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 Thoughts, Sanguine and Sick: The Second Anthology, Time to start again...
alliterator
 Posted: Jun 15 2013, 07:23 AM
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The Jerkface Man
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Okay, so these are all tentative ideas (as well as the title - please suggest better ones).

Section One: Flashes of Old Fears
Small stories of all the Fears from the first anthology: the Archangel, the Black Dog, the Blind Man, the Choir, the Cold Boy, the Convocation, EAT, the Empty City, the Eye, the Grotesque, the Intrusion, Jack of All, the Manufactured Newborn, the Mother of Snakes, the Nightlanders, the Plague Doctor, the Quiet, the Smiling Man, the Unnamed Child, and the Wooden Girl.

Section Two: Flashes of New Fears
Small stories of all Fears and Fear Candidates not included in the above section: the Algernon Forest, the Brute, the Burning Bride, the Deep, the Glitch, the House of Fortune, the Ivory Woman, the King in the Mountain, the Man in Gray, Nobody, the Red Cap, the Unbounded Face, the Vision, the Woman in the Wind.

Section Three: Faces, Known and Unknown
Longer stories featuring all of the Fears and Fear Candidates. The stories can either feature a Fear alone or two or three different Fears.

As for the stories in this one, I would like them all to be original - none from the blog itself. I will probably do some Creepypasta Contests, then, so we can have enough stories like last time.


Faces, Strange and Secret: An Anthology of Stories from da Fears Mythos: on sale from Amazon, Kindle, and Smashwords

My Finished Stories.

My Ongoing Stories:
Channel Fear (informational, educational, cynical)
The Supernatural Anaesthetist (seeing where science takes us)
Once There Was (the king is the kingdom)
An Old Man's Winter Night (at the winter of the world)
Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed (working for the man)
The Secret History of the World (unstuck in time)
Notes from the Underground (a place to stay)
Phantasmagorical (a bedtime story)
Paranoia: A Manifesto (wrecking the wall)
The Day The Music Died (running from sound and sorrow)
Abraham's Men (knights, ghosts, and shadows)
Pest Control (pulling the wings off of flies)
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alliterator
 Posted: Jun 15 2013, 07:32 AM
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The Jerkface Man
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We already have some submissions. I'll post them here so other people can look at them and check for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

"Amazing Grace" by Daemonette (Empty City)
QUOTE
He once was lost.

He was lost in a city he had never seen before, surrounded by people speaking in a language he didn’t understand. He had never been adventurous but his friends had always told him about the wonders of backpacking. His friends had sent him to find himself.

He was lost in a city he had never seen before, in passages he had never walked. He walked up a step and into a door. He cannot remember why he did – food, directions, what did it matter now? He was lost in a city he had never seen before, surrounded by silence and stone.

He once was young. He lost his youth to the passage of time. He saw no sun to guide his way. He saw no moon to give him rest. He forgot vanity, and he forgot time, just as his hair forgot its pigment and his bones forgot their strength. He forgot sleep and he forgot food. He lost his youth to the passages of the city.

He once had hope. He lost his hope in the silence. He saw no door to take him home. He saw no birds in the sky above. He saw no insects on the ground below. He saw no life around him. He saw no life in himself. He lost his hope in his breath.

He once was sane. He lost his sanity between two stones. He lost his sanity in a city where all paths looked the same, where all doors lead to the same place, and where there was no sound except that of stone against stone and his own breath.

He lost his sanity in the ever-changing city, the moving labyrinth, where all changes and yet remains the same. He lost his sanity in the sounds of stone.

He once knew himself. He lost himself somewhere, he didn’t remember. He never could decide when it happened. Perhaps it was when he lost his mind, or maybe his dreams. Or maybe when was when he lost his way in that crowded city from so long ago, when he walked through that door. He lost himself between the doorframes.

He once was lost. He lost himself in an empty city, but now found his way. He once was lost. He found himself by the door that started it all.

He did not know himself. The years had changed him so much; his hair to grey, his skin to leather, his clothes to rags, his hopes to despair, and his mind to dust.

He did not know himself. He looked upon the face of the empty city and ran for help.

He ran for the nearest door.

***

He once was lost.

He was a tourist in a city he had never been before, surrounded by people speaking in a language he didn’t understand.

He found himself at the door where he lost himself.

He had walked through the door to find help for the dying old man at its feet. He had walked through the door to help himself.

He once was lost.

And he will lose himself again.


"The Honeymoon's Over" by Daemonette (Burning Bride)
QUOTE
Her husband never yelled at her. He never hit her either. "A real man doesn't hit women," he always said. He just...didn't quite understand her. Like when she cried at chick-flicks or when she got moody at that time of the month. She swore that he was more sensitive when they were dating, but after two years of marriage it felt as though he had changed. She didn't think things had changed. Admittedly she'd chosen to be a housewife but she didn't think that was much of change. Now they were fighting all the time.

He never understood how hard she worked to keep his house in order. Forty shirts, washed and ironed; twenty dishes, cleaned and stacked; eight knives, sharpened and stored; ten rooms to vacuum and dust...

The list goes on and on.

They had discussed this before they got married. He had been okay with it. Maybe it was an adjustment period? But surely it would never take this long...

They needed to talk. Not argue, but talk. Really talk. She would make everything perfect tonight. He would be happy, and she would be happy, and they would talk all this out.

Lamb chops – his favourite dinner. She spent hours getting the recipe just right – the timing, the seasoning, the rare-to-cooked ratio. Nothing would ruin this. She watched the cooking meat with hawklike diligence – she couldn't let it burn.

A flicker caught her eye – those flames looked too large for level three. She turned the knob on the stove, but the flames remained unchanged. They danced and flickered before her eyes, entrancing and bright.

He doesn't appreciate you. The blue and orange tones flares as a thought entered her mind. If he did, then he wouldn't be arguing with you.

He doesn't care about how hard you try to please him. He doesn't care that you're only looking out for your future.

The idea seized her, and every argument they had replayed in her mind as the flames leapt up as though sympathetic to her private indignity. Weren't they all about her housework and her job? Were they ever about him? He didn't appreciate her.

He lied about wanting this.

He doesn't appreciate me.


He never appreciated how hard she worked to keep his house in order. Forty shirts, washed and ironed; twenty dishes, cleaned and stacked; seven knives, sharpened and stored; ten rooms to vacuum and dust...

The list goes on and on.


"Perfect" by Daemonette (Mother of Snakes & Cold Boy)
QUOTE
Click.

The bathroom lock was usually a reassuring sound to her, but she was too far in her own head to hear it.

She had just been to the movies with her boyfriend, their hands interlocked and her head on his shoulder, when it happened. He told her he didn't deserve her, that she was too wonderful for him. She had smiled and told him he was wrong as she had always done. She never said what she was really thinking: that she was the one who didn't deserve him. He didn't know what she had done.

I don't deserve you. You don't know what I did. The thoughts assailed her as she started to cry.

She had never done much. She didn't drink, or smoke. She's never even had sex. She always tried to be a good girl. She always tried to be perfect.

But she wasn't. She had made a mistake. She couldn't even bring herself to tell him. She couldn't forgive herself for what she did, so how could he?

I don't deserve you. You don't know what I did. Her knees weakened and she sunk to the floor. The tiles were so cold.

Her mother didn't think she deserved this relationship – that she "tricked" him into it. Maybe she did. Maybe she manipulated him into liking her. After all, there was no reason he would have fallen for her normally. She had to trick him.

I don't deserve you. You don't know what I did. Sobs racked her small frame, so much so she couldn't breathe. A cold place was starting to grow in her heart, like it did every time she found herself here.

She made a mistake and she couldn't tell him – but one person could. The one person who could tell him how utterly unworthy she was. Her mind raced to what might happen then – what would happen then. He would leave her, she knew he would. He would leave and she would be alone again.

I love you. Please don't go. She hugged herself tighter, as though she hoped to contain the cold – to stop it from spreading.

She wasn't a good person; that much was evident from how she felt about this person, this person who could take away all she had. She imagined them dying; a gun, a knife, a car, an illness. She really didn't care how. Sometimes she imagined hire someone, other times she'd imagine herself. She hated herself for those thoughts and yet... they felt so right.

That's the thing about loneliness, once you've escaped it; you'd do anything to stay away from it. And she had been lonely for so long.

Please don't go. Please don't leave me alone. The cold was growing inside her. He would leave her eventually. She didn't deserve him.

"Holy water...can't help you now..."

Her phone pulled her away from the cold for a precious small moment; a precious small moment to catch herself in the mirror. The girl before her was small, and weak; her face red and wet. All alone in the white space of the bathroom. All alone in her head. And, once he leaves, all alone in the world. Once that person tells him.

It doesn't have to be that way. An almost hopeful voice told her. No...hopeful wasn't the word.

If they went away...

She found herself pulling herself along the floor to the mirror, gazing into her own eyes. Why won't you just go away? Why won't you let me be happy?

The tears started again as she feebly hit the mirror. They wouldn't go away – she couldn't make them. The cold tightened the grip around her heart, and her skin began to prickle with goose bumps.

If I was stronger... If I was better... If I was perfect... The thoughts were the same as always. She had never been good enough. She wasn't good enough before. She's not good enough now. She would never be the perfect girl everyone wanted her to be. She would never be the perfect girl she wanted to be.

But you can be better. A thought. A thought that wasn't hers. Eyes in the mirror that weren't hers.

Don't you want to be better? Don't you want to keep what is yours?

In that moment her sobbing stopped as fingers interlocked with hers. Her bones had begun to ache from the cold, but it didn't matter.

"Seven devils all around me...seven devils in my house..."

The phone skittled along the cold bathroom floor. The cold still lingered in the air.

The mirror stood, and she was gone. If someone were there, they would have felt the temperature plummet. The glass began to crack.

But it wouldn't bring her back

That's the thing about loneliness, once you've escaped it; you'd do anything to stay away from it.


"Lapses of Consciousness" by ZacksQuest (Algernon Forest)
QUOTE
Imagine that you came back from a trip in the woods and you stumbled across a man. The man seemed bewildered and almost terrified at his surroundings but you talk to him and he slowly seems to lighten up and he shakes your hand. Upon leaving you notice that he's got some twigs jutting out of his back but that's okay.

Mental Lapse.

You wake up in an unfamiliar room, lined with two bookshelves, various paintings, and adorned in red paint. You struggle and strain to get out of bed and the second your legs hit the floor you collapse to your knees. You blink in surprise. Why can't you stand up? Shakily you get back to your feet and hobble on over to your bathroom and stare into an unfamiliar face. You blink twice and just guess that you got really hung over and you also suppose that this must also be your house. You preheat the stove and begin preparing an omelet.

Mental Lapse.

You regain consciousness as your house burns down around you. You stand up and as you try to walk you realize you can't move your legs. You fall to your face and start crawling out, watching the toil of 10 years of hard work burn down all your worldly possessions. You're too manic to think. You look around. You haven't eaten. There's a daisy right there. It's no vegetable, you think, but it will do. You grasp for it, but you decide not to pluck it but instead pet it and make cooing sounds. You see someone who you don't know call for an ambulance while firemen who have just arrived on the scene gape at you making strange sounds to the flowers in your garden.

Mental Lapse.

It's a strain to remember how to open your eyes. After what seems like an eternity and they're finally open you see a strange man in a medical coat inspect your chest with a stethoscope. He then suddenly studies minutely your forearm and hands. He starts to pluck at one of the dozen leaves on your forearm and you grab his and throw him across the room. All you know is to get out and to drive anyone who tries to stop you away. You are finally caught and sedated by an orderly who takes you back to the hospital room.

Mental Lapse.

Strange men. Women. Nonsensical scribbles on the torn-off skin of trees. Feel your arms. Hundreds of leaves. Skin starting to harden. Thicken.

Man walks to you. You don't know him. Says his name is Jerry. You don't know Jerry. He is in your territory. You drive him out with threatening growls and screams. It does the trick, but you are sedated again.

Mental Lapse.

Vines. Grow out of hands. Bed. Machines. Rot away machines. Rot away. Doctors infected. Be one with all. Doctor looks at his fingers. Eyes widen. Lulls back into sleep.

Run out of building. Into lawn. Stand. Stay.

Mental Lapse.

You suddenly realize what you're doing. You realize that you've burned down all your worldly possessions, destroyed the bond with your long-time friend Jerry Weiss, attacked and assaulted multiple people and killed two others, and now you're about to try to go through some crazy metamorphosis into some kind of plant. You want to pull out your hair, get on your knees and just let it all sink in. But you can't move your arms. You can't move your legs. You can barely move your head and your right eye is welded shut under what seems to be bark. You want to scream for help. You bl-

Mental Lapse.

All dark. All one with all. All with one. Feel power of the others. Grow and infect. Grow and infect. Cycle created.

Mental Lapse.

Breathe.

Mental Lapse.

Breathe.

Mental Lapse.

Brea-


Faces, Strange and Secret: An Anthology of Stories from da Fears Mythos: on sale from Amazon, Kindle, and Smashwords

My Finished Stories.

My Ongoing Stories:
Channel Fear (informational, educational, cynical)
The Supernatural Anaesthetist (seeing where science takes us)
Once There Was (the king is the kingdom)
An Old Man's Winter Night (at the winter of the world)
Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed (working for the man)
The Secret History of the World (unstuck in time)
Notes from the Underground (a place to stay)
Phantasmagorical (a bedtime story)
Paranoia: A Manifesto (wrecking the wall)
The Day The Music Died (running from sound and sorrow)
Abraham's Men (knights, ghosts, and shadows)
Pest Control (pulling the wings off of flies)
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ZacksQuest
 Posted: Jun 15 2013, 08:03 AM
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The Dark Lord of Neophobism


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Again, I submit the Intrusion (Nobody Helps Me) and Smiling Man (Flash Me The Winning Smile) creepypastas I had in the Submit a Creepypasta thread up for this.

Also, I have some idea for a House of Fortune creepypasta, but I'm going to wait until I have something that I can work with.

EDIT: And Constant Wanderer and Weeping Willow are *technically* Fear Candidates, but I'm putting that up tentatively because well... one has its own Mythos to be in and the other has only been used once.

EDIT #2: Also, I loved the irony of Daemonette's first creepypasta. "They sent him to find himself. He did. And he did. And he did." Same goes for the subtle realization at the very end of the second creepypasta.


In-Production Blogs

Back to the Avenue (Hiatus)
A Personal Inferno (Hiatus)
Salt Upon the Wounds (Hiatus)
Sound Mind (Collaboration w/ Acelegin) (Ongoing)
Hello Darkness, My Old Friend
(Ongoing)
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Oblivion
 Posted: Jun 15 2013, 10:18 PM
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The Morning Star


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I just have one question: is it a-okay to write about the Fear I'm developing (The Hollows)? It's based on trypophobia.

Additionally, they don't have to be in story form, per se? Like I could get away with writing journal entries or text messages or something.


𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇.
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The Nameless One
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 01:42 AM
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Corrupted


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I'd like to offer my recent pasta, Bringer of Life.

I'm also interested in writing a story with multiple Fears interacting.


In Girum Imus Nocte et Consumimur Igni

He Has Made Me Wise

Untitled Novel

Miscellaneous:
"Comfort and Joy"
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Daemonette
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 02:35 AM
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Most everyone's mad here.


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I'm still working on fixing "Perfect".

And thanks for the compliments on the other 2 :)

I've got a Grotesque one in the works and a Wooden Girl one - will submit when I have better internet.


Madness isn't a state of mind.
The city devours the land, the people devour the city
Madness is a place.
Mists of dreams drip along the nascent echo and love no more
Let's go there.
All this has happened before, and will happen again
Shall we?
End of line
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Daemonette
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 02:39 AM
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Most everyone's mad here.


Group: Members
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Also, can we submit art here?


Madness isn't a state of mind.
The city devours the land, the people devour the city
Madness is a place.
Mists of dreams drip along the nascent echo and love no more
Let's go there.
All this has happened before, and will happen again
Shall we?
End of line
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NⓍFⓍurthWall
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 02:47 AM
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The Wiki-Keeper


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I'm going to try and write something for this, but I was wondering if my recent Glitch pasta would be good enough for the second anthology. Cause I would submit it if that were the case.


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(Evolve or Die logo by Pandora)
Collab Blogs:
Search In The Tale (co-written with Pandora)
Individual blogs:
Game Time (took over this blog from ZacksQuest)
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DarkShadows
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 03:32 AM
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2spooky Since 1991. OuO


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I submitted the Slenderman short story "Anna" in the Creepypasta thread, go ahead and throw it in here. I have other stories with Slendy too if anyone's interested, unless you're not using Outer Fears. Which would make me sad, but... okay. *sniffles and hangs head and hides in corner* It's okay Slendy, I'm not an original Fear, either... :c

Weeping Willow, being my creation, *can* be used as a Fear candidate if you *really* want to. She *does* have her own Mythos, but can fit here if someone really wishes to use her. :3 It would make me feel good if you did use her, but other than that...


You're not out of the woods yet... and you never truly will be.

My Youtube ~ My ArtGrounds ~ My FictionPress ~ My Slendervlog ~ My (Personal) Blog

Blogs:
In The Dark Shadows ~ Between the Party Lines ~ Open Season ~ Shelly Loves Succulents ~ Night Class (STCZ) ~ Breaking The Waves (STCZ) ~ Graham, Positive ~ Twelve Days

Short Stories:
Project Him, a Slenderman vignette collection. ~ The Sycamore Project, decrypted tales of the Tall One. ~ The City claims another within its Drywall and Wiring ~ Got a MachineHead, it's better than the rest.
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Shayde
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 05:00 AM
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The Defiant


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Here's one I wrote for EAT. It may need some brushing up.

QUOTE

The Cult of the Obscure Fish

“Hey there folks, I’m Jimmy Fish, president of Fish Industries and I’m here today to talk to you all about a very special product.”

The television flickers. Shadows dance across the walls.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking, “Jimmy it’s getting late, can we just cut the crap, get to the drinking, and get this night over with”. Don’t worry, I know that feeling. We’ve all been there before. But I know you’ll chew on those words once you see what I’ve got for you.”

A light hum and crackle splits the air. The voice echoes around the room.

“Now friends, you and me, we have similar tastes. We prefer the finer things in life; the best food, cars and sex that money can buy. But after a while, it all changes. We’re only mortal after all. Our teeth fall out, our bones grow brittle and as for downstairs, well, that can be particularly nasty. Yet what if I said that those things could become problems of the past?”

Movement. A brief shuffling. Vials on the floor clatter against each other.

“What if I told you, ladies and gentlemen, that these would never be problems for you again? What if I told you that you would never grow old? What if you could remain in peak physical and mental condition? What if you could become perfect?”

Synchronous smiles. Eyes grow wide, fixed on the television. This all seems so familiar.

“Well my friends, this is all possible. Never grow old, lame or sick again. I know that some of you are probably thinking this is bullshit, and that I’m just another snarky snake oil salesman who's come to steal your hard earned cash. You’d be right. I admit that I do want all your hard earned cash by selling you a miracle that’s too good to be true. Except, it is true.”

Gaping maws begin to open and close in time. Whilst watching, they remember. It makes them hungry.

“I present to you, my good people, the ‘Obscure Fish’. Never grow old, never get sick, and never say never again. In this vial I hold the key to eternity and tomorrow. Just stop and think about that for a moment. Eternity and tomorrow.”

Claw like hands clutch and squeeze. Fingers like twisted spines crack.

“I know, I know, you’re probably thinking “Jimmy, you are full of
bullshit. How is it even possible?” Well, I can tell you. It contains a special formula that the boys in the lab like to call ‘Ichor’. There’s no taste, no additives, and everything to gain. A few drops a day will keep the reaper away.”

They know the taste. It tastes like nothing. Yet it is oh-so-sweet. Just like eternity and tomorrow.

“Think about it people. It’s the gift of life itself. I mean, isn’t that just amazing? It can be all yours, eternity and tomorrow in a single drop of liquid. If that isn’t the pinnacle of human evolution, I don’t know what is.”

Evolution. Eternity. Life everlasting. They watch and know that they are all these things and more.

“The Obscure Fish will swim through you, making you perfect. Just as you should be, perfection supreme. I mean look at me, eighty years young and still going strong. I look like a man half my age, all because of this lovely liquid life I offer you.”

One screeches. The others follow, drowning out the noise of the television. It is primal, drawn from the parts of time that have long since been lost. They, with their twisted spines and gaping maws, are prisoners of the Fish. It swims through their veins and makes them perfect. Eternity and tomorrow. A perfect life for perfect people. The Obscure Fish lives within and gives them forever.


Blogs
The Heretic Cycle (TTYNK / NTTTE - ??? / ??? [WRR-85])
The Liesmith's Folly (TRR / TTYSS / NO / ???)
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alliterator
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 06:01 AM
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The Jerkface Man
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QUOTE
I just have one question: is it a-okay to write about the Fear I'm developing (The Hollows)? It's based on trypophobia.

I'm going with just the ones we have established now on the Wiki. Anything new I think we need to see blogs/creepypasta from before deciding anything.

QUOTE
Additionally, they don't have to be in story form, per se? Like I could get away with writing journal entries or text messages or something.

Anything is okay - in the last anthology, we had a bunch of stories that were in the form of letters or diary entries.

QUOTE
Also, can we submit art here?

Yes, yes you can.

QUOTE
I submitted the Slenderman short story "Anna" in the Creepypasta thread, go ahead and throw it in here. I have other stories with Slendy too if anyone's interested, unless you're not using Outer Fears. Which would make me sad, but... okay. *sniffles and hangs head and hides in corner* It's okay Slendy, I'm not an original Fear, either... :c

We're not actually using Slendy or the Rake either. Both were not created by us and they have murky copyrightedness (is that right?), so we decided not to use them.

QUOTE
Weeping Willow, being my creation, *can* be used as a Fear candidate if you *really* want to. She *does* have her own Mythos, but can fit here if someone really wishes to use her. :3 It would make me feel good if you did use her, but other than that...

The thing is, though, is that the Weeping Willow is so intrinsically tied to the Slender Man, I don't think we can use one without showing the other. Plus, the Willow isn't technically a Fear or Fear Candidate.


Faces, Strange and Secret: An Anthology of Stories from da Fears Mythos: on sale from Amazon, Kindle, and Smashwords

My Finished Stories.

My Ongoing Stories:
Channel Fear (informational, educational, cynical)
The Supernatural Anaesthetist (seeing where science takes us)
Once There Was (the king is the kingdom)
An Old Man's Winter Night (at the winter of the world)
Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed (working for the man)
The Secret History of the World (unstuck in time)
Notes from the Underground (a place to stay)
Phantasmagorical (a bedtime story)
Paranoia: A Manifesto (wrecking the wall)
The Day The Music Died (running from sound and sorrow)
Abraham's Men (knights, ghosts, and shadows)
Pest Control (pulling the wings off of flies)
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Daemonette
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 11:51 AM
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Most everyone's mad here.


Group: Members
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Joined: 31-October 11









One on the Wooden Girl - feedback would be greatly appreciated

[indent] means... well, supposed to be indented

QUOTE
"Like Glass"

[indent] Humans are so fragile and  many things hurt:
Cuts and bruises, and words, cruel and crass.
Bruises, and words, and tears - you hid them well,
But she always knew what you’d never tell
As your eyes shone like glass.

[indent] Your mother promised to always be there,
And gave you something from her past:
A little wood doll of a rustic style
Her old face painted with a content smile
And her eyes shone like glass.

[indent] Broken and bent and completely at home
In the childish strength of your grasp;
One day you did tire and set her aside,
And alone in the dark she never cried
Though her eyes shone like glass.

[indent] Years pass, safety turns to suffocation;
You were not content with the past.
Luggage and taxis pass and you are gone,
And your mother sits in your room alone
While her eyes shone like glass.

[indent] A little girl found you, so far from home
And then took your hand in her grasp.
You would have seen it, if you’d just looked:
That painted content smile, those arms of wood,
And eyes that shine like glass.

[indent] Broken and bent and so utterly lost
And trapped by the sound of her laugh;
One day she will tire and set you aside,
And alone in the dark you’ll never cry
Though your eyes shine like glass.



Madness isn't a state of mind.
The city devours the land, the people devour the city
Madness is a place.
Mists of dreams drip along the nascent echo and love no more
Let's go there.
All this has happened before, and will happen again
Shall we?
End of line
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Manic Muse
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 12:36 PM
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The Pseudo Scientist


Group: Members
Posts: 207
Member No.: 247
Joined: 6-December 12









I wrote a short Dying man one, have it:

He who dies Among us

There is a man I used to see time to time, a man always moaning as if he was dying from some terrible pain. I used to not give him a second glance but I had never seen his face before….. his face, I actually saw it by accident I think, or maybe now I think about it that might not have been the case. The man I’m referring to is homeless and begs about half a mile from where I work and I sometimes put change in the cup he has in front of him, though he never looked up or said thanks, he just whimpered or grunted in pain as if my look burned him. The day I saw his face I was walking home from work passing him as I usually do and put some money in his cup, this time however I saw his face through a gap in his arm and his hat. The face was horrible, grotesque, mangled and oozing like it was made of candle wax it. It looked at me and saw it had a missing eye, it smiled at me, it didn’t look like one though, it looked… empty like he wasn’t smiling at all I could see it in his eye, he wasn’t smiling.

This sent me running home, I didn’t care about catching a bus, or a train I just wanted to be away from the ‘Thing!’ I saw, I ran until I collapsed from exhaustion lying on the ground my stomach sick, everything numb and shaking, more from fear than any real sense of exhaustion. So I laid there in the grass staring at the clouds as the sun went down feeling the fear and pain subsiding, my breath caught in my chest. I heard it again….. that grunting and wheezing and groaning. He had followed me. All that way I ran, this man missing his face followed me. I heard the footsteps behind me lumbering as if he had an injured leg, I smelt his foul breath and breathed something in my ear “You alright? You look like death” he chuckled; I turned to face the disgusting thing but he was gone. This was taken as my cue to leave, so that’s what I did I took the next bus home and sat, and waited.

It was late when my blood went cold; I woke up to hear the wheezing that familiar wheezing, it was coming from the next room; I mastered my fear and decided to face whatever was out there. I stood up and walked softly to the door each step making the wheezing and the grunting louder, my hand went to the handle I pushed it down. The entire flat exploded with this manic screaming as if he was being stripped of his skin, I ran to the window to find a way out but I was on the third floor with no way down except pass the thing outside my door. I crawled back to my bed keeping an eye the door hoping, praying it wouldn’t come in; needless to say I didn’t sleep that night.

My work was surprisingly compliant when I called in sick and just asked me to be back as soon as I was feeling better. I took the next couples of days off, I slept during the days and kept watch at night, until one night I fell asleep and nothing happened, no noises no screaming. So I happily went back to work glad for the opportunity to forget the events of the last couple of days, until half way thorough the day I went to the toilet but whilst I was there I heard the wheezing and groaning louder than ever coming from the next stall. I got so angry I got up and kicked open the stall to find no one there except a pained giggle. I survived the rest of the day then walked out ignoring invitation for pints and other activities; I just wanted to be home

I forgot my mission to avoid the homeless bloke so I walked past him and gave him a glance, I saw him looking at me, I saw now that it wasn’t his mouth smiling only his teeth, his one eye gleaming at me half in pain half in amusement, seeing another suffer. I sped up and walked away, I was walking so fast I bumped into a person, when I looked however I saw it again that face with flesh like candle wax, grinning teeth bared at me. So I ran again, seeing his face everywhere, his glee increasing as my dismay became greater. That is I ran until I knew there was no point he was everywhere, I sat down in front of a shop and waited. In the silence that surrounded me, the sound of wheezing footsteps appeared, lumbering along to be certain I heard him. In my resigned state I merely told him to take me, I couldn’t and wouldn’t run; again he just chuckled in his pained fading way. “I don’t need to take you my friend, you all belong to me anyway”, confused by his response I turned to ask him face to hideous face, at which point I caught my face in the shop window, I saw in there the same gleeful face in the glass, and I watched it’s mouth open as I screamed.


Fear blogs:
Dreaming Truths (Completed)
Life by Clockwork (Completed)
Timor Biblotheca
My Slacking off life blog ( I know thrilling, lol):
Blogpasta:
An unfortunate few
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Daemonette
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 05:58 PM
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Most everyone's mad here.


Group: Members
Posts: 261
Member No.: 31
Joined: 31-October 11









Final Version of "Perfect" - Cold Boy and Mother of Snakes

QUOTE
“Perfect”

Click.

The bathroom lock was usually a reassuring sound to her, but she was too far in her own head to hear it.

She had just been to the movies with her boyfriend, their hands interlocked and her head on his shoulder, when it happened. He told her he didn’t deserve her, that she was too wonderful for him. She had smiled and told him he was wrong as she had always done. She never said what she was really thinking: that she was the one who didn’t deserve him. He didn’t know what she had done.

I don’t deserve you. You don’t know what I've done. Her eyes made her way across the bathroom to the large mirror. She didn’t even look that pretty, at least, not as pretty as his last girlfriend. The thought of the other girl stung her, like a wasp, and tears started to form in her eyes.

She had never done much. She didn’t drink, or smoke. She’s never even had sex. She always tried to be a good girl. She always tried to be perfect.

But she wasn’t. She had made mistakes. She couldn’t even bring herself to tell him. She couldn’t forgive herself for what she did, so how could he?

I don’t deserve you. You don’t know what I’ve done. Her knees weakened and she sunk to the floor. The tiles were so cold.

Her mother didn’t think she deserved this relationship – that she “tricked” him into it. Maybe she did. Maybe she manipulated him into liking her. After all, every other friend had left her, why would he stay? There was no reason he would have fallen for her normally. She had to have tricked him. Her mother had always told her that she was manipulative.

I don’t deserve you. You don’t know what I’ve done. Sobs racked her small frame, so much so she couldn’t breathe. A cold place was starting to grow in her heart, like it did every time she found herself here. This room was her small sanctuary, where she could cry and hate without anyone else knowing. With no witness but the girl in the mirror who mimicked her every move. Who mocked her ever move.

She often wondered what would happen if he found out. If those friends of hers told him about that cigarette she had. If he found out she what she’d sometimes do alone in her room. If that man she had typed those things to online somehow found him.
If someone told him, how completely and utterly unworthy she was…

He already had to tolerate so much from her – she wasn’t as fit as him, she liked snakes and he didn’t, she didn’t help out enough around the house, she only had an B+ average; so many small things but if so many other people didn’t like those things about, why would he?

Her mind raced to what might happen then – what would happen then. He would leave her, she knew he would. He would leave and she would be alone again.

I love you. Please don’t go. She hugged herself tighter, as though she hoped to contain the cold – to stop it from spreading. If she hurt this much just thinking about him leaving, how much would it hurt if he actually did?

It’s not “if”, it’s “when”…

She wasn’t a good person; that much was evident from how she felt about these people, these people who could take away all she had. She imagined them dying; a gun, a knife, a car, an illness. She really didn’t care how. Sometimes she imagined hiring someone, other times she’d imagine herself. She hated herself for those thoughts and yet... they felt so right.

That’s the thing about loneliness, once you’ve escaped it; you’d do anything to stay away from it. And she had been lonely for so long.

Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me alone. The cold was growing inside her. He would leave her eventually. She didn’t deserve him.

She looked again to the girl in the mirror. The girl before her was small, and weak; her face red and wet. All alone in the white space of the bathroom. All alone in her head. And, once he leaves, all alone in the world. Once one of those people tell him.

Charlie Chapman had once said that the mirror was his best friend, that when he cried it never laughed at him. She once thought that, but as the time passed even that girl in the mirror seemed to laugh at her. That even when crying she was laughing at her. That she would always be truly alone.

It doesn’t have to be that way. An almost hopeful voice told her. No... hopeful wasn’t the word.

If they went away...

She found herself pulling herself along the floor to the mirror, gazing into her own eyes. Why won’t you just go away? Why won’t you let me be happy?

The tears started again as she feebly hit the mirror. They wouldn’t go away – she couldn’t make them. She never could. She couldn’t stop the bullying in primary school or in high school. She couldn’t get her Mum to stop yelling at her whenever she was mad at anything. She couldn’t do anything. The cold tightened the grip around her heart, and her skin began to prickle with goose bumps.

If I was stronger... If I was better... If I was perfect... The thoughts were the same as always. She had never been good enough. She wasn’t good enough before. She’s not good enough now. She would never be the perfect girl everyone wanted her to be. She would never be the perfect girl she wanted to be.

But you can be better. A thought. A thought that wasn’t hers. Eyes in the mirror that weren’t hers.

Don’t you want to be better? Don’t you want to keep what is yours?

In that moment her world and sobbing stopped. Mine.

The eyes met eyes, and fingers interlocked with hers. Her bones had begun to ache from the cold, but it didn’t matter.

The mirror stood, and she was gone. If someone were there, they would have felt the temperature plummet. The glass began to crack.

But it wouldn’t bring her back.

That’s the thing about loneliness, once you’ve escaped it; you’d do anything to stay away from it.


Madness isn't a state of mind.
The city devours the land, the people devour the city
Madness is a place.
Mists of dreams drip along the nascent echo and love no more
Let's go there.
All this has happened before, and will happen again
Shall we?
End of line
PM
Staccato
 Posted: Jun 16 2013, 08:58 PM
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Fighter


Group: Members
Posts: 248
Member No.: 201
Joined: 21-September 12









QUOTE (alliterator @ Jun 15 2013, 08:23 AM)

Section Two: Flashes of New Fears
Small stories of all Fears and Fear Candidates not included in the above section: the Algernon Forest, the Brute, the Burning Bride, the Deep, the Glitch, the House of Fortune, the Ivory Woman, the King in the Mountain, the Man in Gray, Nobody, the Red Cap, the Unbounded Face, the Vision, the Woman in the Wind.

Awww, but what about the poor Bleeding Tree? :(


My Deviantart account

Fear Mythos stories:

Four Roses-verse
- Convention of the 24: completed [25/25]
- Journey Through a Burning Brain: in progress [13/16]
- Rising Runner Missed by Endless Sender
- The Big Sleep in Search of Hades
- ???

Other Fear stories
- Movements of a Visionary: completed
- You Can't Fall From Grace Without at Least Spraining an Ankle: completed
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