hey the pics are rad . draw me draw me hehe.

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A mildly irritated audience
Murmurs and moves impatiently.
A tap of the baton silences
The entire crowd, immediately.

A soft whimper of a young mans heart
Resonates through the crowd.
Lower voices follow with him
Their strings humming aloud.

A pause.

The sound carries in the air,
The people raise their hands,
Applause ensues, without a care
An irritated murmur expands.
The sound of a giant's march,
Pulsate to the beat of a drum,
Giving no mercy to the crowd,
The conductor waves them on.
Lo and behold, a new King,
Marches into the hearts of the audience,
With a trumpet of the french horns,
The auditorium hums with resonance.

And slowly, it fades.

The conductor takes a bow,
Applause and praise echoes,
The crowd is pleased.

But only the conductor knows,
That his piece is never finished.

__________________
They know no other life but this,
From the cradle they are claimed...

Hello again. Yes, another story. I'll put it up bit by bit. This is a mix between V for Vendetta and Dispensational Truth/The Book of Revelation. Don't post here if you want to complain about biblical/religious references, this is fictional and it is your choice to read it. Thanks for playing.



August 21st, 2025.

The so-called "War on Terrorism" is at its peak. Had we listened to the numerous threats in 2022, the main targets they threatened to attack would have been left unharmed. Washington D.C, New York City, London and Sydney are destroyed in a single day, within a span of six hours.


September 1st, 2025

The President of the United States, the prime ministers of Australia and the U.K and several smaller European allies call a meeting to wage war against Northern Korea. Tens of thousands are declared dead as a result of the attack, and a few hundred thousand are left injured.

September 5th, 2025

War begins.

This was history, just as the world knew it. Scholars claimed that this was the end of the world; only to find it was the beginning of something more endangering. As war waged on for three more years, the dictatorship of North Korea surrendered to U.S forces. Each leader of North Korea was executed soon after, and the cities had to pick up the pieces and start again.


Twelve years after the war, new cities were rebuilt. New technologies were used. Hydrogen became a replacement for oil based fuels, and scientists discovered a way to break the laws of physics to produce energy. Perpetual motion machines were installed, and gave free, harmless energy to the cities. Mankind grew empathetic towards each other, and countries forgave each other. One by one, the barriers of religion, race, gender and culture began to crumble. The world became more diverse than ever.

A team of scientists had invented a new technological device named “Thought Wave”. This was a device that was installed into the cerebrum through a surgical process, which could access the main points of your mind. Your thoughts could be transferred to a particular code, then into fluent English. The device could be set to translate speech- another barrier being broken. Thoughts could be sent to one another, but never read without permission. It had access to the Central Nervous System, which could regenerate broken nerve cells and send pulses to muscles and nerves of immobile limbs. This gave a guaranteed cure for quadriplegia. Technological advancements surpassed modern medicine much greater than ever before. It was at this time, that the world was at peace with one another, and man no longer felt a need to fight. This was the ultimate utopia.

However, it was at the time that the United Nations declared new laws for the world to live by, so that "the world can stay at peace with one another". At this stage, most of the barriers between countries were separated. It seemed odd that by this time, nobody could spot the flaws.

The world agreed to have one leader for Earth. The United Nations agreed to the idea, and debated. For months, leaders of each section wanted the perfect candidate. They wanted a leader with intelligence and a mind that escaped his or her wallet. A young man of 25 years, new to the United Nations council, rose forward. His name was Henry Malorum. He was charismatic, idealistic, witty and had far more intelligence than most, if not all of the Council. He had quoted from the Bible many times in his speeches, and used the scripture to start his inspirational speeches. Men of all religions agreed to his speeches, regardless of what they believed. He spoke love, but behind the young face stood something much darker.

After a long meeting, three men from different countries confronted him. In their briefcases stood scriptures against his ideas, the underlying truth of what he had in mind for his "beloved planet". A man looked to another and whispered "Il a diable au corps. Cela va sans dire, monsieur." The listener gave a quick look to Malorum, and then looked back. "I can handle this, Pierre. Justice will come to him soon."

The English speaking man paced to Malorum. "Ah yes, just the men I want to see" Malorum chimed, giving a sharp, wounding smile. His smile dropped slowly. "Tell me why you find my ideas of eternal world peace, a guaranteed way of keeping society in one order, an act of evil?" he said in a slightly taunting voice. The English speaker leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. The English speaker for the French representative cleared his throat. "Malorum, my president has reason to believe that your plans are closely related to the signs pointed in Revelation. We have reason to believe that you are..." He stopped.

Three suited men walked in slowly. "Ah yes" chimed Malorum. "I knew the smart ones would bring this up. If I am your supposed Antichrist, and you rose to power, will that make you an Antichrist in turn? Don't you want to have control of the world yourself?" he questioned. The French man, once having his speech translated, felt his face turn red. Malorum chuckled to himself. "Please, don't forsake yourself on my part. Le jeu n'en vaut pas la chandelle, oui?". The French man growled with rage. The third man, who sat on the sidelines of the language barrier stepped in. "Henry, your ideas are cold-hearted. I see right through you like a new sheet of glass" he snapped in a cockney accent. Malorum quickly nodded to the suited men. The men drew out a .45 each and pulled the trigger. All three men fell to the floor. Each had a hole in the back of the head, and blood began to spurt out from the holes.

"Indeed, I shall wipe out my enemies with my left hand, and draw the world against them with my right." He turned to one of the hit men. "Agents, this never happened. All you saw were these three shot in the back of the head." He walked to the desk that he sat in and smiled. "Oh, would you be as kind as to removing the bodies? After all, there has been enough blood shed in this room for one day" he crackled.

Three years passed, and still no resolve to who would lead. Theories between common men began to spread, and Malorum was far from an exception. Despite the rumour of the mill on his part, The United Nations agreed that his ideas were strong and guaranteed to work, regardless of how close they may be to the Book of Revelation. Christianity became a taboo religion in society, and hate crimes extended as far as killing in numbers.

Of course, the murderers were dealt with, but very lightly. Other religions were abolished, and many were exiled for being radical doomsayers in the country. Malorum said that “to kill the way they did was wrong- but, then again, a religion such as Christianity could not be fully accepted into a society that begged for peace.” Christians were outraged by such words. Religions such as Hindu, Islam and Buddhism were seen as ridicule. This was no longer a free thinking, multicultural and diverse society. This was now an atheist society, founded by new age cult ideas. And it worked.

A small group of trained assassinators knew this was not right. Men were hand picked by the people, and given the cold hand of the process of elimination. They all knew that this was a man that would become the leader of the world, and wanted nothing more than diversity. What was once a Utopian society turned to Anti-Utopia, in the form of a few simplistic ideas from an intelligent soon to be leader. And it was time to fight it, even if it would cost them their lives.

__________________
They know no other life but this,
From the cradle they are claimed...

Wow, that's really quite good. I'm not one for handing out good or bad criticism because I just don't know where to start, or how to say it properly. But I do know when I like something, and when it's got my interest. This story seems like it's going to have some very interesting plots and all that jazz. Let me know when you post the next part.

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Chapter Two - Vox Populi, Vox Dei

Help- I'm falling, I'm crawling
I can't keep away from its clutch
Can't have it, this habit
It's calling me back to my home...

Lupe, a hunter of about 23 years of age, sat down on an old stone block. That was as close to comfort as an underground dweller could get. He remembered that day... the "clearance". He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment remembered the home he used to live in. He was only ten years of age, and had a nice house. He could remember people avoiding him and his family, but it had grown on him so much that he didn't give it a second thought. He used to ride his bicycle down the road. He was a paperboy, but received very little pay. Without the mark of Thought Wave, he had no right to purchase. His boss, Mr McGregan was a sympathiser. He believed that targeting a religion the way Malorum did was an act of evil, but kept that to himself and Lupe of course. He paid him a little, and gave him food to tide over the poor boy.

He would ride back home, right after the sun peeked its forehead over the horizon. If he was lucky, he could avoid the taunts. On some mornings, neighbours spat on him and threw fruit at him, yelling "Scum!" to him. The influence that Malorum gave was so brainwashing, that people forgot their morals and love for their neighbours. Mr and Mrs McKeenan used to be friends with Lupe's adopted parents, and often came over for a cup of coffee. And now, here they were, throwing bricks at their battered house, tearing out their fruit trees and vegetables and taunting them. Such hatred from a neighbour! Lupe used to think.

And then, the night came. A large group of Malorum followers carried sticks blazing with fire. Guns were strapped to their belts and backs. Knives gripped in their cold, calloused hands. His parents could hear the chants, the angry and drunken slurs of the crowd. Lupe peeked out the window, seeing the men from a fair distance. He ran to his mother's bed. "Mummy?" he whispered, tugging at her hand. She woke up, bleary eyed and weak. "Yes darling?" she mumbled. Lupe looked at her with confusion and innocence. He felt no worry, since he didn't know what was happening for sure. "Mummy, there are scary men at our window. They have fire!" Lupe's mother gasped and raced out of bed. She peeked out, only to see them setting fire to her beautiful shrubs. She gasped and shook her husband. "Trent! Trent, for the love of god, wake up!" she wailed, tears streaming down her face. "Lupe! Quick... go find some food. I want you to hide" she begged. Lupe did not understand her, but understood the fear in her voice. "Mummy?! What are they doing?" he asked innocently. She gnashed her teeth and looked through her drawers. His father was in his clothes, holding onto a few essentials. "Darling... I'll be okay. I will see you soon, okay?" she trembled. "Right now, I want you to run. Please... go, just GO!!!" she screamed. Lupe nodded and ran out the back door.

They dropped their blazing sticks at the front of the house. Men threw 45 proof alcohols to the fire, cheering as the fireball started to surround the house. Both of Lupe's parents moved to the back of the house. The father embraced his wife and kissed her. "It looks like this may be the end for us both, my dear" he said to her. Both wept gently. A brick hurled through the window, denting into the floorboards. The mother leapt and squealed in fright of the brick. They tore through the window and cursed. Two men, reeking of alcohol took the mother and breathed down her neck. "Why hello, my pretty" they snarled, chuckling in their drunken stupor and perverted thoughts. She spat in their eye. The man on the left punched her in the jaw. The father, held back by some men yelled "No! NO!" at each attack to her. Lupe sat in the back yard, watching through the window, sobbing.

"Whaddya fink we should do with this fine lass, huh?" breathed one man. The other chuckled and molested her. She wept fearfully. The father grunted and groaned, trying to slip his way out of the meaty hands of the drunken men. "Please, for all things good and holy... do not harm her" he pleaded. The men chuckled. An adolescent, drunken with hate and rage took his pitchfork and raised it to the father's chest. "We can do as we please," he said. He knocked him in the temple with the handle. As he fell, the men laughed and kicked at him. His ribs began to split and snap inside of him. The mother wept, hearing her husband's painful cries and weak pleas for mercy. "Please" he wheezed. "Kill me... but... don't... touch my... wife..." A bulky man, 6 foot tall and coated in tattoos, took a shovel. "This ought to finish him" and struck the sharp end of the shovel to his neck. He was instantly decapitated.

Lupe, in utter shock of this, nearly screamed. He was so afraid of the men, that no sound could come out from his mouth. The mother screamed at the horror of her husband's death. The men struck her at the back of her neck. She fell forward. They taunted her and laughed at her. "You ugly bitch. Who here thinks its a cold night?" a gang leader yelled. She gasped as they cheered. They took her by the arm, tying her to a beam on the front porch. "Time for a nice little bonfire!" they slurred. They lowered the torches to the beam. She began to scream as the flames caught onto her legs. The pain was unbearable, her body jolting and bursting internally. She screamed as her insides began to cook, blood dripping out slowly from opening wounds. After twenty minutes, her life came to a painful end. Lupe, hearing his mother's cries, wept gently. "Mummy..." he sobbed. The men cheered as the house began to burn more so. "Now... where's the little runt?" one grunted. He heard footsteps. He began to run, he had to run.

He climbed over fences in the neighbourhood. Men could hear his tiny footsteps, and feebly threw rocks and shot to him. He ran to the street alleyway, a sense of frustration and hurt overbearing him. However, his instinct and persistency told him to keep running. He ran for what seemed like hours, the men giving chase for nearly forty five minutes. Due to their drunken stupor, his speed and the blinding light of the sunrise, he managed to escape with minor wounds and splinters. However, much more had damaged him. He was now a mute. The shock of a near death, his parents being killed brutally and his life ruined froze his mouth shut. Besides, he thought to himself. Nobody will speak with me. I'll be killed before I could speak.

Lupe lived for five years in the middle of an uninhibited woodland. He taught himself how to hunt, fight, gather and start fires. At times, people would look around for a stray stallion, or an animal that they could shoot. Lupe often robbed those men of either their weapons, their food or... even in desperate times, clothing. He had many kinds of weapons, but most of all was a prized compound bow. He used to use trees as target practice, and after some time became well adjusted to this. He moved from trees to animals. He never killed for the sake of it, but rather so he could live. He had a few skins of animals, and only wore them during the winter. He lived in an abandoned bear cave for a long time.

However, his way of life halted for a while. A group of scraggy looking folk took pity on him. He wouldn't speak to them, since he hadn't said a word in just over five years. He willingly went with them into the underground, after a few days of convincing him that they too, were not men who would cause harm, but rather were being harmed. They took him to a stone and pushed it to one side. A small opening revealed itself to a long, dark and winding tunnel. The men blindfolded him, in case he was a spy from the various Malorum followers. Once his blindfold was released, a massive underground room full of outcasts stood before him. A man came up to him with a strangely comforting smile. He was in rags, stunk of moist dirt and looked like he hadn't bathed in clean waters for years. His name was Reverend Michael, the same reverend who spoke at his old church. He and a team of men found this tunnel and worked on building an underground community.

He was taken under the wing of Reverend Michael for years, being taught about the scriptures in the Bible almost every day. Even after a year, he could not speak, no matter how much persuasion and pleading was given.

One day, foreign men came to inspect the tunnel. A child of three years of age could not stop crying. He was in pain from a sprained ankle, and the mother tried to calm him. Lupe, under so much stress, turned to the child. "Hush, child" he snapped. This mute sixteen year old had broken his silence, only to start the silence of another child. The child hushed, obeying him. After ten minutes, the foreigners left the cave. The people in the cave thanked the Lord that he could speak, and asked him many things. He spoke timidly, but opened up to the Reverend with ease. He told him the story of his parents, the way he lived before he was taken in. The reverend listened, the story jumping from funny to sorrowful throughout.

Lupe shed a tear and sniffed. He flipped his scarf over his shoulder and stood up. The room was so damp and moist. To a normal person, the moisture could almost flood a person's lungs, but to Lupe, it was fresh air. He hadn't stepped outside very often, but when he did, the air was breathtaking. A young girl, roughly 20 years of age walked into his room. She had long, flowing brown hair, green eyes and was roughly 5"7. Lupe smiled at her, stood to his feet and walked to her. She held him in a soft embrace and kissed him. Her name was Alexis, an experimental reject of the Thought Wave mind control experiment.

__________________
They know no other life but this,
From the cradle they are claimed...

I made a portrait. This be a friend of mine.

__________________
They know no other life but this,
From the cradle they are claimed...

Awesome!

Digital painting is the best!

You have a Wacom right?

Yeah, I use a cheapie graphics tablet. For its price, it wasn't too bad. It definitely gets the job done!

Photoshop CS for the win.

__________________
They know no other life but this,
From the cradle they are claimed...