27 Jul, 2016 09:47 AM
I’ll always remember my first pick up. It’s one of those things. Like your first love, your first car, or your first pet, but they are good memories. My first job is stored away in my bad memories box, but often comes to mind to send a shudder down my spine. I have seen worse since, but that was my first and I was a virgin to death then.
For the first three days I didn´t see a corpse. I was washing cars, cleaning coffins, learning procedures, all the basic stuff. I was starting to think this job would be easy, then one night they called me on the mobile phone to go to a scene. We went to an apartment building in a less than desirable part of town. The apartment was on the seventh floor. When we reached the door to the apartment I was told by my... [Read More]
, True Story
, GraphicVotes: 3
23 Jun, 2016 11:26 PM
Crumbs fall between my thighs as I munch on my favorite sugar wafers from the Dollar Store. He leans over, looks at me in disgust, then suggests we come up with a way to recreate Heydrich’s gas chambers. He lists off the names of all the people he would shove inside and then admits most of us should probably just volunteer ourselves to go in. Such a disgusting destructive people we are. I begin to draw out a blueprint, but then we grow bored of the whole idea and make love the rest of the night. So much more exciting to see him scream out in agony and hatred when I pull on his balls too hard. I think I felt some skin tear. In the middle of the everglades, bald birds begin to blockade my car. They look like scavengers and I’m sure they are hoping for some left... [Read More]
Tags: Dark World
, Dark MindVotes: 0
10 Jun, 2016 08:36 PM
We're exhausted and our souls have grown weary. Just like the clothes you wore wear out, your soul also wears out. Soon, the tiredness will overwhelm all and there will only be a darkness surrounding the hopes of the souls' wandering. "Does life matter? Does it matter? Does it?" we ask these questions many times. We struggle and frantically kick the air about us but we hit nothing. We're all alone. We suffer alone, and all we love, we love alone.
Some love wishes are granted, and some are rejected. Some death wishes are granted, and some are rejected. Some hope wishes are granted, but some are crushed. The world we live in is as such. Crying out, "Cruel!" doesn't help anyone. No one cares, no one sees. No one sees the hand drowning in the midst of the crowd and assuming it as a waving hand, non fathom. Non... [Read More]
, BeautyVotes: 4
09 Jun, 2016 11:59 AM
Isobell Jankans is a beautiful young woman. Dyed black hair, silver eyes, pale skin, black finger nails, full lips. She feels no pain. Ever.
Isobell was sitting at her table with her go things when the most "popular" prissy princess stopped behind her.
"You always know when she's on her period, Belle," she says.
She's crabber than usual, Belle." They laughed and started to walk away slowly.
"Who are you talking about, Clem?"
"Why, Isobell Jankans of course!"
Now you see, Isobell got to mad, she made a master plan in her head, that she was going to carry out on her own, but 2 of her little gothlings,Raven and Zander, wanted to help. So she told them the plan.
5 hours and 33 seconds later, they had Clem and Belle tied down in metal chairs in Isobell's soundproof basement.
"You hag!" Clem yelled. "Let us go! HELP!... [Read More]
, GraphicVotes: 6
07 Apr, 2016 03:29 AM
At first, it’s like any other day. I awakened, showered, brewed my morning cup of joe, and that is when I first saw…outside, there was nothing…no moonlight, stars, or anything! It was like an endless black void of space. My mind was racing; Where was I…What is going on…Why is this happening? I caught myself and thought that maybe it is just extremely dark outside because the lights are not working.
Standing there in front of the window, I carefully sipped my coffee…cautious not to burn my tongue. I paused, patiently, to try to see if the lights will come back on, or that I will see some shred of moonlight in the nighttime sky. “Maybe I should just go and lay back down.”, I thought to myself. Turning around to leave, I noticed that all of my furniture has disappeared. “Where did all of my stuff go.”, I said... [Read More]
, FearVotes: 3
19 Feb, 2016 11:56 AM
Bitter Sweet Symphony
“Daddy, where’s mummy”??
My 6 year old son looks up at me from his bowl of kellogs corn flakes I had just served him, with milk dripping from his lower lips and worry in his eyes.
“Daddy, where’s mummy”??
He asked again
I couldn’t look him in the eyes, what would I say?? How will I explain this to him??
Where did my loving wife go??
I had asked myself that question for almost a year now, where did my loving wife go??
Funto was her name, I called her my Elf, not because she had pointy ears, no, I called her elf because she always managed to stay beautiful, look the same way all through the time I knew her. Where did my elf go??
She was the girl your parents prayed for you to find, the perfect wife. Loving, caring and ooh boy could she... [Read More]
, DemonsVotes: 3
02 Jan, 2016 01:52 PM
See the mirror and it'll reflect the truth of who you are. It's not your reflection of you, but a glimpse of dark reality that exists on the other
side; reflection is the truth and you are not.
Dark Ink greyish black clouds engulf the whole light out of the sky. Drizzle wets the grass and rough stones that stand erect at the headside of graves. Figures in black clothes mourn in the miasma of rain. A cackle of thunder followed by the flashing light on the horizon silences the dead souls; highlighting the face among many who never sheds a tear over the loss of her sister.
She is standing starring at her reflection in dimmed glowing light of fire in hearth. But despite the burning fire, the room is still cold as if someone's chilly sighs freezes it to death. She isn't starring at herself but it is... [Read More]
Tags: Dark Mind
, InsaneVotes: 0
28 Sep, 2015 04:06 AM
60..59..58..57..56..It's pointless. Why should all these people live? These teenagers. Of course, I'm one too, yet I feel as though I'm much more than them. Their lives mean nothing. All they do is have sex, do drugs, drink, bully. What use are they? What use am I? It's time for someone to do something about these awful people.To get rid of them. There are others like me. Others who think they should all die. They're nothing. They should all burn in hell for their sins. If we come together, we can rid the world of them all. Everyone will see what good we've done. They'll thank us. We'll be remembered.
40..39..38..37..36..It's so exciting. Here we all are, in the gym together. And once again, our school team is losing. 8 to 0. All they do is dribble the ball and shoot. So pointless. What good will that do in this... [Read More]
, GraphicVotes: 2
27 Aug, 2015 06:27 AM
I sat on to my bed, starring up at the cracked, old, concrete ceiling and drifted in thought. I was once again trying to find a reason behind what I do, but came to the same conclusion every time. There was no reason, I just loved it. Every little second was a free-fall, so much adrenaline but no outlet, other than screaming or laughing. The best part was the last few seconds, as strange as that sounds the exact moment when you see the light and life leave there dull eyes, there last pitiful breath. I’m addicted to killing, or rather the screams and blood that comes along with it. I smiled, taking a break from my thoughts, and reached for the plastic cup sitting on the floor with shaking hands. Downing the contents of the cup, I cursed, and decided to get some more tonight.
As I walked down... [Read More]
Tags: Serial Killer
, I'm BaaackVotes: 16
01 Aug, 2015 02:52 PM
Sunshine and prairie grass–well in the foreground over grown thick and untamed.
For the background, perhaps a thousand miles away or more than half a decade removed in time. In the blue sky a meadow lark’s love song, and in the grass the boom of the prairie chicken’s wings are the only sounds that break the primeval silence, excepting the lisping of the wind which dimples the broad acres of tall grass–thousand upon thousand of acres–that stretch eastward for miles toward an old farm. To the left the prairie grass rises upon a low hill, belted with limestone and finally merges into the edge of the far horizon.
To the southward on the canvas the prairie grass is broken by the heavy green foliage above a sluggish stream that writhes and twists and turns through the prairie strong winds, which rises above the stream and meets another limestone... [Read More]
, WizardVotes: 18