rather than does it somewhere in his room where someone might find him and question him accusingly.

The moment the other male seemed to turn furiously from the window, Wren dragged himself one step lower. It was difficult since the stairs were so old and filled with rubble and debris from kids breaking things inside the house. If that wasn’t enough the stairs were really thin and almost impossible to get a steady place to sit on. He was starting to feel a little bit of fear pulsing, which was odd for him, but he had never seen someone that looked so angry or upset. He remained still though he wasn’t really sure why. Especially when the figure started walking towards the stairs and there was no possible way for Wren to not of been seen. The walls were so torn that there wasn’t even a wall, just stands that held the roof up. If Wren moved, it would just make things more obvious. It was one of the strangest feelings that Wren had ever encountered. Finally, as the man started towards him, he held his ground. He looked him in the eyes carefully. “ The question shouldn’t be what I want, but instead should be, why are you here? Isn’t this place a little dangerous for someone with the amount of anger that you seem to possess?” He looked at him with his most sarcastic look, feeling a little bit of adrenaline pumping in his lifeless body. This might actually turn out to be interesting depending on how Wren was willing to play his cards.

---

LYRICS//: monster, skillet
TUNAGE//: the washing machine
COUNT//: 699
NOTES//: meow.

[CHARLIE DANIEL SINCLAIR]

we’ve all been lost for most of this life, everywhere we turn more hatred surrounds us and i know that most of us
JUSTAINTRIGHTFOLLOWINGTHEWRONGSTEPS

Wounds were nothing. Mere lacerations in the flesh, cut skin and bruised insides. It all healed in time. Nothing that caused pain stayed for long, not even the pain. A quick, sharp jab and then it was gone, dulled and smoothed by the brains nerves. So how was it that the pain of a broken heart never would go away? There was nothing even there, and yet it was constant, sharp and penetrating, tearing like claws against his rib cage. Heart break, pah, as if he even had a heart anymore. He shouldn’t, and he shouldn’t have ever trusted that stupid bloody muscle that had no head and no say in what he did or felt. Charlie hoped for pain though, every day, to hurt something or someone or even himself in the process. Not mental pain like this damn ache, but physical hurt. He was, somewhat, a daredevil. He liked the adrenaline that pounded through the body at contact with pain. Now that he was dead to, it reminded him of being alive. He didn’t find much difference between the two, but deep down, Charlie found an urge in him to be a live again, to have life fluttering in his chest once more. Pain lasted short, but it was so sweet. It was better the short sweet relish of a nick in the flesh then the long wrung out emotional rip down his soul.

God. This stupid arrogant bastard. Charlie could already tell he was cocky and retarded and everything that would get on his nerves in every which way. Maybe this was exactly what he needed, someone that could get on his nerves enough to make him forget everything else. “I could be asking you the exact same thing. Massingale isn’t exactly the most popular place to visit come dusk.” Why did it matter why he was here? He was here for any damn reason. He was here because it was here. He was here because he was running and this was about as far as he could get. But the idiot didn’t need to know that. Charlie wanted to hurt his sarcastic face, acting like he knew something Charlie knew even if this man had been following him, he would know nothing Charlie wasn’t stupid enough to say anything aloud, never really knew who was around. Yeah, he was strong and a total ass, but he didn’t want people thinking he was weak because of the fact he slept with men, sometimes.

What the hell was this guy doing here anyway, watching him? If he figured this place was dangerous, or maybe Charlie was dangerous, then why the hell didn’t he clear out? Charlie moved toward the other male, anger pulsating through his body. “I’m fucking dead, nothing is dangerous anymore,” no matter how much he bled or bruised or was in pain, it didn’t matter. He would keep on being dead. You couldn’t die twice, and Charlie was now basically immortal. So was this other annoyance, but that didn’t matter. Dangerous his ass. This place was just a harmless empty house, with little but an oven and a furnace to do damage. It was empty as the rest of the damn town. The other male wasn’t even a danger. What harm could a ghost do? Charlie had experience with the fact that ghosts could touch each other, hit each other and still feel pain. What did it matter though? Charlie was dead, this other guy was dead everyone that could hear them, speak to them, fell them, was dead. A little pain here or there never really mattered much, even when they were living. Everything healed with time.

BEINGLEDBYPRIDEHOWMANYLIVESWILLWE
take, how many hearts destined to break, nowhere to run, can’t escape, full of ourselves, tied to our fate, the end is knocking

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
TAGS // Wren!!
LYRICS // Lost by Avenged Sevenfold
TUNES // My fan, it goes whoosh
WORDS // 612
NOTES // Charlie is such a sadist. and a masochist. and basically screwed the hell up....^^
SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. DONT BEAT ME. I PROMISE IT WON”T HAPPEN...often>> if you can't tell by my dieng word count, by brain is going to mush

[WREN SEBASTIAN ZEIGER]

THE S E C R E T SIDEOFMEINEVERLETYOUSEE
I K E E P I T CAGED B U T I C A N T C O N T R O L I T S O S T A Y A W A Y F R O M M E T H E B E A S T I S UGLY

I F E E L T H E RAGE A N D I J U S T C A N T H O L D I T , I T S S C R A T C H I N G O N T H E W A L L S I N T H E
C L O S E T INTHEHALLSITCOMES A W A K E

Words and wounds were two mere things that were so opposite that they worked together hand in hand. They could oppose each other so well, and get juxtapose each other in harmony. So many times words were the creation of wounds, the inner hurt that tapped ever nerve and vessel of the body. Simple comments spoken throughout a person’s day, year or life can impact them so harshly that it not only causes an ache of the heart but an ache of the body. The body will respond to drastic sad features and lose energy, become numb and feel lifeless. It was a tragic part of anatomy. It was nothing too scientific, but it was something that had been documented. For some this ache occurred more frequently, and for others it fazed them as nothing. For Wren, he was one of the many who saw very little into the words and actions of other people. Things were never too personal to him unless he made them personal with himself, rather than the influence of other people. It may seem confusing to most, but he could never let another person control his mood, his feelings or his emotions. Maybe he was just a rare occurrence in the human life, or maybe he was just completely a brick, his spirit almost inanimate as his actual body lay.

This was completely in the moment. Everything had always been in the moment. There was little thought out, or planned or considered, but this indefinite action was a strong occurrence. Wren didn’t think much of words that he sewed or the body language he portrayed, or even the enraged face that looked at him. This was just another moment of his spiritual life, another spell that time had created for a short while. Why not take advantage of the uncertainty? “Maybe you only think that for yourself but it appears that there must be something popular about it if we both ended up here, no?” Wren realized his response was completely pointless, and sounded ridiculously bratty. Wren smiled internally at himself for being such an ass. He knew so well that he was whatever he wanted to be whenever he wanted to be, but most of the time he chose to be the sarcastic, arrogant type. Of course Wren had followed this boy up into Massingale, but why would he actually fess up to that? That was no fun what so ever. Part of him just wanted to start something, a brawl maybe? Or maybe just something verbal that involved harassment. He was an all star when it came to bitching out other people, mostly because he said all the wrong things and the things people just didn’t want to hear at all. He could piece together some nice scripture if he wanted, but he preferred to be aimless like that and see what happens in the end.

Wren rolled his eyes slightly. Sometimes people tried to be so intense but all Wren ever heard was a “blah, blah, blah”. He realized that this kid did have some great intensity, that there probably where quite a few back stories to it all, but in complete honesty, Wren just didn’t give a shit. He knew he probably looked like the biggest jerk, conceited and all in front of this guy, but he felt like being an asshole, it was such great fun! “Yeah, and I’m dead too, so you can stop the whole tough guy act bub because I’m not too worried about you” Wren crossed his arms and walked more toward the center of the stairs, it was difficult for him to stand completely correct since the steps were so thin and lined with glass and debris. He wouldn’t let his face or body make any sign of struggle, though. Wren wasn’t exactly sure where this conversation was going. He had no idea if this guy might punch him or something, maybe just verbally try to destroy him, but Wren didn’t really care. Somehow all of this was just from his floating attitude. He laughed slightly looking at the expression on the guys face. There was just so much going on with this guy internally, that Wren couldn’t help himself. Wren didn’t have a problem in the world, but seeing this guy having some underlining pent-up emotions was something interesting. He chuckled a little more softly, closed his eyes and looked back up at the guy.

---

LYRICS//: monster, skillet
TUNAGE//: I believe in a thing called love, THE DARKNESS
COUNT//:743
NOTES//: HEY. There is nothing wrong with a sadist or a masochist >> *cough. I won’t stab you, this is just my favourite thread and all PFFT.

[CHARLIE DANIEL SINCLAIR]

we’ve all been lost for most of this life, everywhere we turn more hatred surrounds us and i know that most of us
JUSTAINTRIGHTFOLLOWINGTHEWRONGSTEPS

It didn’t matter to him; none of any of anything ever mattered because it was pointless and stupid. This guy's words berated his ears like angry flies, slicing down his ears and grating against his raised temper. God, he was so done with life, or afterlife, or whatever the fuck this was. He was done with people and words and having to deal with the shit it all threw at him. He wanted this boy to leave him the fuck alone. All he’d wanted in coming here was some peace, not more tension and anger. The whole world was filled with the ugly fire though, smouldering and blowing, the ash seeping away into the wind, no place unmarred. In this town, on this earth, there was no real place to escape fully, besides that of death and that even seemed hard to access. Charlie’s body was locked, left in dirt and rotting away, from the center out. Like he was rotten, turning everyone’s life into a hell and holding them there for his mere enjoyment. The only enjoyment he got in life was playing with others, hurting them, rarely even offering a smile. Everyone around him was so boring and he, he was losing himself to that, but also letting himself tear through them. He was a flash of red across the grey canvas of Empress, though lazy in his strike, and sometimes harsh in an unturned angle. What was the point though? Truly, nothing. Life held no point, but Charlie has enjoyed making one for himself.

The words directed into the air were so pointless, but were meant to be pointless, useless jabbering like this boy could see the rage streaking across Charlie’s brain. He wanted to laugh in his face, play those words back, let him hear how stupid they were, but this boy wouldn’t understand. He was acting like a jerk just for fun, Charlie could see it in the upward tilt of his lips, the way he looked at Charlie and seemed so damn smug about it. He was so frustrated and angry he found it hard to think past a few syllables, let alone stringing words together to send this lost pup back home. “Hah. This place is a home for scared little kids and stories of nothing. Shouldn’t the good old bogey man have scared types like you away long ago?” Charlie could be a master at pulling people hurt to the surface, ripping at them when they were most weak. IT was so easy, it took a margin of thought so figure out what someone was scared of, and then you blew that up and torn them limb from limb. Though, Charlie really was a simple man. He preferred fists over words, fights over debates. He too often let his temper get the best of him and snare him down to punching. It was better that way though; it was how it was supposed to be done. Animals didn’t talk, they fought, and they fought to the death. Blood, pain, death and no more, that was the way to rule.

Acting? Who the fuck did this idiot think he was. Charlie was no little scrawny idiot who only acted tough. The word tough was so clichéd anyway. Tough guys now were the type of guys who just acted it all up but ran crying at the slightest hint of confrontation. Acting his ass. He didn’t care if this guy wasn’t worried about him, he wasn’t trying to threaten him or get him out of his way. He wasn’t any territorial over testosterone filled male. This guy could stay here and fill his boots as long as he didn’t bother Charlie. It seemed, though, that that wouldn’t’ happen. “What and you think you’re so damn great? You come here just to bitch someone out and act like an ass because it’s fun. You’re useless.” He wouldn’t bother trying to explain anything about himself to the guy. This wasn’t some damn heart to heart. This was some idiot improtching on Charlie for fun. Charlie wouldn’t have minded if the guy had just come here, and he might of, but he needed to keep his nose in his own goddamn business. His sudden laugh tore at Charlie ears and he wrapped his fingers into fists. It would be so easy to send his body tumbling back down the stairs, littered with sharp pieces of glass and debris. Charlie wouldn’t though, not yet. He wouldn’t put the effort into bothering punching this guy, starting up a fight. He wasn’t scared, instead he just restrained himself. It wasn’t any macho act, like ‘oh you’re lucky I’m not beating your ass right now’. But Charlie was a male, and he did want to prove himself better than this scumbag.

BEINGLEDBYPRIDEHOWMANYLIVESWILLWE
take, how many hearts destined to break, nowhere to run, can’t escape, full of ourselves, tied to our fate, the end is knocking

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
TAGS // Wren!!
LYRICS // Lost by Avenged Sevenfold
TUNES // Critical Acclaim, Avenged Sevenfold
WORDS // 800
NOTES // Well seems heathers brain is better. Brandynn is awesome at inspiring me^^. And yay A7X

[WREN SEBASTIAN ZEIGER]

THE S E C R E T SIDEOFMEINEVERLETYOUSEE
I K E E P I T CAGED B U T I C A N T C O N T R O L I T S O S T A Y A W A Y F R O M M E T H E B E A S T I S UGLY

I F E E L T H E RAGE A N D I J U S T C A N T H O L D I T , I T S S C R A T C H I N G O N T H E W A L L S I N T H E
C L O S E T INTHEHALLSITCOMES A W A K E

Emotions were the flow of life. People had emotions which set them aside from the creatures of the world, made them feel and made them express themselves in ways that other animals or plants could. Many people were able to feel happiness and bliss through simple actions. It was easy to tell that from a laugh, or a smile there was something about that person that was trying to express an emotion. Anger, is expressed through burrowed brows and a twitching lip, or something that seemed to express a feeling that related to hell. That was one thing that humans were able to control, though. When animals expressed emotions, the emotion they displayed would be the emotion that they actually feel. As for humans, they are able to create a complexity where they don’t always feel the emotion that they are expressing. When they are sad, they can sculpt themselves to be quite happy. It was always interesting how complex the human mind worked and decided to function. Looking at this man now, it was obvious that there was anger in his voice, in his heart, but who was to say that there wasn’t another emotion jumbled up in the mix?

There was something flashing around inside this boy that stood before Wren. He didn’t really feel like pin pointing anything about it. He was a jerk much of the time, but he wasn’t going to go out purposely trying to break this guy down into little pieces. That was almost odd because Wren had a way of dissecting a person from the inside out like a psychologist or like a surgeon; he had the perfect mix. He looked up at this guy with a dull expression across his face. “Ha, well boogyman, you aren’t really doing a good job of scaring me, so no.” Wren couldn’t help but smile at his own little comment. It wasn’t anything dumb looking, but it definitely was a devious smirk. He loved himself for being so clever. He sighed slightly thinking to himself how these words were completely pointless, and he started to question why he was even in this building, but at the same time he was slightly thrilled with being here, just for the fact that he was around someone. He was always interested in other people and how they reacted to different situations, and he was really interested in seeing how this boy would react to the words Wren had just spat out at him. All he really had to do was watch the expression as it would alter on the face before him.

It was at this point that Wren started to wonder what was going on in the mind of this guy. There must be something interesting running about inside there. What had he been doing in Massingale, or especially on the top floor of Massingale? Had being on the top floor been something symbolic to him? There must be something here that meant something to his subconscious to drag him over here. But all these thoughts were part of Wren’s psychological thoughts. He had always dissected other people by accident and now it was just something that was a habit to him. It was easy to read other people, especially when they were at peaked emotions, but he could never really see what else was inside like their exact thoughts or frustrations. He wanted to learn them, even if he had to trick his way into them. “Oh, I know what I am, and you’re sadly mistaken, sir...? Well, I am sure you aren’t even interested in sharing a name with me but...” Wren paused for a moment looking around at everything, all the broken windows and shredded beams of wood. He chuckled slightly and then returned his thoughts back to this guy, “It appears that you are the one with issues to have even come here in the first place. Did you think of this place as your inner soul? Broken and tattered? Hmm?” He patted his hand against the guys face, not really expecting the best of reactions. He was even surprised that this boy didn’t move the moment that Wren lifted his hand. He smiled slightly when he pulled his hand away, very interesting. He took a few steps down the stairs to see if this guy would take the chance at getting an exit, and when Wren got to the bottom of the stairs he turned a corner and watched to see if there would be another body following him.

---

LYRICS//: monster, skillet
TUNAGE//: your song, mayday parade
COUNT//: 757
NOTES//: don’t thank me... thank the pokemon.

[CHARLIE DANIEL SINCLAIR]

we’ve all been lost for most of this life, everywhere we turn more hatred surrounds us and i know that most of us
JUSTAINTRIGHTFOLLOWINGTHEWRONGSTEPS

Just not too long ago, the sunset had been spilling orange light into the rooms of Massingale, like it would every day of the year. Every day was the same, nature wise, and would continue to be the same. Time was seamless, flowing like a river. This moment could be any on the map of time. This moment could have been years earlier, when Charlie had been here but the atmosphere had been all too different from now. No anger reined, not even from Charlie, the king of bad tempers. Instead, the afternoon had held happiness for him, such a rare emotion. He could be happy though, strangely enough, and nice as well. It was funny to think of Charlie as a nice person, but it was possible. He might have been the boy that hit people, the boy that abused the ones that loved him and the boy that caused people pain by doing the smallest things, but he was also nice. He was also the boy that would buy roses for an anniversary, hold someone while they cried, would drive an hour just to see someone he missed. But, of course, it was rare. Now he hardly felt happy, or like doing something nice. What was the point of being nice if people were just going to throw you away in the end? Charlie could barely even handle himself anymore. He was a ticking time bomb, blowing up at every word and moment. If it didn’t matter, then why was he acting the way he did? He would never admit anything to himself though, even if he felt it deep down.

No time for internal therapy lessons right now though. Not like that was what Charlie would ever do. He’d never been into self help or any kind of that stupid sappy stuff anyway. He’d prefer a good fist fight, the way men were supposed to do these things. Beating up that idiot’s ass would help him figure everything out. Though, he’d done it before and it hadn’t solved anything, but that was then and this was now. The stupid asshole before him, a very persona of annoyance, was still at it. Of course he wouldn’t dissolve into thin air, as much as Charlie wished it would happen. “There’s worse bogeymen then me waiting out there to chew dogs like you up” he didn’t’ even really know what he was saying but it was fine. He was just throwing out words and so was the other guy. It would be as useless as a high school debate, but Charlie was never the first to let down, to back away and let a comment go unanswered. He wasn’t aware why the guy was doing this, all he was aware of was how bloody annoying he was. Charlie didn’t bother wondering anyway. He didn’t care for a reason why, he just cared for what. Why might be more interesting, but you couldn’t know why without the what. He was a simple guy, and all he knew was he wanted to punch this ass in the face, again and again and again. Perhaps he could send him to the grave once more.

Hah. Like Charlie would ever tell this fool his name. What would it matter anyway? Names were just more words, he was fine with addressing this guy as ‘asshole’. His next words made Charlie’s eyes narrow, as he tried to control himself. But fuck, he touched him. He refused to hit him though; it seemed like what the guy wanted. He didn’t want to let this arrogant fuck get on his nerves, because that was clearly his point. But Charlie couldn’t help but be angered by his words and actions. As the other descended the male, he shook, wanting to stay upstairs and away from the idiot. But, he couldn’t leave him off the hook; it was in a way winning if Charlie didn’t go down after him.”Fucking hell” he growled and pounded his way down the stairs, tapping his closed fists against the walls of the stairwell. If this guy wanted fun, he would goddamn get fun. “Hey, asshole!” Charlie grabbed the back of the guy’s shirt and spun him around, pulling on the front of his shirt then, in the classic move to drag him closer. “I don’t care what you think in that little brain of yours, because everything you think is wrong and you know nothing, absolutely nothing, about me or anything.” He was no weak little person whining in a corner. Charlie shoved the guy away from him, smiling slightly to watch him stumble. “Keep your nose in your goddamn business” with that Charlie turned, not caring what the other person did. It didn’t matter anyway. He didn’t go upstairs again, instead just walked away, moving aimlessly, and wishing he could squash the annoyance behind him like a bug.

BEINGLEDBYPRIDEHOWMANYLIVESWILLWE
take, how many hearts destined to break, nowhere to run, can’t escape, full of ourselves, tied to our fate, the end is knocking

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
TAGS // Wren!!
LYRICS // Lost by Avenged Sevenfold
TUNES // Harder Then You Know, escape The Fate
WORDS // 815
NOTES // sappy music is sappy. it just started playing while i was posting, i swear>.> and i swear im not trying to get more words then you, i just try to get in the vicinity of your word count and accidently overshoot

[WREN SEBASTIAN ZEIGER]

THE S E C R E T SIDEOFMEINEVERLETYOUSEE
I K E E P I T CAGED B U T I C A N T C O N T R O L I T S O S T A Y A W A Y F R O M M E T H E B E A S T I S UGLY

I F E E L T H E RAGE A N D I J U S T C A N T H O L D I T , I T S S C R A T C H I N G O N T H E W A L L S I N T H E
C L O S E T INTHEHALLSITCOMES A W A K E

Characteristics were developed by the people that impact another person. Whenever someone was more funny and sarcastic, it seemed that there would be a part of their buddy that would also want to be funny or sarcastic. It was a form of bonding. Other times this was used to hurt a person, where if someone is being rude, the other person will counter with a similar attack. It makes everything seemed balanced even when it was all disorientated. With most people Wren would be nice... well most people being girls. He would always be nice to girls, treat them well, say nice things, etc. But when it came to guys they always had something so stuck up about them like there was something to prove no matter what atmosphere they were in. Even during school, they would try to prove themselves smarter or something than Wren and he would just get highly annoyed because he knew how he was far more intelligent than some of these Rocky-types. He always left behind all that stuff, but now with this guy, he felt that same annoyed feeling as before. He hated it when people tried to outwit him, thinking just because they were muscular and more stronger than him that they could defeat him mentally. Silly world.

Everything felt all too familiar about this situation that Wren was in. He was sure that there was a time where he was trapped in a building of the sort with some sort of violent barbarian in the way of him. There was a difference this time though, and that was that Wren went looking for trouble. “Funny that you mention dogs, aren’t you a little snarly? All bark, no bite?” All the witty comments back and forth to each other were starting to bore Wren deeply. He knew he would win anything that had to do with wits, but fully understood that this guy was very stubborn. People that were the most stubborn, at times, could be the most interesting to tail at, but at this point Wren felt like he had left his mark enough and that being here was starting to get pointless if all they were going to do was spit and spat. He sighed deeply before looking down at the stairs, unconscious of the angry looming figure. The stairs didn’t look friendly in the least, but walking down them seemed tempting just to leave.

There was something about the start of a fight that made everything else seem completely irrelevant. The fascinating work of adrenaline pumping through the body made everything seem so much more crisp and real, yet very animated. Wren was actually quite surprised with everything. Before he had been so sure that he was on top of things, being the leader in the case between him and this other boy, but somehow things were turning for him. He could feel the pulse inside of him, that ringing in his ears that prepared him for something more than a gruff discussion. He allowed the other boy to completely manipulate his body, where if Wren would’ve struggled he knew that it would’ve just been more of a pain for the both of them. He looked at him like there was nothing to hide at all, his eyes tough and the color seeming to be perfectly glossy. He listened without listening to this guy letting this information go in one ear and then out the other. He picked up that this guy didn’t want to be messed with, and that just made Wren want to mess around a little bit more. Once he was thrown away he felt the frown on his face and stumbled a bit among all the rubbish on the ground. For a moment he thought that he was going to pick up himself from the stumble, but he just tripped over another piece of wood. Quickly, he extended his arms as a way to either balance himself or break the fall. Finally it all stopped and from a squatting position he raised back onto his feet. One he started walking again he was able to bring his wits back up from the back of his brain and he smiled slightly, keeping still, but watching the other guy pace around, “Trust me guy, I don’t need to know you to know that you have some serious issues going on in that noggin of yours.”

---

LYRICS//: monster, skillet
TUNAGE//: degenerates, scary kids scaring kids
COUNT//: 737
NOTES//: dude, its fine, I’m trying to get my words up there too, we are going to need some more plotting with this thread.

[CHARLIE DANIEL SINCLAIR]

we’ve all been lost for most of this life, everywhere we turn more hatred surrounds us and i know that most of us
JUSTAINTRIGHTFOLLOWINGTHEWRONGSTEPS

God, that fucking night continued to play over and over in Charlie head, like a broken movie reel. A really bad broken movie reel. It was stupid anyway, just another one of Charlie’s endless fights. He’d had many fights that ended relationships, so what was so goddamn special about this one? The words still dug like daggers in his mind, the look on Oliver’s face. So what if Charlie had slept with someone else? Oliver knew the rumors; he knew Charlie was prone to cheating on anyone and everyone he ever dated. It was a known fact to anyone who talked to Charlie’s ex’s, which a lot of people were. The stupid boy should have known. Charlie hadn’t even felt bad about cheating on Oliver, it was a natural occurrence. Though, he had felt a strange tug in his heart as he was fucking the girl, but he ignored it. Tugs weren’t important. This fight though, it had been just like every other single other one. Oliver accusing him, yelling at him, etc etc. Imagine any fight between a couple where one was cheating on the other and you have them. So then, why was it any different and why did Charlie even care? Why did he feel like he had to get drunk, why was there this strange pain in his heart whenever he thought of Oliver? It was stupid. He wanted to beat someone up, tear them to pieces. Fuck relationships, Charlie would rather just go back to his old fuck and run routine. That way, no one got hurt.

This idiot needed to learn a lesson. It sounded so cliché, to teach ‘someone a lesson’. Something you heard in old mob movies but there was no other way to describe it. Of course, the guy probably knew what he was getting into. No one was that stupid, though Charlie wished he could say the guy was that stupid. It was obvious he was looking for a fight though for whatever demented reason he had. Charlie wasn’t bored enough to bother trying to figure anything out. He never cared anyway, he was a guy, and feelings didn’t matter. “And aren’t you a little too cocky? You have any idea what you’re getting into?” Again with the cheap lines straight from a bad mob movie. Charlie could hardly think though, he was almost shaking with the anger that pulsated through his body. And anyway, Charlie never was the brightest crayon in the box. He couldn’t ever hide the fact that he was cheating from any of his girlfriends or boyfriends. Though, as a testament to his intelligence, he never even bothered trying to hide it. Charlie did what he wanted, when he wanted. It didn’t fucking matter to him.

As Charlie watched the other stumble and nearly fall to the floor, he wondered if he would even fight back. It would be pointless if he didn’t, and unusual. The guy clearly wanted a fight and hell, he would get one. Even if for some stupid reason he didn’t fight back, Charlie would still beat him to a pulp. It was obvious he wasn’t above hitting people when they were defenseless and just sat and took it. Charlie didn’t care who he hurt or how. If you pissed him off, you were getting hurt. No question about it. He never bothered trying to rein in his anger or his fists. It didn’t matter anyway; people prided themselves far too much on their humanity and using words over actions. But didn’t actions speak louder than words? Charlie took those words and used them as his philosophy, if he was even conscious enough of himself to have one. Charlie spun the moment the words were out of Wrens mouth. Without a thought, he stalked towards the annoyance, fire burning deep in his eyes. He was so fucking done with this. In a moment, Charlie’s fist slammed into the guys face. “DON’T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ENGLISH? STAY IN YOUR OWN FUCKING BUISNESS.” Charlie was glad to feel the impact of his punch still ringing in his fist. This guy was so stupid.

BEINGLEDBYPRIDEHOWMANYLIVESWILLWE
take, how many hearts destined to break, nowhere to run, can’t escape, full of ourselves, tied to our fate, the end is knocking

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
TAGS // Wren!!
LYRICS // Lost by Avenged Sevenfold
TUNES // Make Me Want To Die, The Pretty Reckless
WORDS // 689
NOTES // charlie is an angry beast, rawr. sorry for fail post, i hungry, like always.

[WREN SEBASTIAN ZEIGER]

THE S E C R E T SIDEOFMEINEVERLETYOUSEE
I K E E P I T CAGED B U T I C A N T C O N T R O L I T S O S T A Y A W A Y F R O M M E T H E B E A S T I S UGLY

I F E E L T H E RAGE A N D I J U S T C A N T H O L D I T , I T S S C R A T C H I N G O N T H E W A L L S I N T H E
C L O S E T INTHEHALLSITCOMES A W A K E

When had Wren ever really been sensitive to other people’s thoughts or feelings? He always did everything for himself and no one else. Who else was there to impress in the world? If he wanted to do something he was going to do it no matter what boundary people thought they could lay out. Sure, it might have not of been the most impressive thing to people but that was because they just didn’t understand exactly what everything was. What was wrong with doing what Wren wanted to do? It made him happy and that should be all that matters. If other people feel upset about it then that was their own problem and they should be doing something to make them happy instead of being such babies and blaming Wren for everything. Why bother even wasting their time blaming someone else for their unhappiness when they could be doing something to make them happy. It was so pointless to grieve over something… well pointless, there was so much more they could be doing and it annoyed the hell out of Wren thinking that these people were so hung up on silly little things. Of course that was just one of the few things that actually occupied Wren’s thoughts. He just got so annoyed with people sometimes and how lazy they could be with their life; that was where all the slackers in the world came from. If you want something, you better fucking work for it.

Of course this was exactly what Wren wanted. He remembered when he was still alive trying to get a rise on all of the kids that had always tried to get a rise out of him. For them they were never really successful to get anything out of Wren, mostly because Wren would turn the tables and make them angrier than they were originally. He actually didn’t know what the real point was, but for some crazy reason it was just something interesting to watch someone slowly raise from anger to furiousness. It was just like watching one of those hand drawn cartoon flip-books. There would be a slow movement and a delicate one that would reach to the very end, whatever that would be. It seemed that at this moment of Wren’s real life flip book was leading into a more threatening stage, possibly the incident that got the story started. Wren laughed just slightly at this kids words. “Oh, of course I know what I am getting into, and with your attitude I’m not too sure that you know exactly what you are jumping into there, buddy.” Wren was able to take one of his arms and slightly slap the guys shoulder in a playful and almost ‘I dare you’ type of way. Wren was probably a lot stupider than he liked to think. Looking at the two of them, of course the more intimidating one was not Wren. If anything Wren looked like the pip-squeak next to this guy, but did that stop him? Most certainly not.

It was no surprise that the guy finally decided to hit Wren, and at the same time it was a huge surprise. Mostly it was the impact that had taken Wren back for a moment. He didn’t actually have any real thoughts about it at all and instead his body did everything for him. Just as a regular reaction to it all, he lifted his hand and touched the part of his face that had been hit, it was really warm and he knew that there would probably be a bruise of some sort there waiting for him the next morning. At that moment he couldn’t feel any blood of the sort, just the burning, but even that almost felt like nothing to him at that moment. His body was so numb with adrenaline that it didn’t even matter. The world seemed still for a moment, especially as the guy decided to yell at him. After he finished his words, Wren looked at him, his eyes looking almost completely black and demon like. He smiled a smile that matched his eyes so perfectly you could’ve sworn he was something born straight from the abyss of hell. Only still for a moment he picked up his body and started to throw himself at the other boy. With his stronger arm he punched him across the face at the side of his eye and then used his other, weaker arm to try to upper cut the guys gut, but he knew that the second hit would be very little effecting. “Maybe you shouldn’t have so many pent-up emotions, then you wouldn’t be so fucking aggressive!” He yelled during the moments of his own development of violence and then spit aimlessly on the ground somewhere. For some reason he felt amazing, when really he should be on the ground in pain, the bruise on his face was already starting to form and it was nothing pretty.

---

LYRICS//: monster, skillet
TUNAGE//: so far away , avenged sevenfold.
COUNT//: 830
NOTES//: dude it feels like I haven’t posted in this for a year ><