Improved the writing quality a little.
← Older revision
Revision as of 12:35, 31 August 2013
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The man
could not
have been
more
than thirty, yet he had a look of world weariness more appropriate for someone twice his age. He reached into his holster, and pulled it out: a small revolver, silver barreled and
black
-handled. It seemed unexceptional,
until
I
noticed
the Brand, a small heart with a crown over it, on the bottom of the black handle. Suddenly, I knew exactly what I was looking at.
+
The man
couldn't
have been
older
than thirty, yet he had a look of world weariness more appropriate for someone twice his age. He reached into his holster, and pulled it out: a small revolver, silver barreled and
ebony
-handled. It seemed unexceptional,
by all rights it looked to me like a normal sixer. But then
I
spotted
the Brand,
on the bottom of the black handle;
a small heart with a crown over it, on the bottom of the black handle. Suddenly, I knew exactly what I was looking at.
−
The man looked me in the eye, and spoke, his voice just as
world-weary
as his gaze. "Yes, this is what you think it is. The Suicide King, King of Hearts. The King always finds his subjects, the bullets go straight to the heart without error. But each shot carries with it more than force and death. Every
shot it makes
the world
seem
more barren and hopeless to me. The sky is darker, colors are duller, people become far greater
shit
in my eyes. Each
shot
makes existence seem more bleak and pointless, and makes me crave release. That's how it got it's name, boy, it steals your will to live. I don't know how many more fights I've got in me,
before
I inevitably fall, and some fool claims
the King
for their own. But I will not be gunned down by a rival or an enemy. No, when it has sapped my
will completely
, I will die by my own hand, and to me it will seem the sweetest moment of my life."
+
The man looked me in the eye, and spoke, his voice just as
tired and worn
as his gaze. "Yes, this is what you think it is. The Suicide King, King of Hearts. The King always finds his subjects, the bullets go straight to the heart without error. But each shot carries with it more than force and death. Every
time,
the world
grows
more barren and hopeless to me. The sky is darker, colors are duller, people become far greater
shitholes
in my eyes. Each
round
makes existence seem more bleak and pointless, and makes me crave release. That's how it got it's name, boy, it steals your will to live. I don't know how many more fights I've got in me,
you know? Before
I inevitably fall, and some fool claims
this crown
for their own. But I will not be gunned down by a rival or an enemy. No, when it has sapped
the last bit of joy from
my
heart
, I will die by my own hand, and to me it will seem the sweetest moment of my life."
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