Soren rested the heel of his shoe on the edge of the table. Around him smoke swirled as the masses stuffed inside this particular bar roared. There was laughter, and cheers all around. People becoming comrades. The very thought of this made Soren sick. These people bore the weight of his existence, they stamped it on his forehead. As though their lives itself were proof he existed. This made Soren sick. Everytime he attempted to take a drink from his glass, noticing the beads of condensation Soren's fingers became numb and he could not enjoy the taste. Slowly he stood up with his head tilted down. Soren crackled his knuckles and quickly grabbed a nearby waitress by the face. Instantly she erupted in a pool of blood that poured all around his feet and soaked into the pine wood floor. His head still tilted down. There were cries of women and men alike, as a few tried to confront Soren. Though these meager men were fodder and he could easily anticipate their movements before erupting them in a sea of blood as well. The bar now stood empty and the smoke settled. Sitting back down, Sored picked up his glass and took a drink. Almost as though nothing ever even happened...
Mon Sep 14, 2009 9:03 pm