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Odd Idd: Book 2: Silas' thoughts on JaimeSilas looked over at the girl tuning her guitar as if her kid wasn't missing and her best friend wasn't who she thought. He walked over to her and put a hand on hers, meaning only to comfort her. She gave him a dark look, he removed his hand and she went back to tuning the guitar.
"Hey, Jaime," he asked, "I've been meaning to ask, why doesn't Idd turn human?"
"What do you mean?" Jaime asked him, her attention now off the guitar.
"No-mores, being once human, often have the ability to appear human when they want," Silas said, "Took me a few encounters with them to learn that. that's actually where most of your legends of shape-shifters come fr-"
Jaime gripped his tie suddenly and pulled him close. He was expecting her to hit him across the face or break his glasses, instead she kissed him.
His eyes, or really the lack there of, went wide. He sat there for a moment and the she let go of him, even going as far as pushing him back gently. He still stood there, slack jawe
Odd Idd: Book 2: Em and IddThe beast looked as to be nothing more than a lower grade Devourer. Why this beast, of all beasts, was giving Reynald any trouble Em would never know. Hell, he acted as a child, to the point of even watching cartoons.
Closing her eyes she gave a quick incantation to summon him. She'd been working closly with him after the death of her only friend. She'd had him working double agent beside Silas too, and as a bonus the fool almost trusted the creature.
Em, however, knew better than to trust it. She may have learned to cast and conjur it, but it was still of hell. Being from hell ment that it had more power than she would even give it credit for. That was probably because of how lazy the thing was though.
A puff of black smoke and the stentch sulfur summoned the beast. The small imp barely had enough wieght to make a dent in her leather jacket. She could hear his tounge clicking impaiently as he waited to be addressed.
"Hello, Gash," she said, not looking at the small demon.
Idd: Book 2: Angels aren't so niceThe two were akward as hell and gave Silas the feeling that they didn't like him much. Barb kept throwing him a look when she thought he wasn't paying attention that only a Demon could mirror. The other, however, had his own reason for hating Silas.
"So what's with the hair?" Ed asked.
"Ed!" Barb shouted, "Be nice! We have company, even if his hair is a little goofy."
"What is with everyone making fun of my hair?" Silas finally snapped, "And you Edward, you should know exactly who I am."
The girls stopped. Jaime had a strange look on her face that said clearly she had no idea what he was talking about. It took Silas only a moment before he realized his mistake.
But the cat was out of the bag.
"What's he mean you should know, Ed?" Barb asked. If her silky-smooth voice and thick accent wasn't enough to melt his heart Jaime's hard look sure did.
Ed was sweating, "I've no idea what he's talking about."
Silas gave a little chuckle, "You're right Ed, it's my mistake. Or perhaps it is fate I
Pokemon: The Missingno CountryThe shop had an automatic door that would swing shut if I didn't move fast. I made my way down the isles. Its hard to pocket candy, much less what I'm after, with the counter facing down the whole isle.
The young man behind the counter pays me no mind. He's busy helping some kid probably out on his own for the first time. I wish I'd had that opportunity. Instead, now I'm twenty and penny-less.
There they are.
Bright and beautiful. I turn one over in my hands, a small red and white orb with a simple catch system. Simple, I almost laugh at the thought. There is more technology and science in this thing than I will ever begin to understand. There was so many of them, too, surely the shop keep wouldn't miss more than one.
No, I reminded myself, I only need one.
Grabbing one I quickly stuff it in my pocket and move to the food isle. If I'm going to pull this off I'll need food. This I do have money for; it is only 100 for these instead of 200.
I head up to the counter, sweat pouring down my
Emerald and Catch Up"You look like hell," the young woman sitting in his chair said. She didn't even bother looking up from the paper in her hands.
Emerald Down was five foot eleven with dark skin and raven black hair. She had picked this spot, as she always did while she was around Reynald, to annoy. The old man hated people in his chair.
She could feel him glaring down at her from the back of his chair, "Get out."
"What's the matter boss," She laughed, "Don't like me here? To ashamed of your former apprentice." She still got out of the chair but didn't leave the room. Instead she stood just out of the reach of his cane and waited for him to sit comfortably.
"What are you doing here Em?" he asked flatly, taking a seat in the large leather chair.
"Can't a girl visit her old teacher?" She asked feigning a hurt face.
He frowned at her. The last time she had seen him, she had tried to kill him. Even though she forgave him now she really couldn't blame him for what he did. Still, he did kidnap her and when sh
ConversationsShe had stabbed him, killed him, she knew she had. And yet here he was straightening his glasses and tie. There was something strange about him. Something that terrified her.She backed away, there was something about him that unsettled her and it was more than just fear. It was excitment, excitement of the unknown, the unthinkable, and the all powerfull. The thrill of thinking that somehow, someway there was more to the world than she had come to believe.
She had gone back to putting limits on the world and he tore them down for her.
Then she gagged at the thought, Oh god, how sappy was that?
"You ok?" he asked, moving towards her like he actually cared.
"No," she held a hand up to him, "No, no. Hell no. You keep your goffy looking hair away from me."
"Goofy?" He said as if the thought caught him off gaurd and looked up at his hair. Most of it was slicked back, and sure his bangs shot outward ony to come back down infront of his face, but goofy? "Who the hell are you calling goofy bald
Creepypasta: It Never EndsCreepypasta: It Never Ends
I ask you a question, what is right and what is wrong? You might say something like murder is wrong, and dying for a just cause is right. But in the end, how are the two different? They each involve death. Which brings me to my main point: all life depends upon the ending of another’s to exist. Even humans must eat plants and usually animals, and in some odd cases other humans as well. Life could best be portrayed as an endless staircase, constantly turning back in on itself in a quantum Mobius strip. Remember that all life exists solely because it caused another life pain at some point, which in turn had inflicted pain to life before it. That is a central theme in the story I will tell you.
First, proper introductions are in order. I am Sin, with a capital S. I could best be described as the abstract concept of violating the natural order that we call sin, given sentience and a semblance of form. I make my presence felt every day in the life of every m
innocencelast night, i dreamt the devil
tried to slaughter me with a
train. the tracks began at the
back hall and ended at the front
door, pouring outside. how these
things appeared in my home, i cannot
he was not the caricature you may be
imagining; oh, no. he was perhaps
as old as the boy who died this winter,
roughly twenty five summers. ebony
curls sat wickedly on his ears, and his
eyes were two lumps of coal and fire,
sharp enough to paralyze.
i locked him in the garden, eventually.
he found a way back in, of course
(being the devil must have perks).
i retrieved the pocket knife the colour
of motor oil from my nightstand
and stabbed him three times, in the belly.
he bled out all over, staining the picture
frame, the carpet, the wallpaper. i imagined
it was sin, not blood; that i was healing, not
but it was blood; he was human, after all.
as they took him away to the hospital, i watched
him grimace in pain. guilt seeped through my
skin like coffee th
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
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,
Because I askedThe fingers were now black, stained with blood. I sighed as I curled them back into a fist. I’m inside The Black Forest Asylum, hiding in one of the many janitorial closets. My arm’s bleeding profusely, due to its recently impaling, thanks to the demonic little girl I just met a couple of minutes ago. I place my hand back on the wound, trying to apply pressure.
Why? Just why? Why can’t I have an easy day? Just once!
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” I hear the girl’s playful, yet sadistic, voice.
I groan, Please…give me five minutes! I keep quiet, hoping that maybe she’ll walk past the room where the closet I’m currently hiding is in, but I already know that’s asking for too much.
I hear the door open shortly followed by footsteps, enter the room. I hold my breath, trying my best not to make a sound. As I do, I silently curse The Sender for bringing me here.
“I can smell your fear…” I hear
Creepypasta: LogicLara sat upside down on the sofa. Her long, curly black hair was hanging down, brushing up against the hardwood floor.
“Lara, your mom doesn’t like you sitting like that.” Her father said, looking up from his book.
Lara had to struggle to get to a normal position. She wasn’t quite used to missing half of her left arm yet. “So…” She started, shifting on the leather couch to find a comfortable position. “When is she going to get here?” Lara’s mom had left to pick up a new child. Literally. After the long and tedious adoption process, it was time to pick her up.
“Should be soon…” He replied, glancing down at his watch. “Remember what we told you. Don’t-“
“-ask about the scar. I’m nine, I remember things Daddy.”
The bolt lock on the front door clicked and the door swung open. “I don’t want you see you tracking dirt in the house- I’ve heard you’re pretty
The Virtual Reality Experiment A few years before the time this writing took place, there was an experiment to see if a phenomenal invention could potentially revolutionize the world of video games forever.
The invention was a virtual reality console that would actually put eager players into the game so they could vividly experience it instead of just play it. It sounded like something from Science Fiction, but the developers had spent years building it.
The console was to be called the “Immersion”, and it would have instantly made every other console obsolete. It wasn’t like the kind of system where you have to wear a visor over your eyes like the Oculus Rift and still hold a controller. It would have generated an entire virtual world unlike any other before it for players to explore. The game would generate sounds, smells, sights, even a temperature. Once the gamer began playing, it was as if they had stepped into another world for an
There is someone hereThere is someone here.
I can see her in the corner of my eye, hiding in the darkness. Her mouth is slack, her face is white. Her hair is long and clinging to her face hiding it in the shadows. I'm not sure I should turn me head, in fear I may upset her. She is staring at me with hollow eyes that seem to have sunken in long, long ago.
I can smell her, the stentch of death, dirt, and decay clings to her. Its a foul smell but I dare not say anything. If her body smells this bad I can only fear her breath is worse, she's no teeth, or very little to speak of.
As she move's there she gives a small moan as if every limping step is painfull. Do I turn my head to watch her? Or do I let her slip behind me, out of sight.
Its to late now, the decision made for me with her dissapearance. I can't see her, but I still feel as if she watches me. My spine tingles and itches as if-
Dear God, is that her finger nail? Its long and sharp and feels strange against my cheek filling my nostroles with a smell
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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