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Secret of Wilhaven, part 10
    The creature lunged.  Anne let out a shriek and squeezed the trigger, popping off two rounds before the creature landed squarely on her chest.  She let out a cry as it’s gaping maw reached for her face, and then licked it!
    It was Butcher,  Frank’s dog!
    “Down boy!  Down!”
    She pushed the dog off her.  “Where’d you come from?”
    “What is it?” asked Razor.
    “It’s Butcher!  The sheriff’s dog!”
    “Oh, that’s why this thing didn’t work.”
    “Wow... you figure that one out by yourself?” cracked Anne, sarcastically.
    “Hahaa.  We still need to keep moving.”
    The dog sniffed around th
:iconstrider1785:strider1785 3 0
The Grey Box With the Cuckoo House In It
Sky blue purple, it's green moss shadow, with rotten orange colors of the Sun & two vampiric red dots blinking down from the high mist clouds of the night sky, & from the taste of metal & brick & glass, which the rain like the stuff of teddy bear fluff, stitches, the building seeming to stand to wait as the electrical current in the wires continued to pass by, all this just like the stuff of teddy bear quiet, silence, & without any sense of surprise.
Then with red dots, blinking down from the hightower & sky, the glass seemed to move itself away from the night, away from the year even, the rain like the stuff of teddy bear fluff, & from inside someone's mind, while they slept dreaming in tempo to the rain, a dream with the lovely color of nightmare all about it & the two vampirical dots blinking in the night, as though a clock with a cuckoo inside, giving tempo to the sleeper & waiting to go away when the sun should arise. The dream reminding the waking sleeper of something like a grey
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Queen Amunet
Names have powerful meanings. some meant good luck, beauty, or wisdom. Other sometimes meant a phrase like full of grace. Her name meant “The hidden one”. Queen Amunet was named after the Egyptian Goddess of Mystery, she was full of mysteries. No one knew the reason of why she never showed any emotion rather that disgust, no portrait of her had her smiling.
In fact, as her name meant, she was completely isolated majority of her time. No one knew where she went or when she returned. She was quiet, she rarely spoke to someone, and she always frowned. Her kingdom feared her, her quietness and her mysteries made them feel fear. Everyone thought she might have committed crimes that no one knew, but there was no prove or evidence of that. But no one was sure until a midnight.
One midnight, Queen Amunet arrived. No one dare to ask where. She refused any help of her servants, they obeyed without any hesitation. She ordered a hot bath, but warned that she’ll cut their head if
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The Jester's Child - ch. 2
Motley stood before the wall monster Golgarach, his arms folded, his jaw set in determination. He'd already got the first two of the wall monster's riddles right, and now he was listening grimly to the third. He hoped for a perfect score: if he got it, then he had the chance to command Golgarach to release any information he had on Hennae's whereabouts.
"Camels," he replied. "The ships of the desert were called camels."
Golgarach blinked. "Truth accepted," he announced. Motley said nothing. The wall monsters lived in the fabric of the walls of Knightmare dungeon; they listened to and saw a lot, even when they chose not to reveal themselves - which was often, by all accounts. They were the best grapevine down here. "The password is Chalkpit; no other information is necessary, dungeon dweller," the monster concluded. "Rock I was, and rock I now become."
Motley spoke clearly to get the wall monster's attention before he disappeared entirely. "I command you. Tell me where Hennae's
:iconcharacterconsultancy:characterconsultancy 1 0
The reactor is unstable.
That had been the final words Dr. Larson heard from her colleagues before the flash, rumble, and screams. She sat in the corner of her locked office, eyes red and body trembling. She had not the vaguest idea of what was occurring in the halls beyond the door.
It certainly sounded strange; shouting, heavy thuds, and shrieks and gasps. Though now, it was mostly the thuds. Slow thuds. And a handful of beeps.
Larson listened as quietly as she could. Both hands were clamped firmly over her mouth to mask her sobs. The collection of intermittent noises from the hall interrupted an otherwise still silence. They would come and go, sometimes past her own door, thudding and beeping to either end of the 4th floor of the Hewitt Energy office building. Once or twice a thud had stopped at the door, pausing for a whole three seconds before wandering off.
Shaking, Larson retrieved her phone. It was a cracked mess; the nasty result of a fall from her pocket. She vainly thumbed t
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Lost At Sea
Calypso was an enduring mystery to the folk of Gardenos, one of the many small towns of the south-western part of the Greek island of Corfu. For more than three decades had the derelict fishing trawler sat on common ground, far from the nearest harbour or, for that matter, the sea. Time and neglect had taken their toll on the ageing craft, its sun bleached, once blue-painted timbers and buttressed hull starkly contrasting the lushness of its surroundings. Its keeper, 'Ole Kosta', was also something of a mystery and the subject of much speculation as to whether it was him who was seen roaming the deck of the old vessel in the dead of night or some frightening phantom laying in wait for those foolhardy enough to enter its domain. Whatever the truth, nobody dared visit the site after sunset. But Elias Trevis, unlike his young peers, was not so intimidated by the old boat or the old man. And he'd come up with an audacious plan, and now it was time to put it in action. An impenetrable fog h
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Mr. Mortality and the Heart Collector (Part 4)
    A cry split the air and the Jack of Hearts grinned.
    The spirit swooped down from the roof like a vulture, leaving Michael alone.
    There was a sound of a short scuffle and then silence.
    Suddenly it felt as though a great weight had been lifted from the young man's soul, and he could breathe again. And with that, his mind went from trapped in a bog of despair to dashing off at a mile a minute.
    What had become of Mr. Mortality? Was he dead?
    Why had they come here? What had the Reaper thought they could accomplish?
    How was killer able to see his victims without eyes?
    And most importantly: how was Michael going to get out of this mess alive, with no angel to protect him?
    For a few moments, Michael couldn't bring himself to move. If Mortality were dead, surely Dr. Grimm would return, and he dared not make himself more noticeable.
:icondarlingwrites:DarlingWrites 2 1
FNAF dream 33
the night of February 19th 2018, in the dream I was turning on my computer when something wasn't right, there were 3 icons in the taskbar already opened, two of them were "It's Me" with the icons having "it's me" written in blood dripping red text over and over and over again, I closed them and found the third icon to be Guitar Hero III: Legends Of Rock, but that can't be, I never owned that game for PC, just PS2, what's worse is it didn't have the normal icon, it also was in blood dripping red text, I closed it too and that's when I woke up
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"Human denial is a curious thing." he said. "You'll put up with a daunting prospect or event purely because you believe that it will somehow get better. It's a trait that can guarantee survival, but there is a finer line between survival and destruction than most people think. It usually only takes one thing to tip someone over the edge; whether that factor is positive or negative will determine the outcome. Everyone has the power to tip themselves in their favour, however few people realise that in time, and it's only when you've fallen one way that you realise the full impact the other way would have had, for better or worse. But by being in denial about the whole situation, you create and illusion that keeps you safe but also blind. And if you stumble the wrong way, it can end terribly."
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name is Adma. I live in parallel dimension next to yours. But also I
live in the same world as you. I have always strange, odd dreams. My
imagination and creativity is frightenning. My being is very
different from the other people´s being.

am angel of Water, I am Empress - Highpriestess of Moon and Magic, I
am green-red-white Dragon, I am Equilibrium.

no Omamori, my heart is Amulet of Light.

drop the letter on shrine´s floor and shuddered.

I am here? I already must have been in school! What is happening to
me now?"

Himura Kin
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The Pages... (Ch. 1)
Hale had to keep moving, the forest being his only chance. The forest was supposed to be haunted, and since many paranormal researchers had gone missing there, the young boy might be able to lose the muggers chasing him. Hale didn't have much, owning only the clothes on his back and a golden watch with the word 'Hale' on it.
The first man was of a smaller build, seemed quicker with a knife than a gun, and had hints of many a knife fight. The other man was big, burly, looked kinda like he could've been a professional wrestler. Both were armed with pistols and were keeping good time with Hale.
He pushed himself as hard as he could and reached the forest, but when he looked back, the muggers were still following. Desperate and tiring out, the young boy started weaving in and out from between the trees. "Get back here you little..." That's all he heard before he rushed into an old abandoned building, leaping over a table that was tipped onto a chair and crouching low enough that he could s
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The Jester's Child - ch. 1
The sun sank toward the horizon, and as it did so it reached out through the sparse clouds in luminescent tendils, as if unwilling to let this corner of the world go. The dying light illuminated the walls of Dunshelm, better known to many as Knightmare Castle, always fading, fading. Weaker still it lit parts of the dungeon below, filtering in through glass windows and roofs, and cracks in the rock. And down there, in a humble little cell that led from an unassuming corridor with an incongruous glass ceiling, the light did its last work for the day.
Motley picked Hennae up from the soft sheepskin rug where he'd been playing with her. Hennae, his daughter of only one month, loved to have her feet moved and to be sung to softly. That was easy for her father, Motley; the jester, the professional performer, the joker of Knightmare dungeon.
"That's right, isn't it, honeysuckle," he said to her conversationally, his voice lowered to a soothing yet lilting tone. "Your daddy's the best comic in
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The Jester's Child - ch. 5
Motley had been struck with cramp from top to toe - even his face hurt. His limbs were stiff and almost useless with pain. However much he stretched, he couldn't seem to get rid. Part of him just wanted to curl up until the pain disappeared. But one thing kept his arms and legs moving: his need to get to Hennae. Eyes shut tightly - partly because of the cramp, partly because of the fear of seeing Mogdred turn to face him - he turned onto his front and levered himself up onto his hands and knees. He let himself be guided by Hennae's whimpering.
Now she was directly above him; now the sound was closer as he wrenched his body into a kneeling position; now he felt her swaddling as he put every bit of effort he could into uncurling his fingers; now he reached over her to get a grip on her - and he had her! He scooped her from the tabletop and hugged her close against his chest. Her cry sounded strange: he'd never heard her cry like this before. Was she in pain? Had Mogdred worked enough mag
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The Jester's Child - ch. 3
Meanwhile, all was rather more relaxed in Lillith's stony lair. The demi-goddess lounged comfortably on her rock, examining herself in a hand mirror. Her hair was in excellent condition, she noted, but her skin was a different matter: it virtually appalled her! It was tight and dry. She needed to hydrate herself.
Somebody appeared across the way. She looked up haughtily, expecting a dungeoneer, only to find her expectation disappointed. Why, that was no dungeoneer! Instead stood that prattling moron Motley. Three weeks ago he and his little misfit wench had barged in here, squealing and laughing like five-year-olds. She'd shown them exactly what she'd thought of that: she'd swept the girl down into the depths, killing her instantly. The jester she spared, so that he could reflect on this. Maybe that would teach him to learn a little self-control. She deliberately affected a look of being distinctly underwhelmed by his presence. "I see. You've come back, have you?"
The fool look
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The Jester's Child - ch. 4
Merlin tilted his head in response to Ben's incorrect answer. He'd just asked the boy two questions, only one of which had been answered correctly. Usually that meant that he wouldn't give the dungeoneer any magic, but at this stage of the game, that would be Ben's death knell. He decided, on this occasion, that he would let the boy off and gift him with magic. In such unusual circumstances he could hardly sit by and let Motley's groundwork to go waste.
"Falsehood," he began regretfully. "That isn't the truth I sought. That's one correct answer. Ahead lies the deepest part of the dungeon, level three, and there resides Mogdred, my alter. I cannot help you with him directly as we must never be in eachother's presence; we are two incompatible halves of the same entity, and the result of our proximity would be inconceivable. However, he has the jester's daughter and intends to practise magic on her, and he must be stopped. When you have banished him you must call me. My calling na
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