My Story That I'm Working On

The First Paragraph of a story i've entitled for now "Dycera's Tribulation" pronounced (Die-Cera). Also read karly's intro and tell me which you like better. Me and Karly are having a contest. I say her's is better and she's says mine is. so tell me what you think.

Chapter 1 – The Plan

Dycera sat idly on his steel cot, the creaking sound as he shifted trying to find a comfortable spot was the only sound that echoed in the sterile air of the dark box they kept him in. His eyes fluttered beneath his closed eyelids as he tried to re-create the room as a way of focusing his thoughts. In his mind the 8x9 ft. room appeared, it’s black scarred concrete appearing first allowing the foul bloody stench to punch into Dycera’s nostril cavities and allow an influx of the garbage that the prison served for food to burst back up into his mind form’s throat. Feeling the burning sensation in his throat, Dycera chuckled thinking about how crappy the warden kept what he called his pride and joy. All that bastard cares about is booze and raping those hot girls in yard 16, Dycera thought out loud as the mental hole he was still in rumbled and shook uncontrollably. Dycera immediately rooted himself firmly in a tense position and let the rest of the encasement close around him, the four side walls appeared first bathed in a solution of twilight and shadow that seeped in from a small barred window that sat in the top left corner of the room and spread out from the iron door that seemed to block all forms of happiness including light. Dycera let his mind form take a swift turn off the bed and take both of his crusted, dry, and rough hands up behind the nape of his neck where there seemed to be a giant forest-like tuff of matted hair and interlock. Dycera let his mind sink back against the cool and damp wall as he let the small prickles of the sheet rock pierce tiny holes in his jumpsuit and massage his tense back into submission. Feeling the calming movements of the millions of tiny fingers, he let his mind seep into the memory bank, where he remembered a hymn of ancient times that was used to calm him as a child. “Darkness runs like a spider’s web, running through piece by piece, a moving joint in the everlasting darkness waiting to catch its prey. Its waits and waits, years, decades, millenniums only seconds, hours, days to the darkness and finally it springs, catching it slowly making it writhe and shake only to be eaten by the master of it. But throughout the Darkness there is light that pierces the night veil, one angel that counteracts the demons that lurk in the darkness, one angel…” ‘Angel’ a word that gave Dycera no joy anymore, as a child he felt proud to be an angel almost strangely he felt that he was better than anyone who didn’t have wings. His hands split from their interlocking stance and slid down to two large crease spots in his maroon jumpsuit, as he rubbed spot he could hear the voice of his father yelling at how long it had taken him to get a diviner and he still hadn’t gotten it yet. “You worthless piece of crap, you can’t get anything done, you’ve been gone for two years and still you don’t even a hint that you tried to get the diviner” his father the king of angels would say and Dycera would’ve retorted with his usual smart-ass remarks saying “whatever, screw this anyway, bye’ father’. “