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 Thoughts, Sanguine and Sick: The Second Anthology, Time to start again...
Shayde
 Posted: Jun 20 2013, 02:14 PM
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The Defiant


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I wrote this one for The Brute. Considering it's a first draft, it still needs a little work, but I thought I'd share for comments/criticism.

QUOTE

War

The rain dredges the earth, turning it to slush. The night is harsh in the trench. Miles long, yet meters wide, it cramps in its occupants like ants. They’ve been here a while now. Some would say too long. It hasn’t been the first night they’ve had like this, soaked through and half awake, never sleeping through fear of an attack. Nor, for sure, would it be the last night like this. The lords at home kept them fighting, pushing them onward. Though some of them, in the cold and dark, wonder what it is they’re fighting for. Was it for king and country? Was it for glory? Half the men here are little more than boys, no more than fourteen years of age. They are children who snuck away to fight in a war, for glory, honour, king and country. It’s only when they’re down in the mud, coughing and wheezing with limbs blackened by frost that they realise what they’ve entered. There is nothing honourable in this war. They fight for old men in ivory towers, who are too afraid to die with their empires.

One of these young men peaks out above the trench. He strains to see through the darkness and fog that covers the dead land. He wishes he were home. He wishes for a lot of things. He wishes he could go back to the farm, and living in the outback of New South Wales. Sometimes he wishes for a slice of homemade pie, or practically any food that isn’t tinned or stale. Other times it’s to see his wife Catharine again, and to drown in her smile. Most of the time he just wants the war to reach its end once and for all. The young man has seen too many friends and comrades meet their end out here. Whether by guns and fire, or sickness and gas, they all died in pain and fear a thousand miles from home.

The young man snaps to from his wandering thoughts. He sees a light through the fog. Raising binoculars to his face, he scans the No-Mans-Land in the lights direction. It’s hard to tell exactly what it is through the fog and sleet. He wonders if it is the enemy, yet quickly dismisses that thought. If the enemy were idiots the war would have long since been over. The light comes closer toward him, slowly taking form. It looked like a man. In fact, he was sure it was a man. They looked old and ragged, bound in chains with a beard full of matches. The figure turned to look at him through the fog. It was then he saw it for what it truly was. He saw its true face. The burning man lit his soul on fire. It looked like no man or beast he had ever seen, a phantom bound in chains with a face hooded and macabre. It was a writhing mass of leather and horns, draped in a scarlet mist. It was burning brighter than the sun itself, growing brighter and hotter as he dropped the binoculars into the slush. He began to understand. It was the horseman come to bring the end of days. It had many names. Names his Ma told him when he was a young boy. Names like the ‘Burning Man’ and ‘The Brute’. It was the ‘Smoke in Your Eyes’ and it was ‘Ferratus’, bound in chains. It was War incarnate that strode the field, scorching the slush beneath its feet in the violent flames of destruction. It was free at last, if but for a moment, to taste the spoils. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last it would appear. In that violent fire, down in the mud and blood and corpses, the chains loosened.

He heard the machine guns firing first. The ‘RAAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT’ as their spent casings dropped to the ground. Then the yelling began some way down the trench. Yelling turned into screaming. Guns went off.  Down the line, men were climbing up over the trench, yelling and roaring. He heard sounds from across the divide. More screams, some from the enemy. More shots went off, as if to make sure that the silence of the night was properly broken. He didn’t even notice the gas at first. It spread down the trench, a wave of thick red smoke. The noises grew louder, filling his head. He could smell the smoke now. He could smell the blood in the air. He knew what to do. After all, he had seen a horseman that night, bound in chains. In a swift motion, he grabbed his rifle and threw himself into the fog, screaming for the grace of war everlasting.

Morning rose and a contingent of men had finally reached the trenches. They saw the slaughter. Some threw up at the sight of it. War was never easy to stomach. Yet as they dragged away the corpses and took up their new positions, none of them questioned why the earth, which should have been damp and sodden from the rain, was instead scorched and cracked, as if a fire had spread across the landscape. They were too busy fighting the war to care.


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alliterator
 Posted: Jun 20 2013, 03:27 PM
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The Jerkface Man
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Excellent.


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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NⓍFⓍurthWall
 Posted: Jun 20 2013, 10:04 PM
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The Wiki-Keeper


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You know that Man in Gray idea I mentioned in the shout-box? Well I finally managed to write it.

QUOTE
The White Rabbit

While exploring my house as a child I found a small door in my room that lead to a crawlspace in the attic. My parents were far too big to fit in it and it was never locked, so I would constantly use it to hide thing I didn't want people to see, like bad report cards. One night during a thunderstorm, I saw a man enter our house through the backdoor. The wind was so loud and windy that no one else noticed him.

When I entered the attic I asked him who he was, he merely stated: "I have no name."

I was really confused by this so he proceeded to explain that he had no parents and as such he had no one to give him a proper name. This confused me even more, since everyone has parents, but I quickly ignored this and asked him what I should call him. The man started searching the room until he found a copy of Alice in Wonderland and pointed at the cover. "Call me the White Rabbit." He told me.

Despite all of my parents warnings to never talk to strangers, I couldn't help talking to this mysterious man. I was extremely shy back then so I was desperate for a friend and the White Rabbit quickly filled that role. The one thing I remember most about the White Rabbit was his pocket watch. He would often take it after we were done playing in order to check the time and he would ignore everything that was happening around him while he did it.

I think he choose the nickname of the White Rabbit as a reference to his pocket watch, since the White Rabbit also carried one wherever he went, but he never confirmed this. Actually... The one thing I remember more than that was the fact that he would never arrive unless there was a storm. He told me that it was because his job made it impossible for him to visit at any other time. It was really weird opinion but I didn't bother questioning it. In fact I didn't bother questioning many of the strange things about the White Rabbit, out of fear of him abandoning me.

Then one night, in the middles of summer vacation while we were playing a board game. he asked me a very personal question.

"Who do you love the most in your family? Who would you choose to keep the longest if you had to decide who you would keep."

I told him that I loved everyone in my family equally and he eventually left when the storm outside started to weaken. After that the storms continued to get more and more violent when he visited me. On the night of the most violent storm he told me that this would be the last time he would see me in my attic.

I pleaded for him to stay but it was pointless, he had made up his mind and he left shortly after. I remember running outside in a desperate attempt to follow him but it was too late. As I returned home I remembered the White Rabbit's question: "Who do you love the most in your family? Who would you choose to keep the longest if you had to decide who you would keep."

The White Rabbit still visits me from time to time in order to see how I'm doing but we never talk anymore. Most of the time I just see him in a crowd, looking at his pocket watch. My parents are both gone now and I have my own my family now. My wife's name is Samantha and we have two beautiful children named Richard and Daisy.

And as much as it pain me to say it, I think I finally have a proper answer for the White Rabbit.


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alliterator
 Posted: Jun 21 2013, 05:50 AM
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The Jerkface Man
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Interesting. I kept expecting something bad to happen, but it didn't. Even the end of ambiguous. Does he mean himself?


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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proxiehunter
 Posted: Jun 21 2013, 06:36 AM
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QUOTE
While exploring my house as a child I found a small door in my room that lead to a crawlspace in the attic. My parents were far too big to fit in it and it was never locked, so I would constantly use it to hide things I didn't want people to see, like bad report cards. One night during a thunderstorm, I saw a man enter our house through the backdoor. The wind was so loud and windy that no one else noticed him.


Small typo pointed out in blue, the underlined phrase needs some work. Also my grammar check is telling me crawl space is two words but it seems to be a newish feature and may be a little buggy.


If I'm taking the correct interpretation of events I think the creep factor would be intensified by making my interpretation more explicitly correct. Without the explicitness I'm not sure I'm right and if I am I think some readers may miss the conclusion I came to entirely.

I was expecting that because he did not pick one family member to keep that they all died during the storm the last night he saw the Man in Grey in the attic (hence the later reference to both his parents being dead). Our narrator I assume survived because he followed the Man in Grey out the door and thus was not inside the house when disaster struck. I also assume that after his marriage and kids he's been asked the question again.

If my interpretation is correct you might want to add something about him returning to the wreckage of his house or something similar.

QUOTE (alliterator @ Jun 21 2013, 12:50 AM)
Interesting. I kept expecting something bad to happen, but it didn't. Even the end of ambiguous. Does he mean himself?


If my interpretation of the stories events is correct I don't think it matters which one, the point is he's being forced to chose which of the three live and which two die. If he doesn't choose all three die.
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alliterator
 Posted: Jun 21 2013, 07:17 AM
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The Jerkface Man
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QUOTE
If my interpretation of the stories events is correct I don't think it matters which one, the point is he's being forced to chose which of the three live and which two die. If he doesn't choose all three die.

Ooh, yeah, I do think it would be creepier if this was pointed out.


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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NⓍFⓍurthWall
 Posted: Jun 21 2013, 11:05 AM
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The Wiki-Keeper


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Originally I was going to have the parents be crushed by a tree but I kind of took it out because I wanted it to be implied that something bad happened. But I could easily change that once I get back from school.

Also, Proxiehuntet's interpretation is completely correct. If he didn't make a proper decesion, everyone in his family would die.


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NⓍFⓍurthWall
 Posted: Jun 21 2013, 03:44 PM
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The Wiki-Keeper


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Okay, here's the second version

QUOTE
The White Rabbit

While exploring my house as a child I found a small door in my room that lead to a crawl space in the attic. My parents were far too big to fit in it and it was never locked, so I would constantly use it to hide things I didn't want people to see, like bad report cards. One night during a thunderstorm, I saw a man enter our house through the backdoor. The wind was so loud that no one else noticed him.

When I entered the attic I asked him who he was, he merely stated: "I have no name."

I was really confused by this so he proceeded to explain that he had no parents and as such he had no one to give him a proper name. This confused me even more, since everyone has parents, but I quickly ignored this and asked him what I should call him. The man started searching the room until he found a copy of Alice in Wonderland and pointed at the cover. "Call me the White Rabbit." He told me.

Despite all of my parents warnings to never talk to strangers, I couldn't help talking to this mysterious man. I was extremely shy back then so I was desperate for a friend and the White Rabbit quickly filled that role. The one thing I remember most about the White Rabbit was his pocket watch. He would often take it after we were done playing in order to check the time and he would ignore everything that was happening around him while he did it.

I think he choose the nickname of the White Rabbit as a reference to his pocket watch, since the White Rabbit also carried one wherever he went, but he never confirmed this. Actually... The one thing I remember more than that was the fact that he would never arrive unless there was a storm. He told me that it was because his job made it impossible for him to visit at any other time. It was really weird opinion but I didn't bother questioning it. In fact I didn't bother questioning many of the strange things about the White Rabbit, out of fear of him abandoning me.

Then one night, in the middles of summer vacation while we were playing a board game. he asked me a very personal question.

"Who do you love the most in your family? Who would you choose to keep the longest if you had to decide who you would keep."

I told him that I loved everyone in my family equally and he eventually left when the storm outside started to weaken. After that the storms continued to get more and more violent when he visited me. On the night of the most violent storm he told me that this would be the last time he would see me in my attic.

I pleaded for him to stay but it was pointless, he had made up his mind and he left shortly after. I remember running outside in a desperate attempt to follow him but it was too late. As I returned home I remembered the White Rabbit's question: "Who do you love the most in your family? Who would you choose to keep the longest if you had to decide who you would keep."

The police said that it was a miracle that I was out of my house. According to them the foundation of my family's house had become so weak from the constant storms and old age that it was shocking that it didn't collapse sooner. In a single night the house I lived in for seven years was destroyed and my parents were crushed to death.

After that I moved from foster home to foster home. My second mother died in a fire and my second father commited suicde from grief. My third family were killed in a car crash caused by texting and driving. Yet no matter how many diasters happened, I always survived.

Sometimes the White Rabbit visits me from time to time but we never talk anymore. He merely watches me as I live life to the best of my ability, despite knowing what will happen once again. After all these years, he's still waiting for me to decide who I love the most.

It's been years since I first met him and now I have my own family. I have a wonderful wife who's name is Samantha and we have two beautiful children named Richard and Daisy. I love each and every one of them so much... And as much as it pain me to say it, I think I finally have a proper answer for the White Rabbit.


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proxiehunter
 Posted: Jun 21 2013, 06:23 PM
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QUOTE (NⓍFⓍurthWall @ Jun 21 2013, 10:44 AM)
Okay, here's the second version



Much improved. I spotted two typos.

QUOTE
While exploring my house as a child I found a small door in my room that lead to a crawl space in the attic. My parents were far too big to fit in it and it was never locked, so I would constantly use it to hide thing I didn't want people to see, like bad report cards.


Still had "thing" instead of "things".

QUOTE
Sometimes the White Rabbit visits me from time to time but we never talk anymore. He merely watches me as I live life ti the best of my ability


Highlighted word should obviously be "to".
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NⓍFⓍurthWall
 Posted: Jun 21 2013, 06:30 PM
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The Wiki-Keeper


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Thanks, I just fixed those typos.


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alliterator
 Posted: Jun 22 2013, 07:51 AM
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The Jerkface Man
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Here's something I wrote for the Choir (special bonus points for whoever gets the pun in the title).


"Mensana En Corpore Sano"
QUOTE

You can't find me. You can't catch me. You don't even know where to start looking. That's your whole problem: you are looking. You aren't listening.

I am walking across the country on the sounds of children laughing, of adults gossiping, of parents worrying, of babies crying and people screaming and everything in between. I am walking on waves.

I was like you once. I lived a normal life. I had a normal job. I woke up in the morning and I went to my normal job and I came home and I did everything I was supposed to do. I ate and I slept and I shit. I was like you all are, a biological machine, a thing made of flesh and water and electrical impulses.

And then they came to me. The Lords of Shouting, the Masters of Howling. They had no bodies, no need for food or sleep. Without bodies, they lived as vibrations in the air, a sound unlike anything I had heard before.

They offered to make me like them: to strip away the meat, to make my soul sing. How could I refuse them? How could I turn down their generous offer?

I can't tell you that it didn't hurt. Of course it hurt. It was like dying. My skin was stripped away, then my muscle, then every layer until I was only bones. And then my bones turned to dust and I was left with nothing. Nothing except myself.

I was finally free and for the first time, I could see what I had been missing. I had never known true freedom. I had always been encumbered by walls and floors and distance. To see something, I would need to open my eyes, to turn and hope my vision wasn't hindered (not to mention the fact that I wore glasses).

I have no eyes now, but I see much farther and much better. I can move at the speed of sound. I can hop and skip across cities and towns. I can see what people say. And if I feel in the mood, I can wrap myself around them and give them a show.

You've seen my work. The first few times, I hadn't meant to do it. It was involuntary – one moment they were alive and so delighted to hear my symphony, the next they were on the floor, blood pouring from their ears. Too much of a good thing.

And then I decided that I liked it. If people could not live like this – and the Lords of Shouting are very picky in choosing who to change – then I could at least show them what they were missing. Even if doing that makes them hemorrhage, even if they die, at least their last moments shall be filled with sound and fury.

And that's why you can't catch me. Because I am sound and fury and I am nothing. I was never there at all.


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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TheSomnambulist
 Posted: Jun 24 2013, 02:06 AM
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QUOTE
Luck and Skill

Max (Min/Max) Mikael, was a statistical anomaly. He had the strangest luck. He wasn't unusually lucky or unusually unlucky. His luck ran in a repetitive pattern. Something like good luck, bad luck, bad luck, good luck or whatever I don't know the actual order. Regardless it made him a rich man. As long as he kept track of the pattern he always knew when to risk it and when to play it safe. The guy brought entire casino's to their knees with a few good bets on the roulette wheel or craps table. He always kept track and he'd always leave whenever the pattern reset. It's easier to keep track that way he'd tell anyone who asked. If this was something like counting cards he'd probably be banned from every casino in the world but for some reason this skill of his instead had casino's opening doors for him. No one believed his story and they all wanted to be the place he'd lose big. They'd get famous for that.

It was actually as Max was driving back to his home from an invitational tournament that he got caught in a storm. Sudden storm out of nowhere forces his car off the road and leaves him stranded. Just the worst luck but then he came upon a small out of the way place. It was named The House of Fortune. Now there was a restaurant by that name but he'd never heard of a casino by that name. Regardless, he needed to get out of the rain so he went inside. He put his soaking coat and hat on the convenient hat rack by the door and took a look around. It was a small place but as luxurious as any other casino he'd ever been in. There were a few others inside but they paid little attention to his arrival.

As he examined the place he suddenly became aware of a couple approaching. They were a man and a woman. The man was wearing a gaudy plastic king's crown and the woman's nose was upturned like that of a pig. Their hands were clasped tightly together between them in such a way as to show off their, obviously incredibly expensive, wedding rings. They smiled at him in a way he couldn't not think of as predatory but this wasn't too uncommon for casino staff so he brushed it off. “Greetings, Mr. Mikael-” the woman began
“-We are so glad you've arrived,” the man finished. They spoke like a stereotypical movie couple finishing each others sentences perfectly though, there was a far more disturbing quality to their speech that Max couldn't quite put his finger on. He did however notice that they somehow knew his name and questioned them on it immediately. Their response was to laugh good naturedly and inform him that anyone in the casino business knew about him. He nodded at this completely reasonable answer but something was still bugging him. Everything about these two was bugging him actually but he couldn't go out into the storm and as they began offering him drinks and conversation he settled in.

After a couple of minutes he was nice and tipsy when one of the two asked him about his rumoured special luck. He smiled and offered to show them. First he went to the blackjack table. He realized he didn't have any chips but this was quickly rectified as the man handed him 5 chips. The chips were strange. They had a picture of an angel on one side and a devil on the other side. He asked them how much the chips are worth. The response was that they were worth far more than money and that these ones were on the house. This raised more red flags but they were quickly drowned out by the comforting, mind numbing taste of alcohol. He tried to register the pattern in his head. First up was luck so he bet it all. The dealer dealt him his cards and the face up was an ace. Already a good sign. He didn't bother checking the under card he figured he knew what it was. He stood. The dealer hit and by the end the dealer had a six a five and an eight. That was nineteen difficult to beat but he was lucky. He turned over his card. A ten. Blackjack he won. He pulled in ten of the weird chips. “Could be a fluke-”
“-Keep going.”
This time would be bad luck. He asked for the minimum bet. He was told there was no official minimum. As long as there was a bet on the table everything was good. So he bet 1. He was dealt a King and checking the other card a two. Twelve. He checked out the dealers hand. A five showing. He knew he'd probably lose but he might as well try. He hit and got a three. Fifteen. He'd probably bust if he hit again. The dealer hit and he saw the dealer pull in a six. He shrugged he'd expected it. Nothing ever went right on an unlucky hand. The dealer stood on a five a six and a nine. Not quite 21 but enough to beat him anyways. The next few hands went similarly. Playing to the pattern he eventually went 20 games and was up from five chips to 200. “I'm not convinced-”
“-Could be counting-”
“Maybe roulette.”

They moved to the roulette table and it was another good luck round. He bet it all on seven for the fun of it and watched it spin. As per his expectations it landed exactly. On bad luck turns he'd make outside bets betting on black, red, odd or even on good luck he'd bet on a direct number and never be wrong. He was up a thousand by the time the two pulled him away. “Still not convinced-”
“-Angle of the wheel-”
“-Could be math-”
“-Skill not luck-”
“-Dice now”

They went to a table where there was a game of under & over seven. It was a simple guessing game but he realized it was perfect as it relied almost entirely on blind luck. They really were testing him. According to the pattern it would be bad luck first so he guessed under seven. The dice came out on seven. The next roll would also be bad luck so he went over seven and it again landed on seven. He then bet it all on seven and won 5 times his bet as it landed on seven. “We are convinced. You-”
“-are amazing-”
“-Would you accept our offer-”
“-To stay the night?”
“Free of charge-”
“-Of course.”

He made a show of considering it, but he, and they, both knew he couldn't leave due to the storm and that they had him the moment the words “free of charge” were spoken. They showed him to a luxurious room. The room was fully furnished and painted with dueling motifs of cards and dice versus angels and demons. There was also a large roulette wheel painted above the bed. Upon entering the room he lay down on the bed and turned on the television. He watched some random shows for a short time before the tiredness he hadn't realized he'd been feeling overtook him.

That night he had horrible dreams. Every off thing he'd failed to notice earlier came back to him immediately. The man and woman didn't just complete each others sentences they spoke in the same voice, There'd been no one else in the casino, There had been when he first looked but the moment he had started playing the place had become empty. He woke with a start and saw himself stuck to the roulette wheel. He was emaciated and writhing on the wheel. His eyes were replaced by dice. He opened his mouth and blood began to fall from it onto the him in the bed. He screamed and then awoke again on the floor by the bed his body covered in a cold sweat.

He decided he had to get out storm or no storm. He left his room and headed for the exit. He made it to the casino floor and a chill ran through him. All the lights and sounds one expects from a Casino were gone,. The place looked abandoned and was as silent as a tomb. He ran or the front doors but the man and woman suddenly appeared in front of him. He staggered back and they spoke as one. “Where are you going Mr. Mikael. We have one last game for you.” He tried to run but they appeared in front of him again. "We have one final game for you. All or nothing,”
“I don't want your money!”
“We never said anything about money. What you're playing for is freedom,”
“I win and I get to leave here?”
“Oh no nothing as worthless as physical freedom,” A playing chip appeared in the man's hand. “You asked us what these are worth. They are worth a second of your life. You've lived your entire life at our behest and so every second of it is indebted to us. We're going to let you play for your debt. Win and it's erased instantly. You're free to keep everything you've gained and will owe us nothing. Lose and you'll pay off your debt one second at a time. Before you make your decision you should remember you're currently due for a turn of good luck according to your pattern,” Max thought about it and realized it was true and he didn't really have another choice.
“I'll play... What's the game?”
“A simple roll of the dice,” A black die with three faces of angels and three faces of demons, “Just roll it on the table. If it lands on an angel you win. If it lands on a demon you lose.”
“I can't lose the pattern is on my side,” Max said with a laugh and rolled the die. The table began to bounce the die in the air as it hit making it so the die would not come to rest.
“The pattern would be on your side if it existed...”
“What?”
“Well it may of existed once but you lost track ages ago.”
“Impossible! I've kept track of every card, every roll. I've kept track of everything!”
“You've kept track of every game but luck isn't just games. That storm that brought you here was pretty unlucky wasn't it...” The die was still rolling, “Finding this place was pretty lucky,” The die kept rolling, “Course it also led you to us which wasn't so lucky. Actually it's sometimes impossible to tell if something's lucky or not... Certainly not something you can keep track of...”
“But my lucks always gone with the pattern! I must still have it on track!”
“Oh no... I'm afraid you've just been extremely lucky that your luck always seemed to follow that pattern... But right here right now... Your luck may have run out.” the Die landed. A demon stared up at him mockingly.

He spends all his time in that casino now. Playing the games. Trying to pay off his debt one second at a time. Sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses but the debt is always growing and he'll never pay it off.


House of Fortune Creepypasta

Give me another one.


I'm not crazy I just use a different definition of sanity...

The Forum Blunt Instrument. "Because sometimes the only way to get through to someone is with a sledgehammer."

Archon of Chaos.

Leader of the Cult of Filik.

Amalgam series goes in this order
Prestidigitation>Urban Malefic>The World Through These Eyeholes>Cold and Lonely Days>Metaphysical Fiction and Dawghouse>No Gods No Masters>Unlikely World>Epilogic
>Cresting The Wave

Extra stories that tie into The Somniverse at points and are not linked in the stories.
Sing to me Songs of The darkness>The One and Only
Last Rites
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TheSomnambulist
 Posted: Jun 24 2013, 02:52 AM
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Wordweaver/Neurotic individual


Group: Conspirator (Som)
Posts: 4465
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Joined: 7-December 11









QUOTE
Walking together

I spent the rest of my life walking home one night. I go into town but I live on the outskirts. I don't drive and don't bus. I'm in town from 6 AM to 9 PM I leave immediately at 9 PM walk three hours to home Sleep from 12 AM to 3 AM then head back into town. I don't get much sleep but I don't need it. There's a nice trick you can do. Trains the body to survive on only two hours of sleep. The walk is long and arduous but I love it. I don't have any neighbours and I don't make friends at work. I tend to alienate people. Loneliness isn't so bad. It gives you more time with your thoughts. That's what I do during the long walks I think. I think about my life, my loves, my regrets. I have a lot of those last ones. I was 18 once. Well anyone over 18 was 18 once but I mean when I was 18 I was a different person. I was rambunctious, loud, arrogant... But I was loved... I lived on my own. My parents were retired and traveled the world so I lived alone. I spent every day just hanging with friends or playing games. I even had a girlfriend. Her name was Liona. Strange name for a beautiful girl. We'd met when I was 15. We'd had a class together. I think it was Math or something. Some really boring class so we'd spend a lot of it just talking to each other instead of work. I failed that class but I made a friend. She was dating someone else at the time. Some jerk named Char Lee Simon. Stupid name... Eventually she realized he was a jerk as well and dumped him. I guess you could say I scored her on the rebound but it ended up being more successful and long lasting than rebounds are supposed to be. We dated all the way through high school. We were contemplating moving in together and getting married when everything went to hell. My life was perfect you could say. I had no income though and so I decided to get a job. The only job I could get was in town. I used to get driven to work by my girl and she'd come pick me up too. Then one night she couldn't pick me up cause she had to drive her mother to the hospital and I couldn't get another ride. So I walked. I met a man as I walked the dark streets. Well not so much met as he walked behind me and talked to me the whole way.

It was pretty creepy being followed by some unseen man but a combination of physical fitness, martial arts classes and the genial way he talked to me as we walked kept me from being scared of him. Looking back though I guess that's one of my many regrets. He told me about how much his life sucked. He told me he was lonely. He told me about how the long trek to and from work each day tired him out. He told me about how he never got enough sleep. He told me about how he had a beautiful girlfriend but she broke up with him. He said he used to have lots of friends but he just didn't have the time for them anymore and so he lost them. He told me how he barely makes enough money at his job to afford anything but a delivery of food that he only ever has time to eat at work. He told me about a life so dismal that it made me feel like a god. I asked him who he was...

“You. Of course.”

I stopped and he passed me. He looked just like me. I followed him back to my house. I watched him go inside. I followed him in and listened as he called my girlfriend. He told her he'd just walked home. “First moments of silence he'd had since he met her” he said. This started an argument and by the end of it she had dumped me. He walked to work the next few days and I just followed him. No one in the office ever saw me. They just spoke to him and he was brash and rude. Soon he'd lost all his friends in the office and he lost the job. He moved shortly after. At least as far as anyone but I knew. Truly he'd just vanished. He'd left a me shaped hole in the world that I couldn't refill and had made sure that no one would notice it anyways.

So, now I'm just a ghost. I walk to work and then walk back. I repeat this path every day. I don't sleep. I don't need it. I don't have friends. They can't see me. I just walk back and forth alone with my thoughts.


Nobody Creepypasta


MORE! I MUST HAVE MORE!


I'm not crazy I just use a different definition of sanity...

The Forum Blunt Instrument. "Because sometimes the only way to get through to someone is with a sledgehammer."

Archon of Chaos.

Leader of the Cult of Filik.

Amalgam series goes in this order
Prestidigitation>Urban Malefic>The World Through These Eyeholes>Cold and Lonely Days>Metaphysical Fiction and Dawghouse>No Gods No Masters>Unlikely World>Epilogic
>Cresting The Wave

Extra stories that tie into The Somniverse at points and are not linked in the stories.
Sing to me Songs of The darkness>The One and Only
Last Rites
PM
alliterator
 Posted: Jun 24 2013, 04:01 AM
Quote


The Jerkface Man
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Group: Moderator
Posts: 7936
Member No.: 7
Joined: 17-May 11









Wow, Somn. Those were awesome.

If I could recommend something - the Nobody creepypasta goes a little too fast. When it flashes back to his life before at 18, I would stretch that part out, especially when he's walking home with Nobody behind him. If someone was walking behind me and I couldn't see them, only hear them, I would be incredibly creeped out.


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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proxiehunter
 Posted: Jun 24 2013, 04:14 AM
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Favored Servant
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Group: Moderator
Posts: 3047
Member No.: 22
Joined: 12-September 11









QUOTE (TheSomnambulist @ Jun 23 2013, 09:06 PM)


House of Fortune Creepypasta

Give me another one.



QUOTE
This time would be bad luck. He asked for the minimum bet. He was told there was no official minimum. As long as there was a bet on the table everything was good. So he bet 1. He was dealt a King and checking the other card a two. Thirteen.


Twelve. Only Aces are worth eleven (edit: And that's only when eleven wouldn't bust you. Otherwise they're worth one.). Tens, Jacks, Queens, and Kings are all worth ten.

Excellent and creepy though.
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