The Artistic Minds

[bolmy]

Do you have an artistic mind? Do you write, or draw, or paint, or play music? If you do any of the arts, post something here so we can all share our creativity. I'll start:

The Assassin

To kill offered him a sort of sadistic pleasure he couldn’t get anywhere else, it was like a drug, he absolutely had to have it; just the thought of getting his fix curled his bloodless lips back in a cruel smile. His cold, heartless eyes pierced the darkness like a bullet through paper, nothing was hidden to him, a mouse moving in the undergrowth, an owl landing on a tree; nothing, it was impossible to hide from those eyes. He waited, waited because that was the only thing he could do, he couldn’t move for fear of being seen.

The forest behind the house was already obscured by the thick wall of rain that was marching relentlessly towards the house. He could hear it now, the steady hiss growing louder with every passing minute. A giant bolt of lightning streaked down from the sky, not more than a mile away from the house the lightning bolt struck a tree; it exploded into a ball of flame. As if answering the lightning’s call a massive crack of thunder boomed through the valley, shaking the rickety old house. Another clap of thunder like that and the house would surely collapse; it was a miracle it was still standing under the sheer amounts of water that was falling on its roof now.

Finally, a low rumble could be heard over the hiss of the rain, his victim was arriving, the lights momentarily illuminated the plateau, he cursed and prayed no-one saw him. He could hear the car splashing through puddles with all the grace of an elephant. He could make out the shape of the car now; he never let it leave his sight. Soon he would be able to see the driver, his victim.

He trained his sight on the right hand front door of the car, he followed it down the last two hundred metres of the road were it stopped in front of the house; his heart was beating faster than should have been natural. His target stepped out of the car and he squeezed the trigger, a blinding flash from the muzzle got the targets attention, he turned toward his killer on the plateau as the bullet slammed into his chest, knocking him backwards and silencing his cries.

That was it, his hunger had been satisfied. He slowly put his gun away in its case and moved off into the shadows to assume the identity of his normal self, not the man with bloodlust in his eyes.

And in a MASSIVE change in writing style, a love poem:

Words Cannot describe my love for you,
When the birds sing, they sing of my love for you,
When the wind whispers, it whispers my love for you,
When the silent roses think, they think of my love for you,
My love for you will never be forgotten,
For as nature goes about her work, she sings my love for you.

Your turn! (evaluate each others work aswell, all constructive criticism, or praise, will be accepted).

[Krusade]

Interesting work there.

I play guitar, mandola, keyboard and theremin I would post something if I had the means to record but I don't

[Tsar_of_Cows]

I used to draw comics from time to time based around an empire of cows from another dimension (hence the username).

However I simply stopped having the time and energy to sit down and draw them. I tried to revive my comics by throwing together two pilot episodes of a little something called "2D Heros" using Super Mario characters and Garry's Mod, but I decided it wasn't worth continuing.

I also at one point (I was about 12 and foolish) tried to write a novel, but I don't have the commitment or the sustained creativity for anything so demanding. Also, I'm a pretty piss poor writer when it comes down to it, especially of fiction.

[Netgeezer]

I play keyboard - electro-synth-classical sorta stuff, and a friend of mine writes songs. Together we are Electric Souffle'

Do you like the name? Its better than our music....