((All of the following scenes occur in private unless otherwise and explicitly states. This is for OOC entertainment purposes.))

Jinx’ hand ran over the rough patch of skin which from his neck up to his jaw line. Mindlessly, he let his fingers travel back and forth with his green eyes set on the wall in front of him. Suddenly, his hand drops from his neck and rests upon the large leather chair’s arm. Breathing hardly escapes his lips as his brows furrow deep in thought.

Everything in the room was motionless except for the soft flicker of a candle which sat next to Jinx. His eyes darted to the flicker, staring at the flame of the candle as it burned atop a skull. Jinx brought his hand to the ground and looked to the skull with the candle atop of it. A half grin flashed on his face. It really was a great gift with so many uses. He’d have to send another thank you to Joki.

Jinx’ eyes moved from the flame to the skeleton hanging by its neck in the corner of the room. He stood from the ground, clasping either of his hands behind his back firmly as he walked. Jinx stopped before the skeleton and looked from the floor then back up to the hanging bones.

“Too many adverse affects you see,” Jinx paced the room a bit, glancing to look at the bones as they hung, “I do not think it would be prudent to continue my previous courses of action. Other means would be best.”

Jinx came to a halt in his pacing and then fixed his gaze on the hanging bones for a moment with a tilt of his head and a smile on his face. He swiftly turned on his heels to slide his wand out. His eyes worked down his wand slowly, inspecting each and every centimeter of it. He then presented the wand and flicked it once, mumbling an incantation. The wand would emit a flash of white and suddenly the visage of a faint wolf would appear.

The visage was translucent and contained no mass. Jinx walked to it slowly with a broad smile on his face. Slowly, he crouched to be face to face with the dum illusion. The image would flicker then disappear. Jinx’ eyes remained fixed where the beast once was. His voice would then break the silence again, his head turning to look at the hanging collection of bones.

“Oh yes, I do think other means would be best.”

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Problem?

The room was dully lit with the smell of old musty texts littering the air. The room a diamond. In the top quadrant of the diamond was a strip of carpet that stretched from just atop the middle tips all the way to the top. In a semi-circle, cushions were arranged atop of the carpet with candles on either end. Behind the semi-circle of cushions was a large skull resting on a curved pike. Candles rested on either side of the over sized skeleton, allowing the eerie shadows to dance along the ceiling and walls.

On the other half of the diamond in the corner hung a skeleton with a noose tightly around it's neck. To the immediate left of the hanging bones sat a pile of skulls which seemingly have been there for years before it's current occupant took ownership.

On either side of the diamond were large bookshelves which contained numerous texts. The books ranged from magical advanced magical theories all the way to muggle novels. The shelves were fully stocked with zero room for new additions. The several piles of books in the front of each of the book cases stood as testament for the over crowding.

Chains and shackles hung from around the room ominously. Ever foot or so another long strand of chains dangled. With the slightest gust of wind or movement by them, they would sound a ghostly clanking from their rusted joints rubbing on each other.

The flickers of candles continues to dance on the walls.

Suddenly, the room submerged into darkness being absorbed by an abyss of black. A cold chill would then fill the air. Then, as instantly as the light left it would return.

A white cube. The wand moved a bit.

The white cube would twist, transform and flicker. The whiteness dimmed to grey as pillars formed around the room. The room suddenly elongated to appear massive. Four hour glasses would appear on the side next to two doors. Each hour glass had it's own color. Blue, red, yellow, and green. The images flickered out. Darkness again.

The wand moved again.

In the darkness the visage of a person appeared still and non moving. The face was nondescript and the clothes blurry.

The wand moved again.

The face began to melt with the skin drooping off and melting in gobs. The image faded, shook, then dissolved. Darkness.

With a sudden rush light and the creek of rusted metal, the diamond shaped room appeared again. Soft tendrils of smoke would whisp up from the candles which rested below the statue, leaving the smell of the freshly burnt candle to roll over the room.

Jinx slid his wand back into his pocket. A satisfied smile crossing his lips.

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Problem?

He wasn't sure if it was reality.

There was a long hall way which he was in. It seemed to go on for almost forever. The walls oozed with an amber hued gel which crept slowly until it hit the stone ground. The floor was covered with what appeared to be fresh rain. If one would look up, they'd see nothing except a black abyss which seemed to stretch on. The only light in the hall was a very dim lit green light which seemed to be generally just glowing.

It appeared so crystal clear, so perfect it was almost shocking.

He blinked, trying to moisture his dry eyes. They had been strained for two long in the mild darkness. Relief wouldn't come. Only more dryness.

He thought he felt a gust of wind against his face. It almost sounded like a female whispering. Sharply he turned to look only to see where he once came from. Another gust of wind a bit more fierce against his face. It too was accompanied by a whisper, "It is inevitable."

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He opened the left eye then the right. The ooze on the wall was now parting around a frame in the stone wall. He opened it.

A bright blinding light would emit from the door way as he stepped through. The door immediately closed behind him with a loud "thud". The sound of a locking mechanism sounded most ominous as he was apparently trapped.

It looked like a hotel room. The walls were covered in a late sixties wall paper, orangish brown with a semi floral print. There was a bed in the center of the room with an end table on either side. The blanket was tossed over the mattress and appeared a dull red with a pattern of hexagons littering it. Two pillows sat at the top of the bed both in white pillow cases which were as pure as white could get from multiple washings. In the far corner of the room was a old oak desk with a tea saucer holding a candle above it.

His eyes swept around the room warily until they fell upon the paintings in the room. Traditional paintings, he thought. One was of a fruit bowl on the far wall across from the bed. One was of a potted plant closest to the door. And finally, the last was sitting above the bed. It was a picture of children playing.

The room was quiet. There was no sound except for the normal London sounds. Occasionally he'd hear soft voices outside the window which would then fade away with the patter of foot steps. Then he'd hear the occasional rush of wind as it brushed gently against the window.

He walked to the chair in front of the oak desk and sat. His palms went face down on the oak desk, his eyes fixated on the candle on the tea saucer. A fire hazard it certainly was, he thought. His eyes then darted around the room falling onto the painting of children playing.

The scene obviously was well thought out and the artist carefully and masterfully stroked his brush along the canvass enough to bring out the detail. It was a young child with absolutely no indication to the sex. The child held in it's hands a beach ball which had the traditional blue, red, yellow, and white marks. The child appeared to be on a playground and had a smile on it's face. It was facing the painter and the child's facial features were clearly defined, a round plump face that created half golf ball cheeks when the child smiled, a small playful smile which rested crookedly across it's face, hair which was covered by a red baseball cap, and the most stunning grey eyes.

He studied the picture and stood from his chair. His arms crossed loosely over his chest and one of his hands went to his chin. He rubbed his chin with his pointer finger and thumb gently as he thought. He heard something again. But this time it sounded like his own voice. He looked around as he realized it was his own inner monologue. He was thinking, "It is time."

He blinked, unsure of the meaning at first and then shook his head. He continued to stare at the portrait on the wall. Suddenly, the portrait would shake as if someone was splicing together a scene from two reels of film. He stumbled back, stepping into a dresser. The child in the picture began moving. It's eyes moved over to him as he pressed his back against the wall, watching it.

The child pulled off the red hat and it's pudgy cheeks dropped from the smile. As the hat came off, curls of beautiful auburn hair fell down to her shoulders. It was now apparent the child was female. Her eyes had intensified and appeared larger than they really were as they peered out from beyond the canvass. He tensed up but curiously took several steps forward.

The child smiled sickly at the end of the canvass and watched him across the room. She reached behind her back and withdrew what appeared to be an enormous butcher's knife. It too appeared as if it had been painted. The brush work even textures from the paint jumping out from the canvass.

He watched with morbid curiosity as the child brought the knife to her face. She trailed it from her ear down. She began humming rhythmically, the sound eerily filling the air as he watched her deform her once perfect face. She suddenly stopped and smiled. Crimson blood dripped down her face. He noticed it wasn't paint. An actual red substance flowed from the canvass. She giggled and stopped humming.

"Your turn," he thought he heard himself say in his head.

He jumped on the bed, extending his shaky hand to the painting. She giggled once his fingers touched the animated knife. He took it from her hand and looked down to it. It appeared to be a regular knife. The only exception was it looked just as it did from the painting. He raised it slowly and then stopped, shaking his head as if disagreeing with himself. He closed his eyes and focused intently.

The sound of metal on metal. The creeking of rust against rust.

He was once again in his diamond room. Alone. He stared at the book case on the side wall and then looked down to his wand.

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Problem?

Could it really be this easy? Yes. It really was.

There he stood with his wand aimed at the back of a drunkard's head. He was unconscious by his own doing. A devious smirk crept across his lips in the abyssal black of the small room.

Some things were easier than it seemed. It just required a shift of focus and use of basic psychology. He reveled in this moment, his self satisfaction saturating each one of the flick swish wand movements.

The only creeping doubt in the back of his head was, what if this drunkard was too strong? What if he resisted? Unfortunate for the drunkard, not many were able to resist. Actually, in the long time tradition not one was ever able to. Each one that had endured something similar had always been changed. It was the breaking point that was always the "X" factor. He knew this.

Change was inevitable and he was the catalyst. Just like he thought... easy.

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Problem?

The laughter echoed the small room. He sat staring at a man in the corner of the room who despite his best efforts always looked just like a skeleton of human to him. He shook his head, his long black hair falling in his face. He brought a hand to his face and moved the small strand of hair away from his eyes.

"But of course, they forget all about me," he explained with a confident smile on his face. He shifted a bit in the chair, turning his body so his left side rested against the chair's back, "they always do. I find it staggering, truly, how at one moment I can be a savior. Yet, at the other I am to be crucified. I must say, this experiment is working out far better than I could have hoped."

As his voice subsided a creeping silence filled and swept the room. He could actually hear the silence, that soft ringing in your ears when there is no sound to fill them. His eyes then moved to survey his surroundings as a smug smile crossed his lips. The room was at is always was. It had the musty smell of old books, an unnatural cool yet damp feeling, and had the occasional creep of rusted metal which had ceased.

Liquid bubbled and fused. Particles on a molecular level were splitting and colliding due to the increased heat. Electrons and protons began to collide at an increasing speed. A pocket of oxygen mixed with one of the collisions. Fuel was created. A violent reaction occurred.

An explosion.

Had it already been four hours? It must have. The distilling was complete. Reversal was next.

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Problem?

This is a story about how my life got was rotated and turned in the opposite direction. And I would appreciate taking a minute, so please just sit right there. If you do, I shall tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air.

In west Philadelphia I was born and raised. And while living in the locale of west Philadelphia, on the playground I spent most of my days. I was usually seen chilling out maxing relaxing all cool and all shooting some basket ball outside of the school. One day a few undesirable characters started making trouble in my neighborhood. I got in one little fight and my mother became scared! She said, "You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air".

I was extremely distressed and protested. However, my mother assured me on a reasonable reliance from my Uncle, Phil. Phil is a corpulent man and tall man, towering over most. His skin is the color of chocolate with a hint of Land-o-Lakes nonfat-nondairy creamer. His smiles was broad, hands big, and his voice was deep and booming almost like James Earl Jones. However, it was not.

Regardless, I boarded the jetliner from Philadelphia and after a layover at O'Hare arrived in California. To my dismay I was not in first class. Imagine, having to eat bagged peanuts like the rest of the animals that rode in there with me!

Upon exiting the aircraft, I gathered my belongings. I then left the concourse. Upon exiting, I whistled for a cab. When my attempts to hailed a cab succeeded, I looked at the license plate which said "fresh". It also had a dice hanging from the mirror! If anything, I can say that this cab was rare. But forget that, it was time to go home to Bel-Air!

The cab stopped in front of a giant house sometime in the early evening. However, the cab ride was anything but pleasant. The cab driver had a horrific odor and I said, "smell you later," as a form of joke which was lost upon the harsh smelling man. But ah-ha! I was finally there! I was able to sit on my throne as a prince of Bel-Air!

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Problem?

"Look at my horse," he shouted loudly atop a beautiful white maned horse, "my horse is amazing." His gloved hand reached down into his pocket and like "magic" handed something to the female person.

"Give it a lick," he demanded.

She cowered for a moment and then looked up, "it.. tastes just like raisins"

"Yes and with a stroke of it's mane it shall turn into a plane and then turns back again when you tug on it's," he trailed off looking over his shoulder.

"Ewww that's dirty," the female shouted as she stepped into a small pile of horse manure.

"Do you think so," he asked as he turned his attention back to the female.

With a quick slight of hand movement he produced a small canteen and spoke to it as he uncapped it. He sniffed it once and spoke, "well then I better not show you where the lemonade is made."

He paused and sipped from the canteen. "Sweet lemonade. Mmm sweet lemonade. Sweet lemonade. Yeah, sweet lemonade."

Revelry ensued as he began swigging from the canteen. His pupils dilated and he looked at the female demanding, "Get on my horse, I'll take you around the universe and all the other places too."

Defiantly she crossed her arms and raised her chin in disapproval speaking loudly, "I think you'll find the universe pretty much covers everything!"

He spit out the lemonade he was sipping and pointed to the back of the horse yelling, "Shut up woman and get on my horse!"

And she did. And it was great.

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Problem?

http://www.newgrounds.com/portal/view/515897

Seem familliar?

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~Tom Summers~ MLE wannabe