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Black LinesBlack Lines
"Where am I going?" I asked myself staring into a mirror--my rear view mirror glaring at me beneath the morning frost.
I played a novel while sitting in the drivers seat of my car, though the volume hardly excreted enough noise to give me any sense of where the main character stood. The words were but a deep grumbling playing though the highly tweeted subs across my back glass.
The smallest things can sometimes leave the largest impacts. Science leaves me stunned, and suffocating at times, though it tends to be contradictory. That's myself--contradictory--and when I stare upon myself in a broken mirror, I see distortion. The Universe, maybe this I see, a course of strings and electrical impulses so very similar to the human mind--even my mind, but as I stare closer into the mirror intending to see the atoms in the black of my eyes, I say to myself: "This is all in theory."
My vehicle seemed much louder in the cold settings of winter. The gear shifter popped into reverse, an
Ecclesia's Wind"Did the stranger give you his name?" Mr. Trice asked, his hand held out above the counter as three gold coins hovered above his palm. They danced in the absence of gravity, occasionally clinging into one another.
My elbows sat on the counter, my hands fisted beneath my chin, mesmerized by the floating coins. "I wouldn't have called him a stranger if I knew his name."
"Aye," he glared at me from beneath his white caterpillar eyebrows. "But I swore he gave you his name? Maybe my old ears deceived me."
He clasped his hand, and the coins struck the counter top simultaneously.
I smirked with a roll to my eyes. "Maybe he gave me a name, but I prefer stranger for right now. That's all he is."
I slid from my cold stool, and stepped lightly forwards the end of the counter. The windows were still damp of dew, but the east sun dried the top corners into a dusty film. Across the street stood another small building who's roof had fallen in over the years as if it had lost its mind and it's skull c
Ecclesia (short summary)The Wind seemed to follow him, Sere often gazed, though he convinced her he was Human. Kaze followed the daughter of the Village Leader, and they noticeably faked their excitement to be wedded. Sere's curiosity grew, pushed by a hidden force of a nature, and in such a short amount of time she finds that she's breathless with as well as without him.
Anamolia Chapter OneAnamolia
Chapter One: "
The first year of four began on a microsecond. The crossing streets beamed of neon lights, flashing and dimming as machines slowed the time, and we, my people, were capable of witnessing the vibrant numbers pass illuminated across the Capital city.
Our ancestors celebrated the dawn of the New Years, but that was a time when the Sun still thrived--still heated our human bodies, and I watched those numbers pass as if they were the sun--as if they emitted light or hope.
"Miles, are you okay?"
My twin sister placed her hand across the polished aluminum table and on my wrist. My gaze was hardly interrupted, though she'd be the only one that'd see any hint of it if I had shown any.
I pulled my wrist against my chest, and crossed my arms, the crowds cheering, drinking their bubbly drinks in celebration of...nothing.
"I'm fine, just bored."
Above the capital tower, the numbers sped back to hyper speeds--time traveling as it was into the future. T
ECCLESIA Episode Three: Days to ComeECCLESIA
Episode Three: "Days to Come"
I knew nothing
At this point in a corrupted time.
Ignorance posed a threat,
--A suffocating threat--
If I did not rise soon to meet
The intellect I possessed.
And I dreamed of Him
In the most unusual of circumstances.
As if a trigger had been pulled,
His auras followed me like the air,
A foreign calling of my name.
Kaze stood before me,
A hole bled
Through the silver silk of my dress.
I still thought
Suffocation and the red
Folding down my stomach,
Streaming across the silver skirt.
He stood tall and
If not for the clouded darkness.
In his hand
Thumped a ball of pink tissue,
The red dripped
Pouring from ripped veins
At the soles of his bare feet.
And paralysis held me back
From retrieving it.
I decided to take the next several days off and used the opportunity to assist my older sister in a few household chores. Of course, I really didn't do much. Going back to Mr. Trice's store
Ecclesia 'The Final Surrage' prologueECCLESIA
Episode Zero: "Rise" (Prologue)
The world collapsed one pillar at a time. The Final Surrage was only the beginning of a series of tragic events according to the Suns that circled a wide sky. The Sun that rose in the east beamed as the brighter and earlier star and marked the beginning of a thirty minute gap for the dim west sun to follow. I once paid them little attention for they were meaningless to me in all ways except the telling of time, but now I marveled at them and their dim glow, their troubling beauty and life a representation of unanimous beings that I had yet to comprehend.
"Kaze," I called the name of my last and closest friend. "Do you really believe what your sister explained to us?"
The wind whispered a strange lie as Kaze finished collecting water from the red river, commonly referred to as the Scarlet River, and the only river to my knowledge that ran wild throughout the known land.
His false smile came and went. "Serenity, all we can do is pray that things m
ECCLESIA: Episode One: ReverentECCLESIA
Episode Two: "Reverent"
Three years passed slower than the death of a Mahogany Beetle caught in the ooze of a Cloro Tree. They ate the sap using a slick tongue, and sometimes fell victim to its adhesive texture taking weeks for them to die. I passed by one of the critters on my early morning walk, too sleepy to snarl my nose and I moved on.
I squinted in regret as I twisted the rusty knob. The hinges squealed, and I wished to follow its example. However, I kept my complaints to myself. The grocery shop consumed the majority of my time. I smiled away, though sometimes faint. Mr. Trice was the only employer willing to hire me with my condition, if being Human was truly a disability. Behind the counter I sat, my posture horribly hunched on a backless stool.
"Why are you early?" Mr. Trice's voice naturally sounded as if he spoke in a barrel, deep and scratchy.
Through a crooked window I watched the east sun rise above a line of forest. The west sun would follow it in a short thi
ECCLESIA: Episode One: AlibiECCLESIA
Episode One: "Alibi"
We stayed in a cabin just on the outskirts of town despite my father's occupation as a member of the Council. As a result, my mother worried little about the food on the table in comparison to our neighbors. I looked upon my parents relationship as beautiful, their methods on caring for my sister and I equally perfect. I never saw myself or my sister as attention seekers, though my sister once threw a tantrum in the market place when my father forbade her a new dress. She hardly left a mark on society though; she didn't stand above a crowd--not on the same levels that I did.
A visitor once asked my mother: "Her hair is gorgeous, who mixed the hair dye?"
My mother and father looked upon each other hesitantly: "Her hair is not colored; it's naturally that dark blue," my mother responded politely.
Our neighbor raised a brow, and continued: "And you say she is human? You've noticed no strange phenomenons?"
The woman's eyes sat heavily on me as I bathed in the
SpaceNothing moved. The world stood disturbingly still in a sort of lingo, may it or may it not have been a purgatory--which I often contemplated as well. An eyeless angel cushioned my head--my dog chewed the cheap buttons off it's face--as I starred into the ceiling.
"That crack is going to kill me," I spoke so blandly that I bored myself.
Work would arrive in only thirty minutes. I'd perform the same activities as the day before. Sall would sit in the chair next to me, and chart and ramble about what her annoying ass kids had done that previous day. I'd have to document about the patient in room 631 falling out of bed again. She fell every day, and I highly doubted she was discharged at this point. Mary Winkleblack was her name, a woman with everything wrong, but nothing legally documented. I think it's illegal for me to reveal her name? Hell, what am I saying? I know it's illegal.
I'm not worried about getting fired though, because for Pete's Sake--whoever the fuck Pete is--look at my la
July 15, 1897
"No! No, no, no! The note is 'F', not 'A'! Preform the song correctly the first time and don't disappoint me any further."
"Start back at the top. For every mistake you make you will repeat the song that many times over until you can finish the song without making a single error."
Abiding his mother's orders, Cyril continued to play his beloved violin. Although he loved playing the violin, he didn't particularly care for his mother's harsh words and punishments. Cyril didn't want to disappoint her, so he continued to play.
"Cyril! The note on the measure is 'F'! How much mired do you wish to anger me!?" His mother scowled and spoke with disdain.
"I'm s-sorry.. I'm trying, I really am! See?" Cyril tried to play the song again, but was interrupted by his enraged mother.
"No, you don't 'try' to play correctly. You will play correctly. You're a noble. You shouldn't be such a disappointment. Nobleman are supposed to set an example amongst the common p
MonsterSince you were a child
you have been checking your wardrobes and under your beds for monsters
But what you don't know that there already is a monster in your life
Always following you
Always with you
Until you die
I guess you don't know what I'm talking about right now
We humans forget that there's a monster inside all of us
Locked in a cage in your head
For the right moment for you to snap and break open the cage for it so it can take control
That monster is our insanity
A raging beast that is inside of us all
But one day cage will break
And the beast will be released for it to rampage
in flesh and bloodHe finds her unassumingly. She's just standing there, cheeks ruddy, bundled in a forest green jacket lined with fake—he thinks—fur. He finds her, hands in pockets, feet atop the grass. The light that floods the panes of her face casts dark shadows beneath her eyes and along her jaw and he thinks for a moment that she might be kind of beautiful.
"Why are you standing before the Eiffel Tower and looking so sad?"
Her head snaps. He counts, one, two, three, seconds, and then she turns her face upward toward the monument in front of the two. They are alone. She doesn't say anything and then she's saying something and he has to turn his attention from the angles of her face to her brown, brown, brown eyes.
"Do you think it's lonely?" Of course not, he thinks. Of course not.
But all he can utter is no as he stares up at it. When she asks him why he sputters and turns to face her again, and sh
Creepypasta: Pretty Little ThingsCreepypasta: Pretty Little Things
Isn’t it funny how the things that tickle our imaginations as children seem terrifying in perspective when we grow, and vice versa? Even time itself, which seems naught but a blessing to a child, appears increasingly ravaging and crippling to an adult through its bastard offspring, “age”. Eventually it is so akin to the grim specter of Death itself that it turns our bones to ash and, except in extraordinary cases, erases all memory we ever lived. But I am above such things. I have lived for all times and for all ages, and all because of Theresa.
Theresa is a doll of the porcelain variety, although that is like saying that the revolver which was used to assassinate Archduke Ferdinand and kicked off World War I was .32 in calibre. What I’m trying to say is that just thinking of Theresa as a doll is to miss the underlying subtext of what she represents. To illustrate my point, I found Theresa in my bathtub when I was filling it wit
What Comes Out of the Shadows I was always afraid of the basement.
My parents chalked it up to what they called “post-moving paranoia” or something like that. I could only remember that the basement of the new house we moved to filled me with a chilling, dark feeling. I never knew why it bothered me so much.
Even my parents never really went down there. The previous owners had left a ton of stuff down there, and if it had been any other house I’d have been down there searching for anything interesting. I couldn’t go into the basement here though. Not in this house. The basement seemed like its own territory, and you didn’t want to trespass on its territory.
The house itself was nice. My room was small and there was a dent in the wall, but it was nice. My parents had a room that connected to a bathroom, and the kitchen was near their room while the living room was closer to mine. It was a small, cozy house, but
Creepypasta: Bloody MaryCreepypasta: Bloody Mary
The Bloody Mary ritual is probably the most popular method of summoning a spirit among casual ghost hunters. No one really believes in it, and when someone does see something odd after the incantation is performed it is attributed to the sensory deprivation of being in a darkened room. But maybe if I explain the origins of the story you will be a bit more receptive to the truth.
Mary was a waif of a 16 year-old girl who lived in the countryside of Scotland during the Wars of Scottish Independence which occurred in the tail end of the 1200s. Mary saw none of the war however, and for that matter barely ever saw the world outside her family’s shamble of a dwelling except when she was allowed to. You see, her parents were obsessively worried for Mary’s safety. She was their only child, and because they loved her more than life itself, they forbade her from living a normal life so as to keep her protected. They just never wanted to lose her. Ironically,
Ritual of Death Sometime in the 90’s, a group of children were reportedly attacked outside their school building. The school was nearly vacant, and the kids were only there for an after-school club. They told police that they were held prisoner inside while a creature prowled around outside. One boy and a girl tried to make a run for it, and insisted that they were attacked by a creature with many faces.
The boy told them that the creature bragged about having 1000 faces, and offered to show them every one of the faces it had. They both refused to look as the creature’s head began to change. The boy reported that they stood there, facing the direction opposite the creature with their eyes closed, for the longest time until the creature had finished. It then whispered a few words to the boy before disappearing.
The boy only remembers one thing from the words the creature had said, and he called it the “Ritual of Death”. Po
Can You Keep a Secret?: Zalgo's ProtegeCan you keep a secret? Can you keep a secret? Can you keep a secret? Can you keep a secret?
"H-h-h-h-hello, loves. C-c-c-c-care to hear a story?" The young boy spoke nervously, his accent easily recognizable as British. "C-c-c-can you keep a s-s-s-secret? W-w-well, alright then."
Before a captive, literally tied to their seats, audience, a young man stood on a stage, dressed all fancy in white. He wore a perfect old English tux, with shirt tails and all. His hair a short and ruffled ginger, freckles on his cheeks, pale skin, his eyes covered by a strange white blindfold. It had strange symbols on it, written in blood. No one really knew what they meant, but one looked like an upside down capital 'A' with a few lines going down across the bottom. The next looked like half star upside down with the two ends at top coming down in two lines past the bottom point, and the last one was a swirl like a pinwheel that was X-ed out.
Strange carnival-like music played in the background as he smirk
A Secret Cord"I'd like to bring this to a whole new psychosis."
Sweat pinned itself within the air. The temperature rose with every tug on the rope, those thick knots stressing a tight grip around a pair of frail wrists. The time of day became unknown when a busted eye opened to a room full of old colors. The windows were sheathed with a silver shield--a cheap brand of aluminum foil, and as if it were a mirror, he starred at his crumpled reflection.
"Did you hear me?"
Distance became difficult to judge. One eye swollen, and the other hazy, her body wobbled for an impossible freedom. Her strength weak, she respond:
"Where am I?"
"I don't know."
He stepped while finishing: "Do not know."
He kneeled before her. Suddenly, the pale colors of the room blurred. Her breath left her swiftly, and the man starred at her under such propulsion. The swinging ceiling fan chattered. The swinging ceiling fan chattered. It chattered.
A rapid heartbeat tampered with the tension.
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