Information

Winston Churchill has a minion!

Gage Creed the Necrovive

Winston Churchill
Legacy Name: Winston Churchill

The

Graveyard Feli
Owner:

deadly

Age: 13 years, 10 months, 3 weeks

Born: June 8th, 2010

Adopted: 12 years, 10 months, 1 week ago

Adopted: June 22nd, 2011

Pet Spotlight Winner
April 26th, 2013

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 11
Speed: 11
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 3
Books Read: 3
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Towel Folder

http://subeta.net/pets/Gage Creed two souls have now become sour.

Sometimes, dead is better.

Name: Winston Churchill
Alias: Church
Owner: Ellie Creed
Age: Unknown

My owners, the Creed family, had moved to a new home in Ludlow, Maine, where the five of us lived peacefully for a while. The property was large with plenty of room to poke a nose in here or explore a suspicious bit of grass there. Up on the edge of the property was a small pet cemetery, mis-spelled on the sign as pet sematary, that was kept up by the neighborhood children.

The humans seemed to dislike the area, but it didnt bother me particularly. I had enjoyed exploring the land and did so often. However, one day, when crossing the street, a truck informed me that my nine lives had been used up. Too bad Louis wasn't taking care of me like he promised. Ellie would be so upset if she knew...

Louis and his dear friend Jud had carried my corpse through the pet semetary and into the woods beyond where the evil spirits of the Micmac Indians whispered unholy things to those who dared to venture through. They sang songs that captured your soul and bade you to listen whenever they wished to speak, to order you about. Even in my death, I could feel the evil coursing through my body, feel the terror in Louis.

I could feel them inside me, keeping my corpse animated, but my mind resisted. It couldnt comprehend the changes my body experienced, and rewired itself to make sense of the situation.

It took me a bit, but I soon realized what my adjusted mind was thirsting for: blood. To have the sweet, pungent taste rolling down my tongue and throat in thick, gloppy drinks. Once I had this purpose instilled, I left the burial grounds and went out to satisfy this craving.

It was insatiable. Time after time, the crunch of bones, the small squeak of life leaving the body, the flesh tearing away, it was always exquisite. And I always wanted more. Not for food, mind you, but just so I could savor that feeling of life being crushed within my jaws and under my claws. Jud couldnt stand the smell of me and reminded Louis that I stank of the ground he buried me in. And each day, the evil within became stronger, the smell more rancid.I wove in and out of my owners home still, but ignored their attempts to play. They were never as satisfying as the kill, and served only to interfere.

One day, several months after being in this condition, I smelled something from Juds house. Something I could pounce on and play with. Sneakily, I wandered over, not wanting to surprise the prey and lose it. Creeping through the house, I first encountered Louis. He waved a bloody, raw steak in front of my eyes and tossed it to the side. The thought of other prey left my mind, and I pounced and sank my fangs greedily into it.

As I chewed, a small sting bit into my backside, and as liquid poured into my veins, consciousness slipped from my mind. I could hear Louis utter the words "we are going to bury him once and for all now".

Go on, lay down, play dead, be dead!

They stopped usingthat burial ground when the groundwent sour...

under the arc
of a weather stain boards
ancient goblins and warlords
come out of the ground
not making a sound
the smell of death is all around
and the night when the cold wind blows
no one cares and nobody knows

follow Victor to the sacred place
this ain't a dream
i can't escape
molars and fangs
the clicking of bones
spirits moaning among the tombstones
and the night
when the moon is bright
someone cries
something ain't right.

the moon is full
the air is still
all of a sudden I feel a chill
victor is grinning
flesh rotting away
skeletons dancee
I curse this day
and the night
when the wolves cry out
listen close
and you can hear me shout
i don't want to be buried
in a Pet Sematary
i don't want to live my life again.

A man grows what he can, and then he tends it. Because what you buy, is what you own. And what you own, always comes home to you.

Credits:
Overlay- Jelly
Story- twocents, edited by me.
Minion Overlay- User not found: nyvora
Song Lyrics - The Ramones