Post by doom on Apr 3, 2010 19:12:28 GMT -5
JAMES LUCA SMITH
"...hi. I'm James Luca Smith, but a simple 'Jamie' would be nice. I'm 15, and trying desperately to learn how to play the cello. I was born on November 3rd, but I don't understand how that will help you. People think I'm strange, and I tend to eavesdrop a lot (and my attention span is around 4 seconds, so it doesn't really hurt anybody). Usually, others tend to stray away from me, and I never knew why. But despite seeming like a loner (and having some shy attributes), I'm usually nice. It won't take much to make me smile. I'm quiet, and prefer not to talk (nor to start up conversations), and that contributes to my friend list. My mother says that it's because their afraid of me, that they're just homophobes. Would it also help to mention that I'm a homosexual? But why would anyone care? I also have a buddy. His name is Louis and he's with me wherever I go. I get confused a lot, and I am very random at times (and awkward, so very awkward). Right now, I love the color orange, whether it be an obnoxious neon version, or a pastel-like one. Tomorrow it may change maybe to a nice blue color. I like listening to classical music, and some kinds of metal. I don't listen to a lot of 'popular' music, but I'm content with my choices. I don't like people who think they know everything, and the kinds of people that think they can help me. I've dealt with enough of those before. School conselours usually tried to change my ways of life, and that resulted in changing schools. My mom thought they were creeps. I don't like blood, and it scares the life out of me. I do like people, it's just that they never give me a chance. I don't like to be lonely, it scares me too much. (oh yeah, and I'm a big baby. Nearly everything scares me.) People also say I think too much. I had a pretty normal childhood; nothing extraordinary happened. My mother raised me by herself, but that didn't change anything. I have not met my father, but I do know he was a good friend of my mother's and she never regretted me. We moved around a lot, and my mom couldn't keep a stable job. But that didn't stop us. She eventually got a job in Edgeville, and I've gone to the camp to learn how to play one of my favorite instruments."
hello, i'm doom, and i'm thirteen years old.
i've been roleplay for three years. i'm using Alex Evans.
he/she would be filed under a first trooper and her/his main instrument is the cello.
i found JBC through RPG Collection.
(First chapter of my OC's story)
The icy wind shook the trees, the old wood of the houses creaked, and the leaves flew in all direction. The full moon shined brightly, directing above a tombstone. The dirt was black and loose, tiny spiders crawling all over it. A deep rumbling was heard that seemed like it was coming from the center of the Earth. More creaking, but this wasn’t from the houses around the cemetery. A scratching sound came from the grave underneath the moonlight, a pop and then the dirt sunk in a little. More scratching sounds, then, finally, a hand emerged from the loose dirt. The dirt-covered hand was pale, casting an eerie glow around it. Its nails were long, and dark in comparison to the flesh. It pressed against a spot of steady ground, and the head of a young man came out. His eyes were closed, his hands wiping away the dirt from them. The young man opened his eyes, the irises light green flecked with deep red streaks. He grinned, his blood-caked red lips parting to reveal two pointed teeth where his canines should be. The man’s short hair seemed to be made of dirt, but he shook it off, exposing the dark red hair. He got out of his grave, and stood next to his tombstone.
“Thomas ‘Tom’ Matthews,” read the freckled man. A look of confusion swept over his face, and then he understood. This was his grave. “I’m dead? That’s not...,” he started, looking up at the moon, “...possible.” Thomas licked his lips, the taste of dirt and blood causing him more confusion. But then he froze. His eyes widened as his tongue found the fangs. No! He understood what had happened, memories flooding his mind. Samantha Brown bleeding from a wound, his sister joining the infamous neighborhood gang, his brother running away, Mystic found dead in her house, Samantha bleeding from a wound again, but this time he was holding the weapon. He gasped. They relieved him of answering his own questions of whether he was sane or not, but caused him immense pain. “Sam!” cried the man, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry...,” he sobbed. Thomas broke into loud tears, pounding his fist on the grey stone, punching every time he spoke, “No!”—punch—"No!"—punch—“No!”—punch. His hands were reddened and bruised, the soft flesh tearing open in some places.
He threw his head back and howled at the moon. The howl was mixed with cries of pain and it sounded as if he was in torture. Why? Why me?! he thought, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. He licked his hands, that helped a lot, but it made the red flecks in his eyes grow. Blood, I need blood....
Thomas looked around for a victim, he cringed. Not a victim, a donor, he thought. An elderly couple caught his eyes. The woman was holding a bundle of red roses, obviously here to place the flowers of a grave. He licked his lips, studying the two humans. Thomas could smell their blood easily, and hear their weak heartbeat, suddenly noticing that his senses were sharpened drastically. Their thin wrinkled skin showed their veins and arteries much too clearly. Both looked underweight and weak, as if they would just fall dead right there. Thomas stared at them for a second, but then he looked away. Even getting a little blood from them would surely kill the humans. I cannot kill innocent people. He sighed and held his breath, trying to resist his urges. Instead, he looked down at his grave. The moist dirt was thrown onto the hard-packed dirt next to his grave. That night he had awoken a...vampire.
He shook the thought from his head and looked around the cemetery for another...donor. It was empty, nobody, it seems, was there except the couple. But then as he was going to go over there, they left. Thomas cursed, and then sat down against his tombstone, starting to breathe again. “How could I die?” he whispered to himself. He couldn’t remember a thing about his death, and the only memories of his...human...life were the painful ones that he had suddenly remembered.
A twig being broken stopped his train of thought. He looked up suddenly and saw a girl walking across the dark ground. Tom stared at her for a minute, hearing the faint heartbeat, smelling the abundant blood. Abundant blood...what have I become? He shook his head, and looked back at the girl.
She didn’t look that much younger then him, maybe around seventeen or eighteen. The girl had dark skin, her curly black hair fell down to her shoulders. Tom stared, she was pretty. Her hair had white and bright red highlights in them. Thomas got up and started to walk toward her. He stopped in his tracks and shook his head. What should I do? This isn’t me. I’m not a vampire. I’m not supposed to urge for blood, he thought. Tom didn’t notice that the girl had turned around. His eyes widened as she looked at him. They stood there, staring at each other. Then, he took a step, and then another one. Tom stopped after a few more steps. Her dark amber eyes were as wide as his green ones.
She kept his gaze on him. The girl was wearing a black dress, a white jacket on her to keep her away from the cold. Tom suddenly thought of how strange he would look to her. He wasn’t buried in a suit, but in his favorite sweats. So very unorthodox his parents were. . . . Dirt covered his arms and clothes, his face must have been smudged with a layer of earth and his hair still had dirt on it. Thomas even appeared to be glowing. The girl then did something he hadn’t seen in a while, she extended her hand.
“I’m Amanda,” she whispered. Tom took her hand, it was cold. He flinched slightly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. He shook her hand. Amanda took a step closer; her head tilting back to look at him. The red flecks grew larger in his eyes. Tom took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, but he didn’t let her hand go. “I’m sorry, but do you mind...?” he asked, pulling her closer to him. “This won’t hurt a bit,” he whispered in her ear, and then he bit her neck.
The shriek of Amanda rang throughout the whole cemetery.
The icy wind shook the trees, the old wood of the houses creaked, and the leaves flew in all direction. The full moon shined brightly, directing above a tombstone. The dirt was black and loose, tiny spiders crawling all over it. A deep rumbling was heard that seemed like it was coming from the center of the Earth. More creaking, but this wasn’t from the houses around the cemetery. A scratching sound came from the grave underneath the moonlight, a pop and then the dirt sunk in a little. More scratching sounds, then, finally, a hand emerged from the loose dirt. The dirt-covered hand was pale, casting an eerie glow around it. Its nails were long, and dark in comparison to the flesh. It pressed against a spot of steady ground, and the head of a young man came out. His eyes were closed, his hands wiping away the dirt from them. The young man opened his eyes, the irises light green flecked with deep red streaks. He grinned, his blood-caked red lips parting to reveal two pointed teeth where his canines should be. The man’s short hair seemed to be made of dirt, but he shook it off, exposing the dark red hair. He got out of his grave, and stood next to his tombstone.
“Thomas ‘Tom’ Matthews,” read the freckled man. A look of confusion swept over his face, and then he understood. This was his grave. “I’m dead? That’s not...,” he started, looking up at the moon, “...possible.” Thomas licked his lips, the taste of dirt and blood causing him more confusion. But then he froze. His eyes widened as his tongue found the fangs. No! He understood what had happened, memories flooding his mind. Samantha Brown bleeding from a wound, his sister joining the infamous neighborhood gang, his brother running away, Mystic found dead in her house, Samantha bleeding from a wound again, but this time he was holding the weapon. He gasped. They relieved him of answering his own questions of whether he was sane or not, but caused him immense pain. “Sam!” cried the man, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry...,” he sobbed. Thomas broke into loud tears, pounding his fist on the grey stone, punching every time he spoke, “No!”—punch—"No!"—punch—“No!”—punch. His hands were reddened and bruised, the soft flesh tearing open in some places.
He threw his head back and howled at the moon. The howl was mixed with cries of pain and it sounded as if he was in torture. Why? Why me?! he thought, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. He licked his hands, that helped a lot, but it made the red flecks in his eyes grow. Blood, I need blood....
Thomas looked around for a victim, he cringed. Not a victim, a donor, he thought. An elderly couple caught his eyes. The woman was holding a bundle of red roses, obviously here to place the flowers of a grave. He licked his lips, studying the two humans. Thomas could smell their blood easily, and hear their weak heartbeat, suddenly noticing that his senses were sharpened drastically. Their thin wrinkled skin showed their veins and arteries much too clearly. Both looked underweight and weak, as if they would just fall dead right there. Thomas stared at them for a second, but then he looked away. Even getting a little blood from them would surely kill the humans. I cannot kill innocent people. He sighed and held his breath, trying to resist his urges. Instead, he looked down at his grave. The moist dirt was thrown onto the hard-packed dirt next to his grave. That night he had awoken a...vampire.
He shook the thought from his head and looked around the cemetery for another...donor. It was empty, nobody, it seems, was there except the couple. But then as he was going to go over there, they left. Thomas cursed, and then sat down against his tombstone, starting to breathe again. “How could I die?” he whispered to himself. He couldn’t remember a thing about his death, and the only memories of his...human...life were the painful ones that he had suddenly remembered.
A twig being broken stopped his train of thought. He looked up suddenly and saw a girl walking across the dark ground. Tom stared at her for a minute, hearing the faint heartbeat, smelling the abundant blood. Abundant blood...what have I become? He shook his head, and looked back at the girl.
She didn’t look that much younger then him, maybe around seventeen or eighteen. The girl had dark skin, her curly black hair fell down to her shoulders. Tom stared, she was pretty. Her hair had white and bright red highlights in them. Thomas got up and started to walk toward her. He stopped in his tracks and shook his head. What should I do? This isn’t me. I’m not a vampire. I’m not supposed to urge for blood, he thought. Tom didn’t notice that the girl had turned around. His eyes widened as she looked at him. They stood there, staring at each other. Then, he took a step, and then another one. Tom stopped after a few more steps. Her dark amber eyes were as wide as his green ones.
She kept his gaze on him. The girl was wearing a black dress, a white jacket on her to keep her away from the cold. Tom suddenly thought of how strange he would look to her. He wasn’t buried in a suit, but in his favorite sweats. So very unorthodox his parents were. . . . Dirt covered his arms and clothes, his face must have been smudged with a layer of earth and his hair still had dirt on it. Thomas even appeared to be glowing. The girl then did something he hadn’t seen in a while, she extended her hand.
“I’m Amanda,” she whispered. Tom took her hand, it was cold. He flinched slightly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. He shook her hand. Amanda took a step closer; her head tilting back to look at him. The red flecks grew larger in his eyes. Tom took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, but he didn’t let her hand go. “I’m sorry, but do you mind...?” he asked, pulling her closer to him. “This won’t hurt a bit,” he whispered in her ear, and then he bit her neck.
The shriek of Amanda rang throughout the whole cemetery.