Post by jethro eli robinson on Jun 28, 2012 15:31:18 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; background-image: url(http://i44.tinypic.com/34fb0ns.jpg);-moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; border: 4px ridge #7a9aa9, bTable][tr][cs=2] jethro eli robinson. thirty-one. male. october 7, 1982. tainted soul. | |
[rs=2] | LIFE BEFORE DEATH:  Birth to Twelve Months: Dishonor on you, dishonor on your family, dishonor on your cow! One to Seven Years: Torturing small animals, bedwetting, antisocial behavior. Eight to Sixteen Years: Torturing animals, bedwetting, fascination with fire, peeping, antisocial behavior. Jethro can recall every moment of his eighth birthday. It was a quiet affair, no friends for him to visit with and his mother resting in bed because of her illness. His only present was a small hamster with a wheel that never stopped rattling, even when the fat creature wasn't running. At one point, the young boy had to leave the house and visit his creek because of the annoyance the small sound caused him. Hardly audible to any other person that might have stumbled in, it annoyed him for some reason, filled him with hatred so strong his teeth clenched and his entire body tensed. He sat at his creek for nearly six hours that day. The swimming calmed his body; skipping rocks mellowed his thoughts; the sound of running water soothed him, a lullaby he had never had the glory of hearing prior. Perhaps one could say this was when the boy turned. Jethro returned home that night, humming an Elvis tune under his breath. Checking in on his mother, he saw her propped up, her eyes open and glazed over. A chill caused him to shudder. Walking over to his mother, he gently shook her. "Momma?" She didn't wake. Deciding against further interaction with whatever form of rest this was - and not particular eager to feel her wrath - he silently walked out and creeped his way along the halls. It was still a habit, even if he knew the monster was far away. He entered his room and quietly closed the door. At first the noise didn't bother him. The noise gradually became the Noise as the hamster continued to move his plump body in that damned wheel. Jethro attempted to rest but found it impossible as the Noise grew in intensity. Soon he was clutching his ears and curled into a fetal position on his bed. "Shut the fuck up!" He screamed, spittle flying from his lips. The rage filled his body again. He could feel the monster encouraging him. His small fists tightened and were drawn close to his body. Stalking out of his room, the boy made no attempts to hide his noise. He stomped into the kitchen and slung open the utensil door, spoons, forks, and knives flying onto the floor. Gripping the small butter knife he had always used to butter his rolls with, he then turned to walk back to his room. His eyes shifted around, attempting to get a glance of his mother. She was nowhere to be seen. This fueled the fire that raged in his heart. When he finally got to his room, the door of which seemingly miles away from the kitchen though it was only his mind causing him to perceive such, he quietly closed the door. The monster whispered to him that it was crucial he remained quiet. The curtains were drawn - not that it mattered, as it was dark as could be in the Kentucky summer at this time - and his door was closed. The Noise began its climb into intensity. Setting the knife on his bed, he walked over to the hamsters cage. "Come here, you son of a bitch." He grabbed it gently and even petted it, comforting it. This was definitely the point in which his innocence was drifting away. He scuffed his feet over to his bed once again and grabbed the knife. The monster told him to start slow, to make it last. Jethro shook his head, attempting to rid the images that began to flood his mind. But all he could hear was the sound that hamster always made. Goddamn that blasted Noise. He obliged with the monster's requests, gladly entertaining it. When he was finished and the monster was satisfied, finally subduing its self, the boy carried the hamster to its cage and disassembled the wheel. No more Noise. The creature lay lifeless as he picked up his earlier Elvis tune, keeping beat by the sound of his heartbeat. Blood pooled around the lifeless creature and the odd thing was? Jethro had actually enjoyed putting an end to the Noise. Seventeen to Twenty-one Years: Torturing children, bedwetting, fascination with fire, antisocial behavior. Twenty-one to Thirty Years: Murder and torture, bedwetting, fascination with fire, antisocial behavior. Thirty-one Years to Death: Antisocial behavior and swan song. LIFE AFTER DEATH:  Arrival: Alpha Year: Betta Year: Gamma Year: Delta Yea: Epsilon Year to Present Day: PERSONALITY:  bunch of information about your characters personality here. TRAITS:
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theo. fourteen. seven years. |