Mary chapter 1.Mary.Mary chapter 1.14 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
"She was a good girl... Mary was.... None of the children liked her... Or maybe they did I don't know... But the poor girl always got teased.. The girls hated her. They'd say she was too beautiful for her own good.. A dead beat model they'd call her... It was awful.. What those vile girls did to her... The boys... Oh the boys... They loved her.. Oh they loved her very much... So very, very much... Too beautiful she was..."
It was just another dreadful day at school. Boarding school. Oh how Mary hated it. She didn't know why the girls hated her so much but quite frankly, she hated them just as much. They were always pushing her around, tripping her, calling her names, pulling her hair, destroying mirrors in bathrooms when she tried using them, everything. She was sick of it. 'Gary Mary' they'd call her or 'Mary Larry's as fat as a blueberry' she hated it, she hated all of it! "One day they'll get what's coming to them." She said, as she forced herself out of bed. "Time to get to c
Creepypasta: The Brightest LightCreepypasta: The Brightest LightCreepypasta: The Brightest Light4 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
The year is 1598 and Eric Landlest is the definition of a faded hero. Previously a Knight Errant of some minor renown, he is now little regarded save as an eccentric who above all seems to bear a pathological fear of the most innocuous things. He possesses an utter phobia of thunder, for instance, and shakes like a newborn whenever a crack of lightning streaks across a brooding storm cloud. He won’t go outside when it rains, but if caught in a downpour would prefer to stand in the open as opposed to taking shelter under a tree or such. He says it is safer that way.
When pressed, he always says that this way, it is harder for “that one” to get to him.
Presently you are burdened with the unpleasant task of having to put up with Eric Landlest’s company, seeing as you are delivering groceries and ale to the secluded loner along with your assistant, Johnathan Kepp. Why he can’t take a horse two miles into town to get them himsel
Up the River Marcus awoke, his eyes staring up at a starry sky. He found himself resting upon the riverbank, far from anything familiar. The boy could still recall the feeling of the stream's current pulling at him, the waves forcing his head under. It had taken only moments for the river to pump his lungs full of water, forcing any trace of air out of his mouth in a flurry of bubbles. Then came the pain, stinging at his eyes until they shut tight, bringing him out of consciousness. But I'm awake now, he thought to himself. I must find home. With that, he rose, making his way upstream.Up the River14 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
He felt awfully strange after the entire ordeal. Each of his footsteps felt light, as if he had just awoken from a peaceful sleep. Then again, Marcus surmised that he had been left on the shore for quite sometime, for he found himself to be dry. The only thing that hinted at him ever even being in peril was the raw feeling within his chest. The boy had tried to purge the feel
I came from the garden .:CREEPYPASTA:. I poured the packet of seeds into the hole I had dug and shoved the pile of dirt back into the hole sealing the seeds in their tomb. I watered them before heading back inside, “Mum the garden is planted!” I called at her, but she had no idea of the magic seeds I had planted, only did she know of the vegetables. I headed up to my room and sat down at my desk. A stack of drawing paper and quite a few pencils at my disposal. I picked up the pencil and began to let my imagination leak onto the white canvas of paper. It had been hours before I notice. It was night, hadn’t I just sat down? Surely I had but I could not recall. Half of my stack of clean paper had been crumbled or pushed to the side because I had finished drawing.I came from the garden .:CREEPYPASTA:.1 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
I shrugged and yawned before kicking off my shoes and climbing into bed. I pulled the covers over my head and let sleep devour me. When I awoke though…. Something, something was wrong. My mother was screaming, a blood curdling scr
Reflections of Masks (The Ramblings of Silence)It wasn't me. My reflection. It just wasn't me. I couldn't look at it. It wasn't me that stared back into my own eyes, it was a demon, a ghost, a monster. A killer.Reflections of Masks (The Ramblings of Silence)22 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
I used to like getting a glimpse of it. But only a glimpse. I couldn't stare at it for too long or else I'd get the same feeling as I do constantly now. That's why I occasionally wore a mask at home. Now I can't take it off. Now, even a mere picture of a portion of my face makes that same feeling overflow in me. Just imagining it makes my blood boil in it's fire.
What is the feeling? It's a shaking feeling. Literally and metaphorically speaking. Only I could feel it. No one I describe or described it to could. It wouldn't go away until I put a mask on. That's why I made so many. And that's why I still make them. Of course, it's still fun for me to make them after all these years, but it's also a necessity for myself.
Without the masks, I would have already stabbed myself just to see and taste my own blood
My MealLa la la, la la laMy Meal21 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
I hummed a tune that I heard from the radio the other day.
Just waiting around was boring, so I decided to note everything in the kitchen, I always did this when I was waiting for the meat to cook. So what's noticeable in my old kitchen? Well not much I mean the counter was the usual white marble, Boxes and jars scattered across the place, knives and forks (Spoons aren't as nice) of every kind placed carefully across the counter, never moved or touched unless needed. There were other objects such as a stove covered in mold and rats trapped inside the parts of the utilities, a hobby of mine.
I looked over at the clock above the oven that was salvaging my meal, the glass was cracked and like usual it was broken with the 3 hands pointing to the 6th hour,of the 6th minute, of the 6th second. It had been broken like this yesterday
and the day before,
and the week before that,
and the month before that,
and the years before that
It just stood there, longing to tick a
Ein apokalyptischer NachmittagEin apokalyptischer NachmittagEin apokalyptischer Nachmittag9 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
In der Ferne waren schwarze Gewitterwolken in Anmarsch.
Bedrohlich grollte der Donner, am Horizont zuckten Blitze als wären sie vom Hass der Welt erfüllt.
Der Wind wurde zum Sturm und das „dunkle Gebirge“ rückte immer näher, auf meine Position zu.
Gleich einer Herde großer, hässlicher schwarzer Büffel kam das Unheimliche mit schweren trommelnden Schritten.
Die Massen rückten – ich war schockiert – von allen vier Himmelsrichtungen an.
Ich schien im Zentrum etwas Fürchterlichen zu sein, oder war ich der Punkt an dem sich alles traf?
Umgestürzte Bäume wiesen wie die Hände verlorener Boten auf mich, zu spät als Warnung.
Und immer wieder hallte der Donner wie die Stimme eines mächtigen Giganten durch den unendlichen Himmel.
Und dann, als ich den Schrecken schon entgegen zu schweben schien, änderte der Sturm plötzlich seine Richtung: Er schoss empor und riss
Just A Dream Of A FriendYour mom called my mom and said she would like to go out of town for a few days and she didn’t want you to be alone, so she asked me to come over and stay with you; with a scared tone in her voice.Just A Dream Of A Friend17 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
I came over and our mothers talked for a while and then left. We said hi to each other, and right when we were about to go upstairs, I saw a strange figure outside. This figure was just a dark silhouette of a man, around five foot and six inches tall, and kind of muscular, but I passed it off as a random person walking outside.
We played Minecraft to kill time and later on you seemed worried about something. When I asked you what was wrong, you said “it’s about him...”, and then the black figure appeared again and vanished in the corner of the room, but I caught a glimpse of the look it gave you before vanishing. It was one of evil and a weird smirk of wanting you dead, but had another plan for you as well. At this point I was getting concerned about it.
I decided to
Under the Bed My limbs are lead, my eyes are stone and the world all dressed up in shadows around me roll like smooth tranquil waves. My bed molds around me in a soft caress as my blanket shelters me from the cool swooping air. An ocean breeze leaks through my open window bursting into my room with the salty scent I grew up with.Under the Bed21 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
The cool fresh air thick with moister tickles my uncovered face as I drift closer to slumber. The waves lap across the sand with such a tender swish, giving its love to the damp shore. I wiggle my toes practically feeling the cool grains giving to my weight and slipping between the cracks, crevices, and dips with in my feet, how they give and slide so easily.
My legs feel the beat of my heart as the pulse with a dull ache from my active day across the far stretching shore line. I reminisce in the cool support of sold stone smoother over millions of years, yet some still larger than me, and in the giving sand though each step across the