I know it says in the rules I shouldn't post here unless I'm invited, but I sorta was. Wessel kept bugging me to post in here and say I'm a girl but hey, whatever.
I am interesting in joining, though. You guys are a fun crowd.
There was a hole in Darren's head.
A vacancy filled with blood, headlights, and glowing yellow eyes.
But most importantly, a body was in there.
A mangled, bloody body with tangled limbs and a blank stare.
Inside Darren, these things were twisting and turning, ripping the rest of his sanity out. Throwing his rational thoughts outside.
His only idea to rid himself of this entity was to put a bullet through his head. Then he thought he might end up with the tortuous thing following him around in whatever afterlife there was. He couldn't even stand it when it was just a flash here and there.
He pushed the thought of the face out of his mind. He had to concentrate on the road, after all. But thinking of the road just brought back the red flesh and brown fur thrown on his windshield.
Even though he was so distracted, he managed to make it home without crossing over to the other side of the street too often. He lived in a fairly rural community, luckily for him.
He parked his car. He went inside. He pulled a frosty beer from the fridge and threw himself down on the couch, determined to fight. He wouldn't give up without a fight. The TV was his weapon.
The news came on when he pressed the power button. A car accident. The body twisted happily in his head, dislodging more chunks of sanity. Darren recognized the threat and changed the channel. He had enough of his mind left to try to save it.
The next channel consisted of a man with a rifle. He was placed in a brown field and was talking to the camera. Darren didn't bother to listen.
A few seconds passed. Something moved in the grass, nearly indistinguishable. The camera zoomed in.
Darren didn't even give the legs time to do more than twitch. He turned the TV off.
He couldn't risk any more encounters like this. He decided to get a shower and then go to sleep. Showers were good.
He walked into the bathroom and shed his clothes from work. They fell in a heap to the floor, a small cloud of dirt erupting from its depths.
The water steamed and skin burned. Darren didn't care. The thing wasn't moving, and that was all that mattered. He closed his eyes and sighed, hot water finding a way in through his mouth. He swallowed and relished as the rest of him was warmed, no matter how much lime the water had in it.
The reverie was over. He had to fall asleep, and fast. He downed some NyQuil. The exact amount didn't matter to him. He had to fall asleep, so asleep that he wouldn't have dreams, wouldn't lose this battle even more.
He made it to his bed, crawled in between the heavy blankets and closed his eyes. Thank god for NyQuil, was his last coherent thought.
He woke up. The blinking red numbers on his nightstand read 3:23. His eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Sweat poured off his face so he threw off the blankets. Suddenly, he felt extremely naked and chose the lesser of too evils. He pulled the blankets back up.
There it was, kicking in his head. The yellow eye turned to stare at him. He writhed, trying to stop it. It had to stop. It had to stop. The more he thought, the more brain was gone, thrown away into the air. Kicked up by sharp hooves out of the hole the creature had crawled in to.
Darren got up and grasped his head. He moved to the temples. Messaged them, did everything he had ever learned to stop a headache. It didn't work. He was losing.
He stumbled into the hallway. Out the front door. Freezing night air hit him hard, but even that couldn't break the hold the eye had on him. He had stopped on the top step, staring. Then the battle resumed, the pause by the staring contest over. It wasn't a break he enjoyed.
He somehow managed to keep on his feet going down the steps thanks to a handrail.
He followed the horizontal siding to the back of the house. His lead-line ended at the porch. He lurched off into the darkness, away from the flood light that had turned on with his movement. He tried to run, but fell over a stick. Blood came in a slow and steady trickle down his forehead. He couldn't feel it. There was only the ripping and tearing in his head.
He started tearing his own hair out. He got up, pulling out skin with the base of the hair.
The trees offered support in his nightmare walk.
He fell a few more times. He created a few more outlets for the blood pulsing through his veins.
He came upon a road, a windy, twisting one. He could only tell it was a road by the flat sound his bare feet made on the macadam. He left dark, watery footprints.
He ended up in the middle of the left lane, twisting in circles. He had stopped pulling his hair, but there wasn't much left anyway. He pounded his fists on his head.
The eye got closer.
The eye got bigger.
The kicking was stronger.
Sanity was lost by the second.
And then there were headlights. He thought they were the ones in his head.
He was wrong.
The driver thought he was a deer. He was too drunk to tell the difference.
Darren was thrown to the side of the road. He stared into the eyes that faded as the headlights went away.
I tried listening to Crimes, but that was too....I don't know. I don't like it. Someone else recommended Burn Piano Island, Burn, and I really like that song, so now I just have to get the album.
your dream
reality
and reality a dream
but neither matter
one wish, one hope
no long will you be alone
there is one
a touch
a whisper
trees bend
the hope
ripping, tearing
focus
the wind loves you
the trees love you
can you feel it?
something more
someone
in the wind
impossible
forget
remember
focus
the wind can't hold you
can't kiss you
can't make you better
this is you
no lie
one life
one chance
one memory
that could ruin it all
think of the wind
relish it
one last time
move on, move on
it's not real
the wind is nothing
realize this
and forget
what you thought you had
That's my desktop right now, courtesy of my camera.
Why'd you take away the story? It's okay to make people be creative. Ah, well. I will bid:
1. A teleporter so you can visit me whenever you want.
2. A date with me (you can get here via the teleporter )
3. A mix cd made by me full of wonderful American music!
4. Your very own pet penguin! Who doesn't love teh penguins?!
5. A pizza made by me (because I can truly make a pizza ^^)
6. Another pizza
7. Invisible, a book by Pete Hautman that I love. A lot.
8. Your very own field! Gets perfectly dark for looking at the stars when you want to be alone. Also, it's magically free of bugs.
Okay, that's all I can come up with for now. I'm not incredibly creative...sorry.
TT: Yeah, Allen told me. Yay for Monday!!!! Maggee got hired, too, and Danie probably will.....and Utari as soon as she turns 15. Wahoo for people we like!!!!!
I live in the US and they are okay. Haven't been to many, but it kinda depends on who's doing it. My uncle and Aunt's was Hickville, so that was all country music (which I loathe), and my other Aunt and uncle are the rich snobby type so I think that was boring.
You go, you watch them get married, you eat and dance. That's about it. And it's only one day. You give gifts at some point.
This is gonna be a while....
I'm not hugely into love stories, and this was fairly predictable. It was good, however, in the way it was written.
I think you could have done without the mushy parts, however. At least, a few of them. Just my opinion, though.
Very good ^^
I am interesting in joining, though. You guys are a fun crowd.
I was going for the morbid thing. It's written in kind of the same style as my poetry, I think.
No, not a dog. Think bigger
Comments please??
There was a hole in Darren's head.
A vacancy filled with blood, headlights, and glowing yellow eyes.
But most importantly, a body was in there.
A mangled, bloody body with tangled limbs and a blank stare.
Inside Darren, these things were twisting and turning, ripping the rest of his sanity out. Throwing his rational thoughts outside.
His only idea to rid himself of this entity was to put a bullet through his head. Then he thought he might end up with the tortuous thing following him around in whatever afterlife there was. He couldn't even stand it when it was just a flash here and there.
He pushed the thought of the face out of his mind. He had to concentrate on the road, after all. But thinking of the road just brought back the red flesh and brown fur thrown on his windshield.
Even though he was so distracted, he managed to make it home without crossing over to the other side of the street too often. He lived in a fairly rural community, luckily for him.
He parked his car. He went inside. He pulled a frosty beer from the fridge and threw himself down on the couch, determined to fight. He wouldn't give up without a fight. The TV was his weapon.
The news came on when he pressed the power button. A car accident. The body twisted happily in his head, dislodging more chunks of sanity. Darren recognized the threat and changed the channel. He had enough of his mind left to try to save it.
The next channel consisted of a man with a rifle. He was placed in a brown field and was talking to the camera. Darren didn't bother to listen.
A few seconds passed. Something moved in the grass, nearly indistinguishable. The camera zoomed in.
Darren didn't even give the legs time to do more than twitch. He turned the TV off.
He couldn't risk any more encounters like this. He decided to get a shower and then go to sleep. Showers were good.
He walked into the bathroom and shed his clothes from work. They fell in a heap to the floor, a small cloud of dirt erupting from its depths.
The water steamed and skin burned. Darren didn't care. The thing wasn't moving, and that was all that mattered. He closed his eyes and sighed, hot water finding a way in through his mouth. He swallowed and relished as the rest of him was warmed, no matter how much lime the water had in it.
The reverie was over. He had to fall asleep, and fast. He downed some NyQuil. The exact amount didn't matter to him. He had to fall asleep, so asleep that he wouldn't have dreams, wouldn't lose this battle even more.
He made it to his bed, crawled in between the heavy blankets and closed his eyes. Thank god for NyQuil, was his last coherent thought.
He woke up. The blinking red numbers on his nightstand read 3:23. His eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Sweat poured off his face so he threw off the blankets. Suddenly, he felt extremely naked and chose the lesser of too evils. He pulled the blankets back up.
There it was, kicking in his head. The yellow eye turned to stare at him. He writhed, trying to stop it. It had to stop. It had to stop. The more he thought, the more brain was gone, thrown away into the air. Kicked up by sharp hooves out of the hole the creature had crawled in to.
Darren got up and grasped his head. He moved to the temples. Messaged them, did everything he had ever learned to stop a headache. It didn't work. He was losing.
He stumbled into the hallway. Out the front door. Freezing night air hit him hard, but even that couldn't break the hold the eye had on him. He had stopped on the top step, staring. Then the battle resumed, the pause by the staring contest over. It wasn't a break he enjoyed.
He somehow managed to keep on his feet going down the steps thanks to a handrail.
He followed the horizontal siding to the back of the house. His lead-line ended at the porch. He lurched off into the darkness, away from the flood light that had turned on with his movement. He tried to run, but fell over a stick. Blood came in a slow and steady trickle down his forehead. He couldn't feel it. There was only the ripping and tearing in his head.
He started tearing his own hair out. He got up, pulling out skin with the base of the hair.
The trees offered support in his nightmare walk.
He fell a few more times. He created a few more outlets for the blood pulsing through his veins.
He came upon a road, a windy, twisting one. He could only tell it was a road by the flat sound his bare feet made on the macadam. He left dark, watery footprints.
He ended up in the middle of the left lane, twisting in circles. He had stopped pulling his hair, but there wasn't much left anyway. He pounded his fists on his head.
The eye got closer.
The eye got bigger.
The kicking was stronger.
Sanity was lost by the second.
And then there were headlights. He thought they were the ones in his head.
He was wrong.
The driver thought he was a deer. He was too drunk to tell the difference.
Darren was thrown to the side of the road. He stared into the eyes that faded as the headlights went away.
Perhaps I'll just get Burn and stay with that for now....
Is the new one like Crimes or Burn?
reality
and reality a dream
but neither matter
one wish, one hope
no long will you be alone
there is one
a touch
a whisper
trees bend
the hope
ripping, tearing
focus
the wind loves you
the trees love you
can you feel it?
something more
someone
in the wind
impossible
forget
remember
focus
the wind can't hold you
can't kiss you
can't make you better
this is you
no lie
one life
one chance
one memory
that could ruin it all
think of the wind
relish it
one last time
move on, move on
it's not real
the wind is nothing
realize this
and forget
what you thought you had
That's my desktop right now, courtesy of my camera.
Why'd you take away the story? It's okay to make people be creative. Ah, well. I will bid:
1. A teleporter so you can visit me whenever you want.
2. A date with me (you can get here via the teleporter
3. A mix cd made by me full of wonderful American music!
4. Your very own pet penguin! Who doesn't love teh penguins?!
5. A pizza made by me (because I can truly make a pizza ^^)
6. Another pizza
7. Invisible, a book by Pete Hautman that I love. A lot.
8. Your very own field! Gets perfectly dark for looking at the stars when you want to be alone. Also, it's magically free of bugs.
Okay, that's all I can come up with for now. I'm not incredibly creative...sorry.
I love Chiyo.......
Very nice.
And yeah, The Mars Volta are amazing....I love them sooooo much, as you can see since I made a banner of them, lol.
I live in the US and they are okay. Haven't been to many, but it kinda depends on who's doing it. My uncle and Aunt's was Hickville, so that was all country music (which I loathe), and my other Aunt and uncle are the rich snobby type so I think that was boring.
You go, you watch them get married, you eat and dance. That's about it. And it's only one day. You give gifts at some point.
And explain to me how they make sense when in the SM he clearly stated 1917?!?!?!?
None of those numbers make any sense...unless you're joking around.