This is my second Word Pack - just like the other ones, it features a compilation of 3 thematic flash fiction pieces. This Word Pack's theme is: "Impressions".
![[http://www.vampireforums.net/uploads/post-92-1126206381.gif]](http://www.vampireforums.net/uploads/post-92-1126206381.gif "http://www.vampireforums.net/uploads/post-92-1126206381.gif")
DrKoobie's Word Pack #2 | Installment #1.
Original Title: "(Rammstein - Stripped)" (2005)
Her naked fragile frame lying on the bed seemed out of place, alien to this world of cheap motels and watered-down booze.
She turned her head, eyes closed.
Sleeping. Still sleeping.
The wallpaper hanging in loose shreds from the walls, some sloppy abstract picture nailed above the bed. A wooden chair stood in one of the corners, constituting the rest of the room's furniture. A sport bag on it. A sport bag filled with two hundred thousand dollars. Two hundred thousand dollars and a gun.
Andrew looked at his girlfriend one more time. She was beautiful, yes, perhaps too beautiful, even. No man deserved such grace.
He slipped his hand in the bag and felt the cool of the revolver, the grip jumping into his palm almost on it's own accord.
Two hundred thousand dollars and gun.
Andrew closed his eyes.
His finger found the trigger.
She was an alien to this world of cheap motels and watered-down booze.
DrKoobie's Word Pack #2 | Installment #2.
Original Title: "(Mike Oldfield - Oceania)" (2005)
The silk white robe warped his body, its loose ends flapping in the wind. The thin fabric barely concealed Yoshiro's muscular torso, accentuated the contrast-black sheath on his hip, Yoshiro's palm lying softly on the sword's handle.
He was smiling.
He was standing in front of the sea, waves gently rolling onto each other, playfully reflecting the rays of the rising sun. It was smooth, calming. Even in its fury, the sea was always stable, it was always there. It never cheated Yoshiro, never told him a lie. Never judged him. The sea, a poet's dream, nature's beauty that is there for you, asking nothing in return. It has no stories to tell. Its stories are that of eternity, beyond the minds of feeble human beings.
He unsheathed his sword.
A strip of metal, glimmering in the sunlight.
He was a wealthy, educated, respected man. His wife adored him, his essays and books published all around the world. A philosopher of the modern age. Just a 47-year old man standing on the seashore, a sword in his right hand. Yoshiro was smiling, ready to take his life. Ready to put a dot in his final, and his most important work of all.
But what is beauty to the sea?
DrKoobie's Word Pack #2 | Installment #3.
Original Title: "(Anathema - Empty)" (2005)
My name is...
I'm standing in a line, the CONCRETE walls tearing through MY EYES and stabbing at my soul. I'm pathetic, you're pathetic, this morning filled with the word "OBEY".
It's minimum wage, it's a pick-axe, it's a hell.
Waiting in line, thirteen people in front of me, each to get his standard-issue instrument, a dirty helmet, and maybe a word of encouragement, maybe a tap on the shoulder.
Working in a cave, no sun, dirt and sweat, and I've got no future but the one I make myself by chipping rocks, day to day, my fellow coworkers by my side, slaves each every one of us, blood and cigarette smoke our LIVES.
The line clears out, I get my pick-axe, the descent into the shaft. Pulsing veins, anger, I never learnt to SMILE. I'm pathetic, you're pathetic.
Revolution is my name.
![[http://www.vampireforums.net/uploads/post-92-1126206213.gif]](http://www.vampireforums.net/uploads/post-92-1126206213.gif "http://www.vampireforums.net/uploads/post-92-1126206213.gif")
DrKoobie's Word Pack #2 | Installment #1.
Original Title: "(Rammstein - Stripped)" (2005)
Her naked fragile frame lying on the bed seemed out of place, alien to this world of cheap motels and watered-down booze.
She turned her head, eyes closed.
Sleeping. Still sleeping.
The wallpaper hanging in loose shreds from the walls, some sloppy abstract picture nailed above the bed. A wooden chair stood in one of the corners, constituting the rest of the room's furniture. A sport bag on it. A sport bag filled with two hundred thousand dollars. Two hundred thousand dollars and a gun.
Andrew looked at his girlfriend one more time. She was beautiful, yes, perhaps too beautiful, even. No man deserved such grace.
He slipped his hand in the bag and felt the cool of the revolver, the grip jumping into his palm almost on it's own accord.
Two hundred thousand dollars and gun.
Andrew closed his eyes.
His finger found the trigger.
She was an alien to this world of cheap motels and watered-down booze.
DrKoobie's Word Pack #2 | Installment #2.
Original Title: "(Mike Oldfield - Oceania)" (2005)
The silk white robe warped his body, its loose ends flapping in the wind. The thin fabric barely concealed Yoshiro's muscular torso, accentuated the contrast-black sheath on his hip, Yoshiro's palm lying softly on the sword's handle.
He was smiling.
He was standing in front of the sea, waves gently rolling onto each other, playfully reflecting the rays of the rising sun. It was smooth, calming. Even in its fury, the sea was always stable, it was always there. It never cheated Yoshiro, never told him a lie. Never judged him. The sea, a poet's dream, nature's beauty that is there for you, asking nothing in return. It has no stories to tell. Its stories are that of eternity, beyond the minds of feeble human beings.
He unsheathed his sword.
A strip of metal, glimmering in the sunlight.
He was a wealthy, educated, respected man. His wife adored him, his essays and books published all around the world. A philosopher of the modern age. Just a 47-year old man standing on the seashore, a sword in his right hand. Yoshiro was smiling, ready to take his life. Ready to put a dot in his final, and his most important work of all.
But what is beauty to the sea?
DrKoobie's Word Pack #2 | Installment #3.
Original Title: "(Anathema - Empty)" (2005)
My name is...
I'm standing in a line, the CONCRETE walls tearing through MY EYES and stabbing at my soul. I'm pathetic, you're pathetic, this morning filled with the word "OBEY".
It's minimum wage, it's a pick-axe, it's a hell.
Waiting in line, thirteen people in front of me, each to get his standard-issue instrument, a dirty helmet, and maybe a word of encouragement, maybe a tap on the shoulder.
Working in a cave, no sun, dirt and sweat, and I've got no future but the one I make myself by chipping rocks, day to day, my fellow coworkers by my side, slaves each every one of us, blood and cigarette smoke our LIVES.
The line clears out, I get my pick-axe, the descent into the shaft. Pulsing veins, anger, I never learnt to SMILE. I'm pathetic, you're pathetic.
Revolution is my name.
幻術
