Ok, so I am working on a new novel. This is all I have so far. I decided to share it and see what other people think. Do you like it? Should I continue it? Also, I do not have a title for this novel yet. I'd like suggestions. And, as far as the main character's name goes, I am greatly considering changing it, but I don't know what to yet. I just picked the name Edgar, because I admire and adore the Hell out of Edgar Allan Poe, and that was just the first name to come to my mind. So... Feel free to read what I got so far, vote on the voting thing a ma jig at the bottom of the post, leave comments (if you can. I don't remember if there even is a comment thing a ma jig. LOL), or even email me feedback. rayasmommy94@gmail.com Thank you! :D
It was a dark and stormy night. It was almost pitch black, aside from the grey clouds that adorned just a small portion of the black sky, the silver rain that dripped from those grey clouds (the rain was dreipping from the sky the way Edgar's blood was dripping from the crevice in his body where his heart once lay), and the golden-yellow moon which peaked out from the edge of one of the clouds (the way the ring of Edgar's attacker peaked out from the edge of the blade that was used to cut the aorta and vein severing wounds into Edgar's chest). This, the ring of the attacker, was the very last thing Edgar had layed eyes upon before his heart was ripped away from his chest by his attacker and his soul was ripped away from his body by the Grim Reaper. Actually, technically, the very last trhing he had layed eyes upon before his death was the reflection of the crow's eye glaring off the attacker's ring.
The crow's eye was a vibrant chartreusse. The silver slit of a pupil just screemed, "Caution! This bird is diseased. It is infectious and contagious!" Edgar seemed to be hypnotized by the reflection of the crow's eye in the attacker's ring during the few moments just before his passing, but what good would it have done a bird to hypnotize a dead man (or nearly dead man)? Maybe he was just mesmerized.
So, here lied a mesmerized dead man in the very top of the inside of the "Belle Tower". No, the "Belle Tower" wasn't a giant tower which contained a giant bell. In fact, it wasn't even a tower. It was a rather large hotel building that had a small facility on the floor just underneath the penthouse suite. This facility on the floor directly under the penthouse contained a brothel, a casino, a bar, and other forms of adult amusement and entertainment. Technically the "Belle Tower" was just the name used for the small brothel located directly under the master bedroom of the penthouse suite, but because the whores from the brothel decided they'd rather run freely throughout the whole hotel, rather than keeping confined to the actual brothel, eventually the whole hotel became to be known as the "Belle Tower".
One of the big reasons why pretty much the whole hotel was flooded with half-naked hussies at pretty much any given time was that there was a "no smoking in the adult entertainment facility portion of the hotel" policy put in place by the owner of the hotel, and most of the whores liked to go take many cigarette breaks throughout their shifts.
So, it was in this brothel that Edgar had been brutally murdered and had had his aorta and veins severed and his heart ripped from his chest, his soul ripped from his body. It was in this brothel that he had seen the reflection of the crow's eye in the attacker's ring and became hypnotized. It was in this brothel that he had heard the one foreighn whore in the whole Belle Tower ask her fellow whores, "Cigarettenpausen?" Wait... Did he really just hear her ask that? He was dead! His ears weren't supposed to be working, he wasn't supposed to be hearing. Despite being dead Edgar could in fact hear the German whore ask her fellow whores if they wanted to go out with her for a cigarette break. Not only could he hear the ladies' discussion about rather or not they wanted to go take a break from sucking penises and having their tits squeezed to have a cigarette, he could also hear laughter and faint screams of the standers-by who witnessed his death, he could hear the distinct sound of ballroom music. Why was there both, laughter and screams, coming from the witnesses? Why was there classical, romantic music playing in the background? Why could Edgar hear voices, both whispered and not, coming from the people surrounding his dead body? Why could dead, little Edgar even hear anything at all?
Why was the laughter from the witnesses much louder and more abundant than the gasps, sighs, and screams? Why was there more laughter than screaming and crying? Why were the witnesses even laughing at him, anyhow? Were they really that careless and unsympathetic? That cynical? Evil, maybe?! No. They cant all possibly be that evil! Or could they? Were they even aware of what had just happened, what, outside of their little party, was really going on?
One of the prostitutes had noticed something peculiar about the dead man's face, actually a few things. The first thing that she noticed was there appeared to be three slashes across the side of his face. No. Not slashes. Scratches. But, from what? And why? They were rather large and rather deep scratches. Portions of the scratches looked fresh, like they couldn't have possibly been there for more than a few hours, in those same scratches there were parts that looked like they had occured and healed long ago, much like a scar. How could this be? Parts of a wound be fresh and just recently opened, but parts of that same wound be opened, healed and scarred over long ago, or at least appear to have been that way? How? Was it a new set of wounds placed over old wounds? Or was it old wounds that have been reopened in some spots? Or something else entirely? Maybe. The second peculiarity the whore noticed was the expression on Edgar's face.
"Look," she said to her fellow whores, "Do you see how his eyes are shining like that?"
"So."
"What's with that? Its strange!"
"Yeah, he seems to be mesmerized or hypnotized or something!"
"But, how could he be? Hes dead!"
Edgar heard the voices of at least three whores discussing the expression on his dead face.
"Well, I don't even believe in that hypnotism and mesmerism bullshit!"
"Still. His eyes. Just. There's something about the glow in his eyes and the look on his face that's a bit strange."
"Whatever. Who cares. Hes dead."
The three whores walked away from Edgar's dead body, walked out the door of the brothel, and went out for a cigarette break.
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