Swolligator
Butcher of the Sands
- 1,955
- Posts
- 15
- Years
- Age 33
- Syndicate HQ
- Seen Jan 30, 2017
Here is what I have got for now, enjoy! ^.^:
PS: Cause I'm an evil basterd, I deliberately made it very long. ;D
Edit the edit: I've done everything but the RP Sample, too tired tonight. Is good enough?
Name: Matthew Davis
Birthdate: August 11th
Gender: Male
Pokemon Spirit: Galvantula
PS: Cause I'm an evil basterd, I deliberately made it very long. ;D
Edit the edit: I've done everything but the RP Sample, too tired tonight. Is good enough?
Name: Matthew Davis
Birthdate: August 11th
Gender: Male
Pokemon Spirit: Galvantula
Spoiler:
Personality: Pessimism would be the root foundation of Matthew's entire being. Not something that he refers to directly, but rather explains as "realism". It's not the case that the worst case scenario is the first he thinks off, for he does think of better cases, but that most of the times, the scenarios turn out somewhat pessimistic; the reality of their situation. If they are going to die, then Matthew will freely make a statement that they will die rather than euphemise or twist words into a better sounding phrase than what their current situation is. To put it bluntly, Matthew is very blunt. A knife is a knife; and that is all it will be. If someone is annoying him, he will face them and tell them that they are annoying him, and often that he tells them to go away in not very nice ways. One thing that does get to him though is improper use of grammar and vocabulary of the English Language. People who speak or write in L33T, "gangster", or generally butcher the English Language he finds quite abhorrent, not holding back to point out their failures in speech and correct them. If people talked to him long enough in what he considers "butchered" English, then he will not hesitate to ignore them completely.
Lacking shyness means that Matthew is able to freely talk with strangers without all the worries caused by shyness. He finds it just as easy to make friends as it does to make enemies; many of these enemies stemming from his grammar correction of people. Although once befriended with people, Matthew finds it hard to keep many friends, as he ends up driving them away with his constant pessimistic "realism", grammar correction, or a multitude of his other bad traits. But it is the bad traits that make up a person, isn't it? Matthew actually prides himself on these bad traits and characteristics, finding beauty in negativity. Why be perfect when it is much easier and somewhat more fun to be imperfect? It seems somewhat hypocritical that someone like Matthew who supports being imperfect, attacks other people for being imperfect, but that's Matthew. Deal with it.
Hypocrisy is another of his more distinguished traits. Why not have fun setting double standards for others that you don't follow? Quite often he will do things that he berates others for doing for the hell of it and no particular reason at all.
Since Matthew seems like such a "man who provokes contempt" (Dictionary definition for a very nasty word) from all the bad traits, its time he had some good traits. Precision is something that Matthew is very adept at. He could find the needle in the haystack, colour right to the lines edge and not a millimetre over, dot all the 'i' and cross all the 't' in any form of writing. This precision for almost anything is most probably his best and worst trait. The better end of the stick is that he will finish something to the highest standard and precisely to measurement. On the other hand though, any small mistake or fatal flaw results in anger that destroys what he was working on, no matter how long he had spent on it and the beginning of it anew.
In his off time, Matthew quite likes to write, not just any writing, but prose, mostly in the form of an on-going and somewhat lengthy novel which he will often share written pieces from it with people nearby to get their opinion. The only problem with this is that he is always missing something, even when he has produced something looking complete, he will keep writing about it, editing it and trying to think of what is missing in it. Truth be told, the reason it feels unfinished is because Matthew does not know what he would do if he were to finish it; one of his greatest worries. He has been working on this master piece for years; any thought of finishing it long since banished from his mind.
In a fighting situation, Matthew is more of a deductive type. He will quite often sit back as often and possible as he can to watch his ally, analyse their movements and dictate what they are going to do next, their weaknesses, and their predictability. His eye for precision and the precise means that he picks up things quickly, but not always acts on them; waiting until the last possible moment to attack. If he does find himself in battle, he will do his best to evade in order to "read" his enemy. However, any distraction like a loud noise, a connecting hit, or a disruption of his thinking process can undermine his precision; throwing him off target and open.
History: Much of Matthew's personality is accounted for through his nurture. Brought up proper and in a state of wealth, Matthew was tortured by the hells and damnations of upper class society. Through the first five years of his childhood, he was subjected to the hells of a speech therapist, not because he had a speech impediment, but rather so that he spoke properly and fluently. His therapist came from Kanto, and so he grew up learning the Old Kanto Dialect whilst he lived with his parents in Ecruteak City. To this day, Matthew's speech makes him seem much older than he is; ripples from his early childhood teaching. His parents had this idea that he was to be brought up ideally and proper, and so much of his younger years were spent inside his family's mansion-like home with private teachers who taught Matthew a wide array of things. He always longed to be outside with the other children playing in the playground, but neither his parents nor his teachers let him outside the gates of the home and so he grew up playing by himself in the courtyard, surrounded on 3 sides by the house and the third fenced off by a red brick fence, high as to stop any wild Pokémon from crawling over top. Matthew hated his childhood, he saw no reason why he was to be cooped up inside the house while his two older brothers were allowed to attend school, and leave the grounds of the family homestead.
On occasions, he had asked his older brothers for help to get out, but both refused and treated him with distain and something consisting of a mix of envy, hatred and disgust. It was as if his whole family was in on some sick joke that revolved around him; one that he wasn't ever allowed to know; one that he would find out later and come to terms with. However being alone had its perks, Matthew spent much time up in the foliage of the giant oak tree that sat as the centre piece of the courtyard writing. For most of it, the writing was mainly fantasy; a dream of escaping the current reality and finding a better one. Other than that, it was his observation on things, mostly how everyone in the household seemed to treat him as if he was diseased. He never saw much of his parents at all, his father seemed to be self-condemned into his study, nose in a book all the time searching for something he could not find. His mother was nowhere to be seen; the mother who had given birth to him had died long ago, and the façade that took his mother's place was nothing more than a lie.
On his fifteenth birthday, or what he perceived to be his birthday since his family didn't celebrate his birthday, but rather a day of staring and whispering behind Matthew's back alongside mournful sorrows, Matthew was allowed to enter the wilds that was the cities. His father enrolled him into a local High School where he all of a sudden felt very small and fragile. His lack of social skills meant that he made very few friends, and his upbringing made it hard for him to be accepted with the school. So he decided to become the person he was today; an amalgamation of his childhood upbringing and what he had been like naturally. He made a handful of friends, not really having many longer than a year due to his somewhat awkward personality.
His break came three years later in his eighteenth year of living. Matthew had managed to make it through the three years of high school and graduation was fast approaching him. In a week he managed to get into countless fights, paralyze several of his fellow students, cause a school wide blackout and also cover the girl who had just turned him down, in a web of fine silk. He returned home sulking, only to be ushered in through the door of his house with urgency. He was directed to his father's study where for the first time in as long as he remembered, his father looked up from his book and spoke to Matthew.
Matthew learnt a lot about himself in those few minutes that he had alone with his father. To this day he even blames himself for his mother's death. His father retold Matthew the story of how he came to be, the Storm and any events that culminated up to this point in time. His father revealed the true nature of the PokeBall statue on his desk to Matthew, giving him the ball and instructing him to open it and break the seal.
In a single moment, not only did Matthew change physically, but also mentally. He now had a greater purpose to his life, and with his father's wishes and sorrowful tears, he departed the study, grabbing a bad full of items he might need and set off into the courtyard he had spent so much time in. At full pelt, he ran towards the red brick wall that split the estate from the growing forest beyond. With his new slightly heightened senses, he scaled the wall and out of sight, on his way to something much more bright; A Future.
Appearance: Before the transformation took place, there was nothing out of the ordinary about Matthew. He stood at just less than six foot, not tall yet not short either. He was never built to be very muscular, but he hid have a much defined body where his muscles were not overly large, but they were definitely there and visible. Unlike many of his male classmates, his fingers were long and slender rather than thick and stubby. The kind on hands that would be useful in doing careful work like pickpocketing or electronics, the latter he soon found a passion for. His hair had been a thick, kind of straw like, chocolate brown coloured and somewhat lengthy. Beneath his fringe hid a pair of green eyes, that would often lighten and darken, which unnerved many people. Due to his almost constant reclusion inside his family's house, his skin was fairly white; almost bleach white in some places.
After the transformation, subtle differences had crept into existence on Matthew's body. His eyes that had been an unsettling green now became blue, the iris' and pupils becoming slightly bigger too. His thick, straw like, chocolate brown coloured hair slowly began to be replaced by yellowy-blonde roots, his hair looking like he had just died it and the regrowth coming through. Soon his hair would be entirely the yellowy-blonde colour of Galvantula's skin. Two parallel purple lines now run from the base of his skull and down his back on opposite sides of his spine. Matthew has also noted that his regrowth and hair on his body, apart from becoming significantly lighter, was much smoother than it had been. Two small, purple indentations have also made an appearance on Matthew's forehead, although these go largely unnoticed.
As far as clothing goes since going on the run, he wears a pair of 32 inch Boot cut length jeans, black ankle socks and dark grey and black cross trekkers. He wears a white-striped black polo shirt covered by a black, faux leather jacket which remains unzipped. A plain black belt can be seen often hiding underneath the bottom of his shirt. He has a single labret spiked piercing in the centre and a pair of Chanel Sunglasses for men to hide his eyes. A pocket watch is attached to his belt on the left side as it hides in the left side pocket, while a fairly discrete pocket knife hides in the right-hand pocket. A backpack slung over one shoulder holds a variety of items.
RP Sample:
The final straw had been drawn, and for Matthew, it was to change not only his whole perspective on life, but his entire life altogether. He hadn't meant to have done what he did, it was completely out of his control. But it had happened. "Shit happens, Life goes on", had been his motto for so long, yet now **** had hit the fan and he was at the centre of it. Things had been going bad for a while now, and the last instance where he had covered, not just anyone, but the one person he actually had feelings for. She had been covered from head to toe in an inch thick web of fine silk. And it had come from none other than his own mouth. He mentally kicked himself as he sulked back home, shoulders hunched and head downcast. Even like this he could feel the citizens staring at him; their gazes drilling holes in his head. They knew he was different, as did Matthew, but now that he had unwillingly shown them proof, it just meant Matthew was worse off.
He ducked as a piece of fruit soared over his head, hurled from behind an open window. Matthew whirled around quickly to catch the culprit, but all he got was blank stares; it was if the whole town had it against him. He looked up into the sky; even it was overcast, threatening to rain down upon his solo parade. He continued on under the disapproving eyes of the citizens; and Matthew fought hard to not let it get to him.
"I'm sure they want to kill me", he thought to himself as he walked on, his house slowing coming into view. Within minutes he was in through the doors, lost to the gaze of the citizens in the city below. He let out a sigh, but it seemed as if he spoke too soon.
"Come with me," ordered one of his father's butlers. Matthew followed; obviously he had done something wrong to be summoned to his father's study and he knew exactly what it was about. He straightened up and groomed himself with his hands, removing hair from his clothing, patting the mess down and generally trying to improve his appearance for his father who would not appreciate the gesture at all.
Matthew stood before the big oak doors and let himself in. Sure enough, surrounded by a pile of books and huddled over his desk in the half-light, Matthews father ignored even his entrance into the study. Matthew was not addressed until he stood in front of his father and only then did his father look up.
Eyes swollen with tears and looking fairly under the weather, his father addressed him with a shaking voice, "Matthew… my son…"
"Yes father, what is the reason for you request of my presence before you?" With a straight back, he kept himself composed unlike his father, he would not bow to emotions, he stayed in complete control.
"I-I-I always knew that this day would come… I had always hoped I was able to forgive you, forgive myself before this was to happen, but alas, I was too late." A single tear rolled down his father's cheek.
"What is it, father?" Matthew repeated, not that he cared for his estranged father's emotions, but because he wished to know what his father wanted so he could get away as quickly as possible.
"Take this," his father handed Matthew a normal PokeBall, "this will allow you to become… your true form." He fell silent, "Over eighteen years ago, your Mother had an affair with another man that I knew nothing about. Till this day I do not know the entire details, but that the child she bore to this man was going to be important. Once your mother died on the hospital bed I knew that I needed to protect and raise you. Although I haven't been a good father, I have done what I could a man in my place could do."
That was when Matthew had enough. He stormed out of the study, running down the hallways until he reached his bedroom overlooking the courtyard. Still holding the PokeBall, he collapsed as a heap on the ground. What his father had said had hurt him deeply, Matthew knew that he had to get away from this hell hole and cursed himself for not trying earlier.
A plan crept into Matthews's mind, one that he could put into effect straight away. Emptying his backpack of its contents, he refilled it with items that would help him survive out in the wild, repel's would help him escape from wild Pokémon while a first aid kit, compass and pocket knife would help him to survive.
Living on the second floor had its perks; like Matthew's own, personal balcony. As a child he had often practiced climbing up and down from it for pleasure, and being only one floor above the ground meant that he could quite easily jump from it and not hurt himself.
He landed perfectly on his feet, and using the momentum from the landing, set off towards the back wall at a run. Butlers, maids, siblings all watched in awe from windows as Matthew launched himself from one end of the courtyard to the other, running at full pelt before jumping and making contact with the wall, pushing down and aiming up and over the fence.
The landing on the other side was slightly off and Matthew felt a slight twinge in his right ankle. Leaving his rational thought back at the wall, he ran full pelt into the forest beyond, adrenalin pumping through his system as he escaped from the hell hole of his childhood.
Lacking shyness means that Matthew is able to freely talk with strangers without all the worries caused by shyness. He finds it just as easy to make friends as it does to make enemies; many of these enemies stemming from his grammar correction of people. Although once befriended with people, Matthew finds it hard to keep many friends, as he ends up driving them away with his constant pessimistic "realism", grammar correction, or a multitude of his other bad traits. But it is the bad traits that make up a person, isn't it? Matthew actually prides himself on these bad traits and characteristics, finding beauty in negativity. Why be perfect when it is much easier and somewhat more fun to be imperfect? It seems somewhat hypocritical that someone like Matthew who supports being imperfect, attacks other people for being imperfect, but that's Matthew. Deal with it.
Hypocrisy is another of his more distinguished traits. Why not have fun setting double standards for others that you don't follow? Quite often he will do things that he berates others for doing for the hell of it and no particular reason at all.
Since Matthew seems like such a "man who provokes contempt" (Dictionary definition for a very nasty word) from all the bad traits, its time he had some good traits. Precision is something that Matthew is very adept at. He could find the needle in the haystack, colour right to the lines edge and not a millimetre over, dot all the 'i' and cross all the 't' in any form of writing. This precision for almost anything is most probably his best and worst trait. The better end of the stick is that he will finish something to the highest standard and precisely to measurement. On the other hand though, any small mistake or fatal flaw results in anger that destroys what he was working on, no matter how long he had spent on it and the beginning of it anew.
In his off time, Matthew quite likes to write, not just any writing, but prose, mostly in the form of an on-going and somewhat lengthy novel which he will often share written pieces from it with people nearby to get their opinion. The only problem with this is that he is always missing something, even when he has produced something looking complete, he will keep writing about it, editing it and trying to think of what is missing in it. Truth be told, the reason it feels unfinished is because Matthew does not know what he would do if he were to finish it; one of his greatest worries. He has been working on this master piece for years; any thought of finishing it long since banished from his mind.
In a fighting situation, Matthew is more of a deductive type. He will quite often sit back as often and possible as he can to watch his ally, analyse their movements and dictate what they are going to do next, their weaknesses, and their predictability. His eye for precision and the precise means that he picks up things quickly, but not always acts on them; waiting until the last possible moment to attack. If he does find himself in battle, he will do his best to evade in order to "read" his enemy. However, any distraction like a loud noise, a connecting hit, or a disruption of his thinking process can undermine his precision; throwing him off target and open.
History: Much of Matthew's personality is accounted for through his nurture. Brought up proper and in a state of wealth, Matthew was tortured by the hells and damnations of upper class society. Through the first five years of his childhood, he was subjected to the hells of a speech therapist, not because he had a speech impediment, but rather so that he spoke properly and fluently. His therapist came from Kanto, and so he grew up learning the Old Kanto Dialect whilst he lived with his parents in Ecruteak City. To this day, Matthew's speech makes him seem much older than he is; ripples from his early childhood teaching. His parents had this idea that he was to be brought up ideally and proper, and so much of his younger years were spent inside his family's mansion-like home with private teachers who taught Matthew a wide array of things. He always longed to be outside with the other children playing in the playground, but neither his parents nor his teachers let him outside the gates of the home and so he grew up playing by himself in the courtyard, surrounded on 3 sides by the house and the third fenced off by a red brick fence, high as to stop any wild Pokémon from crawling over top. Matthew hated his childhood, he saw no reason why he was to be cooped up inside the house while his two older brothers were allowed to attend school, and leave the grounds of the family homestead.
On occasions, he had asked his older brothers for help to get out, but both refused and treated him with distain and something consisting of a mix of envy, hatred and disgust. It was as if his whole family was in on some sick joke that revolved around him; one that he wasn't ever allowed to know; one that he would find out later and come to terms with. However being alone had its perks, Matthew spent much time up in the foliage of the giant oak tree that sat as the centre piece of the courtyard writing. For most of it, the writing was mainly fantasy; a dream of escaping the current reality and finding a better one. Other than that, it was his observation on things, mostly how everyone in the household seemed to treat him as if he was diseased. He never saw much of his parents at all, his father seemed to be self-condemned into his study, nose in a book all the time searching for something he could not find. His mother was nowhere to be seen; the mother who had given birth to him had died long ago, and the façade that took his mother's place was nothing more than a lie.
On his fifteenth birthday, or what he perceived to be his birthday since his family didn't celebrate his birthday, but rather a day of staring and whispering behind Matthew's back alongside mournful sorrows, Matthew was allowed to enter the wilds that was the cities. His father enrolled him into a local High School where he all of a sudden felt very small and fragile. His lack of social skills meant that he made very few friends, and his upbringing made it hard for him to be accepted with the school. So he decided to become the person he was today; an amalgamation of his childhood upbringing and what he had been like naturally. He made a handful of friends, not really having many longer than a year due to his somewhat awkward personality.
His break came three years later in his eighteenth year of living. Matthew had managed to make it through the three years of high school and graduation was fast approaching him. In a week he managed to get into countless fights, paralyze several of his fellow students, cause a school wide blackout and also cover the girl who had just turned him down, in a web of fine silk. He returned home sulking, only to be ushered in through the door of his house with urgency. He was directed to his father's study where for the first time in as long as he remembered, his father looked up from his book and spoke to Matthew.
Matthew learnt a lot about himself in those few minutes that he had alone with his father. To this day he even blames himself for his mother's death. His father retold Matthew the story of how he came to be, the Storm and any events that culminated up to this point in time. His father revealed the true nature of the PokeBall statue on his desk to Matthew, giving him the ball and instructing him to open it and break the seal.
In a single moment, not only did Matthew change physically, but also mentally. He now had a greater purpose to his life, and with his father's wishes and sorrowful tears, he departed the study, grabbing a bad full of items he might need and set off into the courtyard he had spent so much time in. At full pelt, he ran towards the red brick wall that split the estate from the growing forest beyond. With his new slightly heightened senses, he scaled the wall and out of sight, on his way to something much more bright; A Future.
Appearance: Before the transformation took place, there was nothing out of the ordinary about Matthew. He stood at just less than six foot, not tall yet not short either. He was never built to be very muscular, but he hid have a much defined body where his muscles were not overly large, but they were definitely there and visible. Unlike many of his male classmates, his fingers were long and slender rather than thick and stubby. The kind on hands that would be useful in doing careful work like pickpocketing or electronics, the latter he soon found a passion for. His hair had been a thick, kind of straw like, chocolate brown coloured and somewhat lengthy. Beneath his fringe hid a pair of green eyes, that would often lighten and darken, which unnerved many people. Due to his almost constant reclusion inside his family's house, his skin was fairly white; almost bleach white in some places.
After the transformation, subtle differences had crept into existence on Matthew's body. His eyes that had been an unsettling green now became blue, the iris' and pupils becoming slightly bigger too. His thick, straw like, chocolate brown coloured hair slowly began to be replaced by yellowy-blonde roots, his hair looking like he had just died it and the regrowth coming through. Soon his hair would be entirely the yellowy-blonde colour of Galvantula's skin. Two parallel purple lines now run from the base of his skull and down his back on opposite sides of his spine. Matthew has also noted that his regrowth and hair on his body, apart from becoming significantly lighter, was much smoother than it had been. Two small, purple indentations have also made an appearance on Matthew's forehead, although these go largely unnoticed.
As far as clothing goes since going on the run, he wears a pair of 32 inch Boot cut length jeans, black ankle socks and dark grey and black cross trekkers. He wears a white-striped black polo shirt covered by a black, faux leather jacket which remains unzipped. A plain black belt can be seen often hiding underneath the bottom of his shirt. He has a single labret spiked piercing in the centre and a pair of Chanel Sunglasses for men to hide his eyes. A pocket watch is attached to his belt on the left side as it hides in the left side pocket, while a fairly discrete pocket knife hides in the right-hand pocket. A backpack slung over one shoulder holds a variety of items.
RP Sample:
The final straw had been drawn, and for Matthew, it was to change not only his whole perspective on life, but his entire life altogether. He hadn't meant to have done what he did, it was completely out of his control. But it had happened. "Shit happens, Life goes on", had been his motto for so long, yet now **** had hit the fan and he was at the centre of it. Things had been going bad for a while now, and the last instance where he had covered, not just anyone, but the one person he actually had feelings for. She had been covered from head to toe in an inch thick web of fine silk. And it had come from none other than his own mouth. He mentally kicked himself as he sulked back home, shoulders hunched and head downcast. Even like this he could feel the citizens staring at him; their gazes drilling holes in his head. They knew he was different, as did Matthew, but now that he had unwillingly shown them proof, it just meant Matthew was worse off.
He ducked as a piece of fruit soared over his head, hurled from behind an open window. Matthew whirled around quickly to catch the culprit, but all he got was blank stares; it was if the whole town had it against him. He looked up into the sky; even it was overcast, threatening to rain down upon his solo parade. He continued on under the disapproving eyes of the citizens; and Matthew fought hard to not let it get to him.
"I'm sure they want to kill me", he thought to himself as he walked on, his house slowing coming into view. Within minutes he was in through the doors, lost to the gaze of the citizens in the city below. He let out a sigh, but it seemed as if he spoke too soon.
"Come with me," ordered one of his father's butlers. Matthew followed; obviously he had done something wrong to be summoned to his father's study and he knew exactly what it was about. He straightened up and groomed himself with his hands, removing hair from his clothing, patting the mess down and generally trying to improve his appearance for his father who would not appreciate the gesture at all.
Matthew stood before the big oak doors and let himself in. Sure enough, surrounded by a pile of books and huddled over his desk in the half-light, Matthews father ignored even his entrance into the study. Matthew was not addressed until he stood in front of his father and only then did his father look up.
Eyes swollen with tears and looking fairly under the weather, his father addressed him with a shaking voice, "Matthew… my son…"
"Yes father, what is the reason for you request of my presence before you?" With a straight back, he kept himself composed unlike his father, he would not bow to emotions, he stayed in complete control.
"I-I-I always knew that this day would come… I had always hoped I was able to forgive you, forgive myself before this was to happen, but alas, I was too late." A single tear rolled down his father's cheek.
"What is it, father?" Matthew repeated, not that he cared for his estranged father's emotions, but because he wished to know what his father wanted so he could get away as quickly as possible.
"Take this," his father handed Matthew a normal PokeBall, "this will allow you to become… your true form." He fell silent, "Over eighteen years ago, your Mother had an affair with another man that I knew nothing about. Till this day I do not know the entire details, but that the child she bore to this man was going to be important. Once your mother died on the hospital bed I knew that I needed to protect and raise you. Although I haven't been a good father, I have done what I could a man in my place could do."
That was when Matthew had enough. He stormed out of the study, running down the hallways until he reached his bedroom overlooking the courtyard. Still holding the PokeBall, he collapsed as a heap on the ground. What his father had said had hurt him deeply, Matthew knew that he had to get away from this hell hole and cursed himself for not trying earlier.
A plan crept into Matthews's mind, one that he could put into effect straight away. Emptying his backpack of its contents, he refilled it with items that would help him survive out in the wild, repel's would help him escape from wild Pokémon while a first aid kit, compass and pocket knife would help him to survive.
Living on the second floor had its perks; like Matthew's own, personal balcony. As a child he had often practiced climbing up and down from it for pleasure, and being only one floor above the ground meant that he could quite easily jump from it and not hurt himself.
He landed perfectly on his feet, and using the momentum from the landing, set off towards the back wall at a run. Butlers, maids, siblings all watched in awe from windows as Matthew launched himself from one end of the courtyard to the other, running at full pelt before jumping and making contact with the wall, pushing down and aiming up and over the fence.
The landing on the other side was slightly off and Matthew felt a slight twinge in his right ankle. Leaving his rational thought back at the wall, he ran full pelt into the forest beyond, adrenalin pumping through his system as he escaped from the hell hole of his childhood.
Last edited:
