A picture says a
thousand words. Write them.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a
metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about
this picture.
Be sure to tag writeworld in your
block!
http://writeworld.tumblr.com/post/89568051941/writers-block-a-picture-says-a-thousand-words
Light bound him to this plane.
Light and energy matrices stapled to his frame kept him corporeal. His master
had done it both to trap him here and to release the shade from draining his
master’s life force to exist. But he still needed energy to live, if this caged
existence could be called living.
In some skeletal remnant or echo
of his life, he remained around the intersection of Seventh and Tells. He could
hide. Power down and lurk in the shadows. He didn’t rest, he didn’t twitch, he
didn’t need to move at all. Unless his master called him.
He waited...
Waited for a harried robotic
servant to pass within his grasp. Spider like, he moved silently to capture
them. And he was just as deadly. Nothing escaped him.
He drained them of their energy.
Tore them apart to get every last trickle. Thrust the tendrils of his dark
energy into every gap in their form.
He had no concept of pity or
appreciation of beauty. He took what he needed.
And as an extra, he also accessed
whatever information they carried; be it schematics of homes, offices and
neighbourhoods, information about the people they worked for, and any secrets
they had been told or witnessed. People tended to forget that their automatons
saw and heard everything. Even though they took more space in his memory banks
he stored a few images - mostly of families with blond hair. He didn’t know why
he did it.
He drained them of everything and
left them shattered husks.
Rumours started of a robotic
shade. They called him the Reaper.
~~~~
© AM Gray 2014
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