If you loose, the devil gets your soul [OPEN]

[|D| e a n s t e r]

^{I'M SLIPPING THROUGH THE CRACKS}

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The drake sat on the cliffs edge. His ipod glued to his hand. One song rang loudly in his auds, one of his favorites. It was "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" His skull bobbed at the rhythm and the sounds that were blasting through the head phones. He resisted to repeat every line of the lryics. He took a deep breath and inhaled all the scents that surrounded the werewolf. Suddenly to erge to sing came over him, and before he knew it, his voice carried out the lyrics. "The devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal. He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind: he was willin' to make a deal. When he came across this young man sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot. And the devil jumped upon a hickory stump and said: "Boy let me tell you what: I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too, and if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you. Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the devil his due: I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul, 'cause I think I'm better than you." The boy said: "My name's Johnny and it might be a sin, but I'll take your bet, your gonna regret, 'cause I'm the best that's ever been."

Slowly he began to swing his boots, and the tapped against the edge of the cliff in rythem. His hands drpped his ipod into his lap, and he lightly began to drum on his chest as he continued, his voice getting a little ouder as he did so. "Johnny you rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard, 'cause hells broke loose in Georgia and the devil deals it hard, and if you win you get this shiny fiddle made of gold, but if you lose, the devil gets your soul. The devil opened up his case and he said: "I'll start this show." And fire flew from his fingertips as he resined up his bow, and he pulled the bow across his strings and it made an evil hiss. Then a band of demons joined in and it sounded something like this. When the devil finished, Johnny said: "Well you're pretty good ol' son, but if you'll sit down in that chair, right there, and let me show you how its done."

The moon suddenly reveiled its self from behind a cloud. It wasn't completely full, but it would be in a day or so. Dean's green eyes wandered thier way up to the shimering sphere in the sky. A sudden urge to change hit him, but he just ignored it, and tried to focus on his song. "Fire on the moun, run boys, run. The devil's in the house of the risin' sun. Chicken in the bread pin, pickin' out dough. "Granny, does your dog bite?" "No, child, no." The devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat. He laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny's feet. Johnny said: "Devil just come on back if you ever want to try again. "I told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best that's ever been." And he played fire on the mount, run boys, run. The devil's in the house of the risin' sun. Chicken in the bread pin pickin' out dough. "Granny, does your dog bite?" "No, child, no.""

Suddenly the music stopped and it changed to a new song. A sigh escaped his kissers as he pressed skip.He sat there peacefully. Not really paying attention to the music anymore. It was just something in background now. His gaze swept the now woods beneath him. he couldn't help pu look back up at the moon though. It just seemed to be calling him, mocking him. How he was starting to hate it. He shut his eyes and dropped his head. Slowly his lids opened back, but his eyes were now completely pitch black. He pulled the earphones out of his ears, and turned off the ipod, then silntly slipped it into his pocket. With a sigh, he fell onto his back, his feet still hanging over the edge. His black eyes stared stright up at the cloudy night sky. If you loose, the devil gets your soul...

[|D| e a n s t e r]

^ bump ^
[ooc:]I thinks some should reply to this cause I say so....

[WE ♥ A+R+C+H]

l o l a - What if I stumble? What if I fall?

"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor - Shall be lifted---nevermore!," Whispered the woman, her round eyes bright with the intensity that had burned within her small frame. She was reciting an Edgar Allen Poe poem, the last line of the last stanza of The Raven that had haunted her thoughts and actions since she had read it at such a young age. It was the poem that had assisted Tim Burton in the creation of the short film, Vincent, the very film that Vincent Price, Burton's idol, had narrarated. She let out a soft smile. So much unused, uneeded knowledge that filled her brain. Tim Burton - the dark genious, the master of beautiful hauntings, the reason for the spine tingling that you feel when you see a Jack Skellington doll somewhere. When you cross the Bridge in Wetumpka, Alabama, you feel the wild-haired man's presence. Well, it did for this young woman. She was a step below Tim-stalker; like she had a problem with it.

A sly smirk spread across Lola's pale lips; her keen ears heard a male's voice near the cliff. "Devil went down to Georgia?" she asked herself, her eyes bright with a newly sparked curiousity. She searched the land for another soul, only to give up before she had seen him. Slowly, her feet dragged to carry her to the cliff. A dark thought spread throught her mind as she stared down - I wonder how many lives have been stolen from the pain and sadness of this world? How many have fallen from this cliff to their deaths? she felt herself wander. Her eyes surveyed her surroundings, imaging broken people tearfully jump from the edge purposely. She closed her eyes, wanting to force the visions from her head. So very vivid...

She sat down, then she realized that the guy was closr that she thought. She heard his sigh, and her eyes met his figure. "You can repeat the song," she murmured softly, enjoying his voice. She closed her eyes, and moved her head foreward. So many broken souls... So many deaths... So many more lifes destroyed...

She swallowed hard, fighting a solidary tear.

[|D| e a n s t e r]

^{I'M SLIPPING THROUGH THE CRACKS}

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His solid, onyx colored eyes seemed almost silver with the moonlight shining down on them. All his bones had that feeling that they needed to be cracked horribly, his muscles were tense and ached, his mind split. His senses were going hay wire, not being able to make up thier mind if there were staying human or not. His whole body wanting to change. Well, not his mind. His heart did the most though. With everythump it seemed to scream. Dean's hand went down on laid on his chest, directly over the big red organ. "Shut up..." He mumbled to himself, hoping that it would all just go away. He didn't want to change right now, he didn't need it. The moon wasn't even full! Why was he having these urgesd so strong? It was really just starting to piss him off. It felt like he wasn't under control of his own body. Everything seemed to squirm, the occasional painful crack would come from his back or leg. It as going to be a long night.

He slowly shut his eyes, his hands coming up to cover his face. His back still lay against the cold hard rock. He picked up his head slightly before slamming it back down on the stone. He was so fed up with everything lately. He wanted a drink, and a strong one. Sadly, he was out, and he was in no mood to go out driving. He blamed that Alex girl. It really wasn't even her fault, but he just felt like blaiming someone else right now, the it was being pinned on her. He scuffed though, thinking of the time he snuck the sixteen year old into a bar. She had started one hell of a bar fight. She had managed to get away with just a punch in the gut when Dean had been beat to hell. Ya, he was definatly going to blame her now for all his alchohol being gone.

Dean hadn't even noticed the girl as she had walked towards the ciff. He usually did, so naturally when she spoke, it startled him. He opened his eyes, and his hand slid down from his face and fell on his chest. He didn't look at her though. He could feel that his eyes were still solid black, and he wasn't in the mood for taking anyones shit. "Charlie Daniels' fan I take it?" His voice was kind of gruff singing, but it was always like that. He was surprised that she hadn't said that his singing sucked. He wasn't all that good. The only thing good about it was that it was kind of raspy when he sang. Without that, it would definatly sound horrid. He had never smoked a cigarrette in his life though, she he had no idea how his voice had gotten so raspy. He shrugged it off though, not really caring anymore.

He stared up at the moon for a long moment, staying silent. He focused on his body, mainly his eyes, and forced some will into them. The blackness slowly seemed to shrink to the center of his eye. As it got smaller, the white showed first, then the green iris, until his pupil was back to a normal size. Slowly he sat up and turned slightly to look over at the girl that had spoken to him. He flashed a sad little smirk. "Names Dean." He said, looking over at her.