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 I can write stories me.

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Mirror

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Posts : 28
Join date : 2009-10-12
Age : 21
Location : darkest depths of the deepest black hole.

PostSubject: I can write stories me.   Sat Oct 31, 2009 12:13 am

Hello guys, it's me. I just wanted to let you all know I write short stories every now and again.
here is on called Happy Hospitality. It's a bit long.

I gazed across the masses of occupied hospital beds, the insect- esque guilt thing… slowly- almost stealthily embedded itself upon my spine, quaking. A rapid shiver jolted through to the tips of my spine….I was visibly shaking…. The synchronized echoes of shattered dreams- these of course, were the shattering screams-slowly filling my senses, creating the stench of sorrow.
Death, death, death… the word embedded in each and every one of their minds, some cope. Some don’t and beg to die. I believe that just a few months ago, he begged for his pain to be finished, on his chapped knees, staring at me from the brink of destruction… those matters are not to be talked about now…
A distant cry echoed throughout this ‘Happy’ hospital. The shattering of glass and the frame of our welcome door lay paralyzed upon the floor as it rhythmically hopped from one eerily misshapen foot to another. Clearly, this monstrosity of a human was my patient for the day. The mishaps of his mad-mad-madness were the ideas of true comedy. It fell. Flat. On. It’s. Face. It sensed the impending laughter from every thing in the room, in every ounce of menace squaring up to me. Staring through my sleepy- unaware- demeanour. He uttered an inconceivable slew of phrases. Stole away to the office- mine of course- sat and violently shivered, rattling the timbres of the chair. Making the cooling coffee vibrate gently, seemingly hypnotizing it… Although… hypnotism doesn’t work on clinically insane people. It launched a fist. Without moving an inch away from the coffee. Slowly, steadily, ignoring the blood, ignoring the obvious pain, I focused my intentions on helping him. Regardless of the fact it caused my pain. The rage sort of fuelled my voice: ‘Dead or alive, you’ll be OK’.
The reality of my situation slowly drifted away on the gushes of blood, gently staining the floor. A feint lullaby fills my hearing as pictures of meadows fill my unconscious mind… Happier times… alas, these drifted away as a breath touched my brown hair… Damn it. I was never allowed one peaceful moment… The pulsating headache made it more apparent I had fallen to the floor. Also the fact that a cold, unforgiving surface danced underneath my frozen fingertips. A blurry figure of righteousness graced the room with his presence. The tweed patterns on his suit, the nametag, Nitro, it all fitted. A mutual glance filled our eyes. Help is at hand for me…
We still were visually in the room, although time had frozen. Not a soul stirred. Our bodies slowly warped, twisted and our conscience entered his mind. Even now, we are unsure of how this happened. This mind, cracked & broken. Was a decrepit labyrinth, nothing more, nothing less. An unknown sense of fragility embedded itself in my head, letting illogical ideas fill my fearful brain. A tide of fog slowly leaked into the maze, altering and warping the room in which we stand. A slight cackle echoed throughout the distant room. A mere whisper of light stood in this room, banishing a portion of the ominous darkness. The horrific fog gently lifted, letting in a monstrosity. It hopped towards me, leaving cracks in the floor, unblinking eyes settled upon mine… I stared into the face of horror and macabre. Without the eyes straying from mine, It grabbed Nitro… Its body… slowly twisted around… the head then followed. It slowly ripped Nitro in half, savouring every demonic moment, acquainting itself with very drop of blood… I snapped my eyes shut. A mortifying wall of sacrifice struck against me. I had lost Nitro…
The sinister smirk slowly edged towards me. The jagged horns came into view. His intent was to rid me from his presence. The razor sharp fangs slowly bore down upon me, Its speed gave me time to reach the distant pocket and pull the knife from Its grasp… Its fangs, my knife. We connected in a perfect sequence of violent sparks. The bleeding and disjointed fangs slowly dropped to the floor allowing a malevolent flow of blood from his mouth to pass. As the fangs crashed against the floor they reflected the dying sounds of pain and oppression. Ignoring the nightmarish scenes, I left my dead assistant alone with the dying demon. The iconic cackling filled the empty surroundings. I entered a new room, a new start.
The walls of this room were intricately created patterns, purple, orange, yellow and green streaks interloped, distracting me, letting my eyes wander freely, and discover new patterns. This was all fine and dandy. Until the trophies. Nitro… his disembowelled corpse. Head, torso and limbs hung from the walls, flies gathering around them. The Lord of The Flies guided them to and fro, but safely ignored me. Thankfully… A ghastly, young figure appeared crouching in the middle of the room. The colour from the walls slowly drained until all was monotone. The dripping colours on the floor were bleeding into him. He let out the most horrific scream I have ever heard. He leapt threw the air towards me. Pinning me against the floor, bleeding patterns upon my blood red uniform… He grinned at me in a very familiar fashion…
The colours bled onto me. His persona slowly altered. Until I was staring at myself. The blood-shot eyes, tanned skin and expression of intense fear written all over my face. We moved in perfect timing both reached for the knives in our pockets. I needed a cunning plan and fast.
The plight would end soon. I slowly brought my knife to my throat; I uneasily yet viciously slit open my throat letting the blood spray out across the walls. Allowing colour to return to a mind can be a beautiful as the pretender lay motionless in the pool of blood. Overcome with rage I lifted the body into the air and hurled it against the ceiling, the corpse melted into the ceiling and for some reason, allowed the beautiful night sky to be viewed by all. The delicate, yet brilliant stars shone with integrity. The thought of being trapped in a mad-mans mind was safely pushed aside. That was until the curt flash. The hospital briefly appeared before me, twisted- unrealistic- awkward images appeared alongside this. Patients- Not happening- screaming in pain, as scalpels- oh this is magnificent- bore down upon the cowering shrouds of hatred. My scream echoed- nowhere- across the stars. The stars turned from peaceful- dazzling- shining objects to hate-filled angered idols. A demonic grin slowly faded- I could always see it… somehow- into sight. I dropped to my knees at the same speed as the sphere. Tears began to well up in my eyes, clouding my vision. The expression was less of a smile and more of a look of hatred- or it wants to get things over with- as it sped up and drew closer towards me. My eyes darted back and forth looking for an escape. The stars, they were afraid of death as well. They let out uncertain cackles which pierced my- almost gone- sanity. Glass shattered inside me as death itself knocked upon my door.
-My my, what an awful mess you have gotten into!-
The slow realisation that the malevolent shattering had stopped was slow. For I was lost in the swirling clouds, the gentle breeze lightly touched the blades of grass, allowing them to dance freely. I was lying under the shade of one tree, welcoming the cool feeling. This place literally allowed my thoughts to run free- oh come on where’s the moon? - I could not help being lost in the dance of the grass. I found myself gently swaying in the delicate breeze. Everything was perfect… Hmm, those jagged, silvery branches really spoil the trees gentle mood. The almost tribal face patterns though, give off a psychedelic feeling, almost making everything seem unreal. And really, those tribal patterns look horrific with the vampiric eyes squinting at me….. No!
That creature is dead, it lost too much blood- and fangs- Did it follow me to the other room? Why are mine and The Mirror’s knives replacing his fangs? Am I going insane- going? You are. - The mouth was agape; the knives would not close the mouth. An uncertain feeling crept through my mind allowing me to shiver. Death would not stop him this time.
Although… It clearly did. The thing collapsed forwards, eyes shut, blood streaming from his eyelids. The knives pierced my arm. Two holes… slowly… appeared…
I stumbled across the desolate landscape, my mind began to fail. My vision clouding… I fell to a stop.-Death is not my destiny today-
A deafly white noise filled my eras as reality slowly crawled back… I was lying on the hospital bed. Had I cured him? Had I - I doubt it! - cured him… no. The same cackling filled my ears for the last time. I would end it now. Dead or alive.
I slowly edged towards the cackling. The cackling thing came closer to me. All it was was a young boy. I could not see what was upon his face. All I could see were nightmarish spikes drawing from upon him. He faced me. The intricate patterns, purple, green, yellow and black, drew together in such simplicity, yet the details were there, they interloped, creating a marvellous pattern, one which distracted me. He drew the stars from the sky. The rained down upon me in a ferocious barrage. Piercing my uniform. Ripping the fabric. He drew upon the earth. Soil was hurled towards me striking me… killing me. He ripped the surroundings from beneath us, hurling everything towards me… I blacked out. I woke up with intense bruises… He was… still alive. Asleep. I quickly – carefully- drew out the glimmering – stained- knife. To end his suffering – Patients or yours? - bringing it down in a stabbing motion… slitting the throat… letting the blood spill… Finally…
- It’s not over yet-
A slipped into a coma. I woke up. I was in the hospital. Begging for – mercy- help. I slowly began to settle down, as a warm sound of congratulations filled my ears- I think he’s dead- The real world was as ambient as the Tree. Everything was calm, sedate, gently flowing.
I noticed the same tribal patterns, eyes and horns. He was still alive.
- The descent into madness is a long one, let it overcome you. Life’s more fun-
The ceremony began. Everything was warm and welcoming. All it is missing is the fanfare… Still congratulations were had. Everyone gathered around to hear my tale.


He is still there. The freaky rabbit is still here. Holding a knife. He is breathing down my back. Sharp pain. Flashings in the darkness……..






- Dead or alive. Can you not see the irony……………………he won-
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naughtytripmine

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Join date : 2009-10-17
Age : 22
Location : Milton Keynes

PostSubject: Re: I can write stories me.   Sat Oct 31, 2009 1:49 pm

Im liking the SHORT story, and its a bit freaky. Im guessing u got inspiration from doctor steinman?
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Mirror

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Join date : 2009-10-12
Age : 21
Location : darkest depths of the deepest black hole.

PostSubject: Re: I can write stories me.   Sat Oct 31, 2009 2:29 pm

no I wrote this ages ago. Before I started playing bioshock
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