Fenix, my adorable cat. Rather my room mate's cat. I love him as though he was my own. Always purring, always affectionate, Fenix is my buddy. There was this odd time where he was more than a bit weird. It was a warm afternoon, with Fenix wanting to play. His fat feline frame bouncing on and off the couch in my room up in the attic. I was wrinkling up paper and tossing it for him to catch. After an hour or so, I was getting tired so I passed out on my couch with the purring cat in my arms being the last thing I felt.
A few hours later I woke up from my nap and saw the cat on the floor. He was laying there, as cozy as he ever was. I stumbled up out of the couch and started to walk towards him. Fenix hissed at me, his ears pulled back and eyes open wide. It threw me back. He'd never been this aggressive to me before. The cat's wide eyes met mine, then shot up to gaze above me. Fenix turned around and bolted away right before my tired, sleep filled eyes. Down the stairs he darted with a putter-patter at a rapid pace.
Still waking, I merely thought of how weird that was. Before I could think of anything else, I heard the deep, heavy breathing directly behind me. I felt hot air brush my neck, and I ran down the stairs as almost as fast as the cat.
I never saw what was behind me. I hope I never will.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Saturday, August 16, 2014
The Clawing Darkness Part One
Dolor house, is where it began. My
nightmares all turn to that melancholic place hidden in the woods. I
cannot sleep in my old age without dreaming of its fantasies and its
terrors. The eldritch dreams are still easy to recollect after all
these years, let alone the actual recollections of the events in that
mansion. I however cannot remember the location or the placement of
it's geography. If it's due to the mind at an old age, or rather that
the place never existed within this plane of reality, I'm not sure if
I will ever or want to find out.
As a youth I lived in a family estate on a small island inside of a lake. It was often referred to as a moat. The waters were more than fairly muddy, the fish plentiful in both variety and sheer amount. There was a very thick forest to the east of the lake, which I was prohibited from wandering into. Father often told me there was dragons lurking about while having a hearty chuckle. I obeyed mother's strict commands for not going into those very thick woods. Yet after some years it's mystery and adventuring invitations became to great to dismiss out of fear of my parents wrath. I grabbed a boat on the dock and paddled east.
Upon docking my boat, the air had a noticeable heft. Petrichor danced around the trees. It was mid day, yet a dimming of light seemed to fall along the ground. It was like dusk at lunchtime. I shook it off as cloud cover and pressed onward. Weaving through the foliage and trees in a wanderlust, I traveled deeper into the forbidden wood. For several hours I trekked into the thick until I came upon a cliff.
It was a deep, steep, ragged drop. A rocky verge leading to a bed of dead vegetation with rotting roots protruding through it's layers. I sat down at the cliff, enjoying the wonder of the environment; With a deep breath I let my imagination process those dragons father spoke of in this fantastical place. I couldn't figure out if I was pulled by my ankle, or rather the ground below me gave way. I began to slip and descend to the ground below. A great pain shot across my anatomy followed by nothingness.
As a youth I lived in a family estate on a small island inside of a lake. It was often referred to as a moat. The waters were more than fairly muddy, the fish plentiful in both variety and sheer amount. There was a very thick forest to the east of the lake, which I was prohibited from wandering into. Father often told me there was dragons lurking about while having a hearty chuckle. I obeyed mother's strict commands for not going into those very thick woods. Yet after some years it's mystery and adventuring invitations became to great to dismiss out of fear of my parents wrath. I grabbed a boat on the dock and paddled east.
Upon docking my boat, the air had a noticeable heft. Petrichor danced around the trees. It was mid day, yet a dimming of light seemed to fall along the ground. It was like dusk at lunchtime. I shook it off as cloud cover and pressed onward. Weaving through the foliage and trees in a wanderlust, I traveled deeper into the forbidden wood. For several hours I trekked into the thick until I came upon a cliff.
It was a deep, steep, ragged drop. A rocky verge leading to a bed of dead vegetation with rotting roots protruding through it's layers. I sat down at the cliff, enjoying the wonder of the environment; With a deep breath I let my imagination process those dragons father spoke of in this fantastical place. I couldn't figure out if I was pulled by my ankle, or rather the ground below me gave way. I began to slip and descend to the ground below. A great pain shot across my anatomy followed by nothingness.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
I think I've been here before.
Here I was at the university; my third year! I could finally go to a dig site and get hands on experience. Gobekli Tepe was the assignment. Located in turkey, it would be the farthest I'd travel from home here in the states. My excitement ran amok when I was told that less than five percent of the site had been explored. I could make archeological history on a simple assignment! I rushed to pack my things and rest for the upcoming trip.
The little bit of sleep I got was troubled at best. Odd dreams of rituals and sacrifice haunted me throughout the night. I brushed it off as anxiety and jitters from the trip. I told my parents I love them, kissed my girlfriend goodbye, and headed to the airport. Amazement on my mind and ambition in my intent, I was going to make a find.
During the flight, I was quite tired so I decide to get some shuteye. Those dreams kept coming back, of tribes and fire; of spirits and sacrifice. This time they were far more vivid. My professor woke me to get me to calm down during my sleep. Finally we made it to turkey.
The sun bearing down on me that first day was nearly unbearable, the work was brutal too. There was no major findings to speak of. Yet the sheer excitement never left my face even for a second. It took minutes for the simple assignment to become a labor of love. Professor Milton was more than excited to see my work ethic flourish on the field. I couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity though. It was a wicked case of Deja Vu.
On day three, after extensive digging we came across a finding: a skeleton. The nearly complete skeletal remains of a person, Missing a few ribs, a foot, and it's hands. The professor said by looking at the pelvis we can make an educated guess that it was a male, possibly in his 20's. He had been there a while by the looks of it. Then someone said they found a watch fossilized in stone which caused a huge hush. While everybody was talking about it, I found my piece of history. It looked like a talon made of nickel or some shiny metal.
So I picked it up and everything went black.
Oh god, I've been here before. They're cutting off my hands! Help me! I'm here! I'm not supposed to be here!
Professor Milton spent two weeks to find Micheal to no avail. He told Micheal's family, assuming he died due to exposure. The professor went to task identifying the watch for investigation. After brushing off sediment he cam across some writing on the back. While he couldn't get it all cleared up, one word was fully visible: Mike. So he thumbed through the school photos and there it was, Micheal's lucky watch.
The little bit of sleep I got was troubled at best. Odd dreams of rituals and sacrifice haunted me throughout the night. I brushed it off as anxiety and jitters from the trip. I told my parents I love them, kissed my girlfriend goodbye, and headed to the airport. Amazement on my mind and ambition in my intent, I was going to make a find.
During the flight, I was quite tired so I decide to get some shuteye. Those dreams kept coming back, of tribes and fire; of spirits and sacrifice. This time they were far more vivid. My professor woke me to get me to calm down during my sleep. Finally we made it to turkey.
The sun bearing down on me that first day was nearly unbearable, the work was brutal too. There was no major findings to speak of. Yet the sheer excitement never left my face even for a second. It took minutes for the simple assignment to become a labor of love. Professor Milton was more than excited to see my work ethic flourish on the field. I couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity though. It was a wicked case of Deja Vu.
On day three, after extensive digging we came across a finding: a skeleton. The nearly complete skeletal remains of a person, Missing a few ribs, a foot, and it's hands. The professor said by looking at the pelvis we can make an educated guess that it was a male, possibly in his 20's. He had been there a while by the looks of it. Then someone said they found a watch fossilized in stone which caused a huge hush. While everybody was talking about it, I found my piece of history. It looked like a talon made of nickel or some shiny metal.
So I picked it up and everything went black.
Oh god, I've been here before. They're cutting off my hands! Help me! I'm here! I'm not supposed to be here!
Professor Milton spent two weeks to find Micheal to no avail. He told Micheal's family, assuming he died due to exposure. The professor went to task identifying the watch for investigation. After brushing off sediment he cam across some writing on the back. While he couldn't get it all cleared up, one word was fully visible: Mike. So he thumbed through the school photos and there it was, Micheal's lucky watch.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Two sentence horror stories.
The last man on earth was in his locked room reading a book. His concentration was broken by a knock at the door.
Disregard what you have heard about the boogeyman. The creature has no problem wearing the skins of it's victims.
I couldn't stand the barking dog just outside to my bedroom window at night. I became terrified because I realized I live on the 5th floor.
As a single man living alone, I was startled by the doll I discovered in my bedroom. Countless attempts to throw it away have failed.
Seeing my daughter after all these years was strange. Her body hadn't decomposed at all in the past 20 years.
Prison is a bitch. Especially when you're the only one locked in there.
This bathtub has a terrible clog. The blood just simply won't go down the drain.
Despite what anyone says, I'm fine. Please help me.
Tonight's meal was simply delicious! The little girl went well with the side of potatoes.
I peered into the darkness of the train tunnel with mild fear and curiosity as I said "I'm just paranoid." The darkness whispered back "No you're not".
The tendrils keep reaching my windows. I cannot fight them back much longer.
I awoke in the spring afternoon from the comfort of my bed. To my horror my intestines and blood were covering my covers.
Disregard what you have heard about the boogeyman. The creature has no problem wearing the skins of it's victims.
I couldn't stand the barking dog just outside to my bedroom window at night. I became terrified because I realized I live on the 5th floor.
As a single man living alone, I was startled by the doll I discovered in my bedroom. Countless attempts to throw it away have failed.
Seeing my daughter after all these years was strange. Her body hadn't decomposed at all in the past 20 years.
Prison is a bitch. Especially when you're the only one locked in there.
This bathtub has a terrible clog. The blood just simply won't go down the drain.
Despite what anyone says, I'm fine. Please help me.
Tonight's meal was simply delicious! The little girl went well with the side of potatoes.
I peered into the darkness of the train tunnel with mild fear and curiosity as I said "I'm just paranoid." The darkness whispered back "No you're not".
The tendrils keep reaching my windows. I cannot fight them back much longer.
I awoke in the spring afternoon from the comfort of my bed. To my horror my intestines and blood were covering my covers.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Weird image in my downloads: Creepy IRL
This is an image I found in my downloads folder on my PC. I don't remember ever downloading this image. I couldn't see much, so I ran it into Gimp(an image editing software.) I assumed it was a wallet pic or just a bad image a friend took.
After increasing brightness and contrast quite a bit, this was the best I could get. The room definitely isn't in my home, none of my friends have hats like the one in the image. Kinda looks like there's a dog on the couch, and a book on a coffee table. A doll is hanging on the wall. It's all quite eerie.
I've been checking my download history, I can't find this image on there. Google reverse image search has brought me nothing. It's all quite odd.
I've been checking my download history, I can't find this image on there. Google reverse image search has brought me nothing. It's all quite odd.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Mignas
There's a story around these parts about Jesse and Mignas. A few long years ago, Jesse was a young girl, around the age of 5 or 6. Quite the introvert, Jesse did not play well with kids. She had an imaginary friend that the young girl named "Mignas". Her parents were puzzled by the name, it definitely didn't sound like something a young lady would have in her developing vocabulary; maybe she made it up from a compound word, or a storybook. Her parents thought that an imaginary friend would harm her social skills as a child. So they decided to get her a toy, a toy to share with others when playing: a puppet. Jesse could play with the puppet and entertain the other children.
They had a toy crafted from a dutch immigrant toy maker from around these parts, his shop's still around, although it's an abandoned little building now. Willem's toy shop. The puppet was quite expensive, made from solid oak, painted beautifully with great care, strung up with wool, and quite nicely accessorized with little wooden toys to fit the hands of the puppet. It was artwork as much as it was a plaything. They were quite happy and rushed to take it home before little Jesse made it home from kindergarten class.
Jesse's parents died in a fatal car accident on the way. You can still find records of it at the library from those news strips. It looked like a sudden stop followed by jerking the wheel caused the car to flip. The were found buy the school bus driver taking Jesse home. In the wreckage police found a damaged, albeit well crafted wooden box with Jessie's name on it. It was released to the poor girls aunt to give to her. The puppet remained intact for the child to play with.
Upon receiving the toy, the girl lit up with a wonderful smile. She also called it Mignas, his name was carved into his feet and she began to hold puppet shows on the street for the other kids. The puppet helped her tell stories of magical lands and amazing adventure. The kids around the block spoke of sir Mignas the brave, of Mignas the candy giver, and so on. Little Jesse was very happy and made great friends. For two whole years Mignas was her outlet for stories and her way of making friends.
Jessica was starting second grade, and wanted to take Mignas to show and tell. She wanted to show her teacher all the stories and adventure the puppet could have. Mignas was a bit faded, and a bit worn, but the smile upon his wooden face was as wide as it ever has been. The puppet and the girl started with knock-knock jokes, followed by the tale of Mignas flying in a plane, and reaching a climax with the puppet dancing. Everyone cheered until the puppet hurled into the air, striking a child. The wooden body of Mignas became covered in blood. The boy's skull had been cracked open. The young girl was sent home and suspended that day. She kept claiming that the puppet jumped from her hands.
The next day, Jesse was nowhere to be seen. Her aunt did not come into work as well. Three days went by until an officer came by to check on the house. What the found was terrible and gruesome. The town was horrified by the gruesome nature of the discovery. Jessica's aunt was found in her bedroom, with a wool string tightly pulled around her neck. Her skin was ripped from her flesh in a grotesque manner across her belly, her scalp torn off, and her eyes plucked out. A stagnant pool of blood on the floor under the bed. The worst was yet to come.
Jesse's frail body was hanging by three wool strings across her neck, slashes striped her back. Blood caressed her body, but the blood wasn't pooled. Across the wall, red lettering spattered the walls into three words:
A few weeks later, Willem's toy shop suffered extensive fire damage and Willem was found dead inside, with extensive burns. Police filed various reports and investigated thoroughly. The town was terrified, and the local paper assumed it was the act of a serial killer.
We don't go around Willem's toy shop. Late at night you can hear the clacking of wood in that building.
They had a toy crafted from a dutch immigrant toy maker from around these parts, his shop's still around, although it's an abandoned little building now. Willem's toy shop. The puppet was quite expensive, made from solid oak, painted beautifully with great care, strung up with wool, and quite nicely accessorized with little wooden toys to fit the hands of the puppet. It was artwork as much as it was a plaything. They were quite happy and rushed to take it home before little Jesse made it home from kindergarten class.
Jesse's parents died in a fatal car accident on the way. You can still find records of it at the library from those news strips. It looked like a sudden stop followed by jerking the wheel caused the car to flip. The were found buy the school bus driver taking Jesse home. In the wreckage police found a damaged, albeit well crafted wooden box with Jessie's name on it. It was released to the poor girls aunt to give to her. The puppet remained intact for the child to play with.
Upon receiving the toy, the girl lit up with a wonderful smile. She also called it Mignas, his name was carved into his feet and she began to hold puppet shows on the street for the other kids. The puppet helped her tell stories of magical lands and amazing adventure. The kids around the block spoke of sir Mignas the brave, of Mignas the candy giver, and so on. Little Jesse was very happy and made great friends. For two whole years Mignas was her outlet for stories and her way of making friends.
Jessica was starting second grade, and wanted to take Mignas to show and tell. She wanted to show her teacher all the stories and adventure the puppet could have. Mignas was a bit faded, and a bit worn, but the smile upon his wooden face was as wide as it ever has been. The puppet and the girl started with knock-knock jokes, followed by the tale of Mignas flying in a plane, and reaching a climax with the puppet dancing. Everyone cheered until the puppet hurled into the air, striking a child. The wooden body of Mignas became covered in blood. The boy's skull had been cracked open. The young girl was sent home and suspended that day. She kept claiming that the puppet jumped from her hands.
The next day, Jesse was nowhere to be seen. Her aunt did not come into work as well. Three days went by until an officer came by to check on the house. What the found was terrible and gruesome. The town was horrified by the gruesome nature of the discovery. Jessica's aunt was found in her bedroom, with a wool string tightly pulled around her neck. Her skin was ripped from her flesh in a grotesque manner across her belly, her scalp torn off, and her eyes plucked out. A stagnant pool of blood on the floor under the bed. The worst was yet to come.
Jesse's frail body was hanging by three wool strings across her neck, slashes striped her back. Blood caressed her body, but the blood wasn't pooled. Across the wall, red lettering spattered the walls into three words:
MIGNAS IS GOD
A few weeks later, Willem's toy shop suffered extensive fire damage and Willem was found dead inside, with extensive burns. Police filed various reports and investigated thoroughly. The town was terrified, and the local paper assumed it was the act of a serial killer.
We don't go around Willem's toy shop. Late at night you can hear the clacking of wood in that building.
Friday, March 14, 2014
Contract Killer
With excitement Ronald walked up to the sedan with his briefcase. After a lucky jackpot the grizzled bastard won a good sum of $20,000 in the lotto. After years of being bitter, and hating the world around him, only one good cause was in Ron's head for that cash: revenge. It took a bit of time to find a hit man, because Ron is a special kind of stupid. The kind of stupid that doesn't have any self inflection. The middle aged man held a spite for many of his issues on a great deal of people. Yet he failed to see his own follies.
He opened the door to the car. A blast of a mixture of gunpowder and leather assaulted his nostrils. Ron powered through the stench and sat down to meet Mack, his contract killer. "Hey there Ronnie!", the man sitting in the drivers seat said cheerfully. The car door closed; the sedan drove away.
Ron was surprised on how friendly Mack sounded. They went through a burger joint's drive through, grabbed lunch and sat in the car in a parking lot just a few blocks from a church on the outskirts of town. Mack's light demeanor despite his alleged profession put Ron in a state of suspicion. Ron blurted out "Are you really a killer?", only to see Mack let of a smooth chuckle before putting down his burger. The hit man pulled his wallet from his jeans, and revealed some photos. Photographic proof of various jobs he'd completed.
Mack had a charm to him. Something like you'd see in a TV show about the kind prince off to save the princess. He was almost half Ron's age; he looked good and positive where Ron looked angry and tired. Ron was shocked to see a 20-something be capable of doing these things in the photos. But here the photos were, in front of him. Mack holding up a corpse as he was still in frame for the picture in some kind of twisted selfie with his young charm still protruding from the picture. It was odd and puzzling to Ron.
Mack broke the silence, "Who's my target?", almost sounding like he was accepting a task with an eager willingness to face any challenge. Ron opened his suitcase to pull out two folders. "There's two people I'd like you to ki-". He was hushed by the killer. Mack looked at him and stated, "I don't use that word. Dealt with, silenced, finished off, whacked, put out, anything but that word." His charm never went away. Like an actor, Ron thought to himself, this guy always plays it cool.
Mack read both files, put his hand through his blonde hair, let out a breath, and said, "Ron, we got a problem." The customer turned white, thinking this was a trap. set up by the cops. "Dude, yer short on cash for me to do both these jobs." W-What?", Ron stuttered. "I have 20 grand! I thought that would be enough!" Ron hated coming up short. It burned him something bad that he did not have enough to fulfill his one goal and the attitude of Mack started to get to him after the news. "One of these jobs requires me to drive out of state, that's and extra two thousand my friend. How about we weigh your options and you pick one, for now?"
Ron was forced between Sarah, his younger sister, and Jessica, his ex wife. Sarah, who gained all of the attention, all of the praise, and in the end, all of the inheritance in the family. She was a rotten, stuck up bitch who forced him to live in her shadow. When she succeeded, Ron found his whiskey. When Ron asked for help, she left him homeless.Then there was Jessica, that thieving, cheating woman wrecked Ron's life for ten long years. It was a difficult choice to make.
After a while, Ron came up with a fun idea. His brilliance shocked even him. His graying features met the youthful killers and he started to tell him the idea. "How about this one? You pick out which one caused me more trouble, don't tell me, and I pay you the full 20,000? I'll be surprised by it." Mack let out a hearty laugh,"You are crazy dude, you sure?" Ron nodded his head with a grin. They both had a laugh. Then the gun went off in the car, half of Ron's head splattered against the windshield. "You're the cause of all your own problems buddy.", The hit man said as he left the car, cash in hand.
He opened the door to the car. A blast of a mixture of gunpowder and leather assaulted his nostrils. Ron powered through the stench and sat down to meet Mack, his contract killer. "Hey there Ronnie!", the man sitting in the drivers seat said cheerfully. The car door closed; the sedan drove away.
Ron was surprised on how friendly Mack sounded. They went through a burger joint's drive through, grabbed lunch and sat in the car in a parking lot just a few blocks from a church on the outskirts of town. Mack's light demeanor despite his alleged profession put Ron in a state of suspicion. Ron blurted out "Are you really a killer?", only to see Mack let of a smooth chuckle before putting down his burger. The hit man pulled his wallet from his jeans, and revealed some photos. Photographic proof of various jobs he'd completed.
Mack had a charm to him. Something like you'd see in a TV show about the kind prince off to save the princess. He was almost half Ron's age; he looked good and positive where Ron looked angry and tired. Ron was shocked to see a 20-something be capable of doing these things in the photos. But here the photos were, in front of him. Mack holding up a corpse as he was still in frame for the picture in some kind of twisted selfie with his young charm still protruding from the picture. It was odd and puzzling to Ron.
Mack broke the silence, "Who's my target?", almost sounding like he was accepting a task with an eager willingness to face any challenge. Ron opened his suitcase to pull out two folders. "There's two people I'd like you to ki-". He was hushed by the killer. Mack looked at him and stated, "I don't use that word. Dealt with, silenced, finished off, whacked, put out, anything but that word." His charm never went away. Like an actor, Ron thought to himself, this guy always plays it cool.
Mack read both files, put his hand through his blonde hair, let out a breath, and said, "Ron, we got a problem." The customer turned white, thinking this was a trap. set up by the cops. "Dude, yer short on cash for me to do both these jobs." W-What?", Ron stuttered. "I have 20 grand! I thought that would be enough!" Ron hated coming up short. It burned him something bad that he did not have enough to fulfill his one goal and the attitude of Mack started to get to him after the news. "One of these jobs requires me to drive out of state, that's and extra two thousand my friend. How about we weigh your options and you pick one, for now?"
Ron was forced between Sarah, his younger sister, and Jessica, his ex wife. Sarah, who gained all of the attention, all of the praise, and in the end, all of the inheritance in the family. She was a rotten, stuck up bitch who forced him to live in her shadow. When she succeeded, Ron found his whiskey. When Ron asked for help, she left him homeless.Then there was Jessica, that thieving, cheating woman wrecked Ron's life for ten long years. It was a difficult choice to make.
After a while, Ron came up with a fun idea. His brilliance shocked even him. His graying features met the youthful killers and he started to tell him the idea. "How about this one? You pick out which one caused me more trouble, don't tell me, and I pay you the full 20,000? I'll be surprised by it." Mack let out a hearty laugh,"You are crazy dude, you sure?" Ron nodded his head with a grin. They both had a laugh. Then the gun went off in the car, half of Ron's head splattered against the windshield. "You're the cause of all your own problems buddy.", The hit man said as he left the car, cash in hand.
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