Shadows and Sunbeams .:On Hold:.

Follia

This is SPARRRRTTAAAAA!

Sorry, I just don't know what to put here. :)

Anywho, be sure to rate, comment, vote, the like. Bla bla bla.

If there's any tutorials on drawing a typhlosion's foot, that would be greatly appreciated.

I'm gonna shut up now.

Y'all come back now, ya hear?

By the way, the title means MADNESS in italian. Italian is a really pretty language. :)

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     She slowly walked up the stairs to her boss's home, and adjusted her glasses. Knowing how cold he always had his home, no matter the weather outside, she pulled her green cardigan over her soft white t-shirt in attempt at making herself look professional and to stay warm. She tugged a curl back into place, and nervously knocked on the door.

     Nothing.

     She waited for some sort of crash, or footsteps, but there was nothing. She huffed in anger. Surely he wouldn't be out doing errands or something, or atleast, not without telling her. It was a big event when the introverted man left his home. She tried to peer through the keyhole, and thought she was something lying on the floor. She facepalmed, practically ruining her overabundance of make-up. He fell asleep on the floor again! She knocked harder, almost chipping one of her french-manicured nails, and suddenly the door opened, and stayed ajar.

     Now that was unusual. He never left his house open to others. He was always paranoid about someone breaking into his home. Living in an upscale town n New York City, he had every right to be frightened. If one listened closely, the sounds of the city that never slept were the screams of multiple people being mugged. She, of course, was used to it, having grown up in the Big Apple, but when he first came, a nervous little man, he was so terrified of the city that he had a record of 20 locks on his door, and it remained a mystery how exactly he managed to do that.

    She slowly walked into the dark room, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking. She shivered and clutched her arms in the cold room. She looked for another jacket, but this pitiful cardigan was the only thing she brought. Shivering in the dark room,she started groping the wall in search of the light. Her eyes had not adjusted to the gloom. she flipped on the light and walked over to arouse her sleeping boss.

"Sir?" she asked, bending over and being careful to keep her knee-length skirt in a modest position. She never thought of him as a pervert, but she was a modest woman. She did not appreciate oglers. She remembered in high school a guy said she was hot and she smashed something about the size of a Bible (if it was not a Bible) on his head. she shook the body gently, and heard something like two wet fabrics being pulled apart. She shuddered, hating that sound.

"Sir!" She flipped him over and screamed for all she was worth. The other side of him was gone! It was a bloody mass of pulp! The arms were but empty shells of skin and a little bit of blood. His ribs were picked clean, but various internal organs were left behind, like the kidneys, liver, and spleen. She kept screaming as she saw his face... or rather... what was left of it. His throat had been gauged out by what looked to be dog teeth, but his face was perfectly intact. His expression was perfectly intact. She reached for her phone in a flurry of movement, panic making her dizzy. This wasn't happening! This was a bad dream! This was the guacamole dip she'd shared with him last night!

"9-1-1... What's the number for 9-1-1?!" she, in her panic, had indeed forgotten the  one number one should never forget. punching in the operator, which was 0, and asked to be directed. "No, it's not a joke!" she yelled into the phone, half hysterical. luckily the person on the other end directed her to 9-1-1, where she relayed the information, barely able to talk, barely able to think. She hugged her knees while on the phone. Despite protests, she ended up hanging up, and found herself alone with the body.

"This can't be happening.... why is it happening to me? I never thought..." She traced her mind back, trying to figure out if he had any enemies. She tried to remember if he had any friends besides her. He never even mentioned his family! Surely he had family, right? Was he some sort of black sheep? Normally those were rebels, right? He wasn't the type to rebel. He was the type to hide in a little corner and hope he wasn't seen and to simply turn invisible, a regular wallflower.

     Suddenly, her mind clicked to the big press conference. There was that man, that doggish rogue, that had dared interrupt the professor! That radical must be the one! He'd be the only one who'd ever want to kill her boss! She got up in rage, cursing that creep, whoever he was. If he ever showed his face again, she'd eat him alive, just like he probably did to her boss! How dare he!

    She was gone before the police and ambulance ever made it to the professor's house.

    She grabbed the prophecy and ran. She was lucky that creep didn't steal it. If this was what made the creep so mad, she'd kill him with the rock it was on! She'd smash his brains in! She got into her porsche and drove away with a little squeal of the tire. As she drove through the streets, her rage boiled over. She'd find him and kill him. Forget the police. Forget the FBI. She could do it herself!

    She opened the door with a loud bang and ignored her cat's meow of greeting as it looked up from her apartment's couch. She grabbed her wallet, as she normally left it at home as to ignore any window-shopping temptations, and stuffed it into her purse. She walked into the bathroom and ran a comb through her blonde hair and looks in the mirror. The place under her hazel eyes was swelled with tears. She frowned and applied a fresh slather of Avon, grabbed random toiletries, and stuffed them into a bag that would clash with anything. She stuffed this bag into a large suitcase, and in this large suitcase was a myriad of clothing.

      "Come on, Mira. We're going bounty hunting!" she declared, the anger temporarily displacing her sorrow. She picked up the cat and put in into a cat carrier, while it mewled angrilly in protest. Closing her suitcase and the cat door, she picked them up and started for the door. With a final lock, she glared into the noontime sun.

"I'll find you, random creep from the press conference."

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BAHAHA.

I have absolutely nothing to say. So we have a new character after our little addlet buddy. Someone who is rather... mascufeme. XDDD How will this turn out folks?