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Post by Raven on Aug 28, 2017 12:25:46 GMT -5
I love horror stories even though i am a chicken.
Thankfully I have nothing too spooky that has happened to me.
Does anyone esle love horror stories?
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Post by Deleted on Aug 28, 2017 12:32:33 GMT -5
kind of, I guess. . . I like horror stories that arne;t just for scares. they also have an actual story behind them. I guess I'm really specific with the stories I like.
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Post by Raven on Aug 28, 2017 12:39:10 GMT -5
That makes senses.
I'm more of a fan of stories rather than jumpsares and prefer when it's based of true events.
I also like debunking stories.
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Post by The Kat's KitKat on Aug 28, 2017 13:11:22 GMT -5
Storytime!
One time my younger siblings and their friends were telling scary stories in the bathroom that shares a wall with my bedroom (They were in there so they could tell stories in the dark) Anyway, I wasn't in there with them, so I decided I'd mess with them a little bit. I went into my bedroom and banged really hard on the wall on the side of the bathroom. Afterwards, they all ran out screaming! Apparently my mischief has caused a picture to fall of the wall (it didn't break thankfully) and they had just finished telling a super scary part of the story. Needless to say, they don't tell scary stories in the dark anymore CX
But yeah, horror stories are great fun to tell
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Post by Raven on Aug 28, 2017 17:05:47 GMT -5
wow
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Post by Raven on Aug 28, 2017 17:20:07 GMT -5
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Post by Raven on Aug 29, 2017 10:13:22 GMT -5
For me its my geography 102 glass Bleak
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Post by VIXENCLAW on Aug 29, 2017 11:46:15 GMT -5
i really love them during the day.
But when it's night? i wish i had never heard them.
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Post by Raven on Aug 30, 2017 17:46:48 GMT -5
same @vixenclaw
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Post by Raven on Aug 31, 2017 8:38:14 GMT -5
bumperoni
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Post by Thunderlake on Aug 31, 2017 9:06:21 GMT -5
this person at the dog park is literally a horror story
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Post by Raven on Aug 31, 2017 10:11:10 GMT -5
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Post by John 3:16 on Aug 31, 2017 16:25:13 GMT -5
the end of summer
dun dun DUN
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Post by ℜust ℜed ℜose on Aug 31, 2017 20:29:58 GMT -5
Never been great with horror, but those of you who do like it can enjoy my first attempt to write something scary/disturbing. And no, it's obviously not real. Warning for blood. Lots of blood. She’d sworn it wouldn’t happen again; she’d promised she was going to do something about it. She knew the solution. It was easy, it was clear. There was only one problem;
Arades was a coward.
The crescent moon was beautiful tonight, hanging above the world below. Silver, glittering. It cast its dull glow on the cobblestone streets below, leaving long shadows stretching down the alleyways. The great pines swayed in winds to the North, standing proudly, as if protecting the city from any danger the outside could offer. As if it was the outside they had to fear. Arades knew better. Anything other than the night would have been a relieving sight to see. But no, the only thing that stared back at her through the window was the moon. The very moon she swore she’d never see again; it turned her mad, made her rabid like a dog. Despite all the effort not to let it happen again, here she was.
Arades ran her hand along the smooth glass of the windowpane. Her clammy hands squeaked against the surface. She stared up at the dark sky, grey blue eyes wide, nearly mirroring the colour of the silver crescent above. A ghost of a smile touched her face for but an instant. The drizzle of rain outside made the glass cold to the touch, like ice under her hand. Only the faintest light of the burning oil lamps outside looked like they held any sort of warmth. The woman let her hands slide slowly down the window, her gaze locked on the sky, on the moon, on the clouds. She couldn’t help herself. She’d tried, she really had. She’d locked the door and hidden in the bathroom, but yet she couldn’t stay away. She wanted to cry now, for the woman knew exactly what happened next. But she could not cry. She could not think. This wasn’t her. This was a curse.
Quietly, she stood, her hands curled into small fists at her side, the wet of the window still dripping off her palms. She walked slowly over to the great oak door, the same one she’d left locked all night, only to fail here, to fail now. But that was not what was on her mind. She gripped the handle on the door tightly, her knuckles went white. Shame it had to happen again. Shame she’d get more blood on her hands tonight. Arades opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
She walked down the stairs, across the room and out the front door. There was no hesitation in her step, not a pause to her stride. She stood on the front steps to the little house, the rain coming down around her. She surely looked odd, her long white hair loose down her back, her expression deadly calm. Her dress was soaked through, the golden hem resting in the puddles gathered upon the streets. The rain left her drenched, but she did not seem to mind. The woman walked down the cobblestone streets, empty in the early morning.
The city was always so beautiful at night; it was a shame she never got to truly enjoy it. She walked calmly but quickly, taking a turn towards the hurried footsteps only a block down. She made no effort to mask her own steps, enjoy the thought that she brought a sinking feeling of dread to those who heard her coming. The town thought this a work of a serial killer who struck every night; in a way, they were right.
It was on the last turn that she spotted her company. It was a young man; he looked only a few years younger than Arades. He whirled around with wide eyes, but the fear had calmed once he saw her form. She knew she was silhouetted against the street light, nothing but the shadow of a woman’s form. The man stood up straight, raising his voice to call to her as she approached. "...Do you need help, Miss? It’s dangerous to be out late.”
They never expected a woman. A woman was too pure to kill a man; too innocent. Too incapable.
Arades remained silent, even once she stood right beside him. His mortal eyes flickered over her, confused, concerned.
She moved lightening quick, grabbing the man by the head and whirling around. She slammed the man's head against the brick wall with a sickening crack that echoed down the alleyways. She kept her hand pinning the broken man's skull to the wall, feeling the shards of bone digging into her palm. She stayed there for a long moment, finally dropping him in a lifeless heap on the ground, clicking her tongue at her bleeding palm.
The woman paused then, listening to the sound of shuffling footsteps. Hurried, now; perhaps they’d heard her. An old man, by the sound of it, hobbling on his cane. She kept her quick pace, not bothering to camouflage her footsteps. She wanted him to hear her. She wanted that old man to know it was the end of him. She wanted him, the people, the deaf; she wanted them to hear the sound of the reaper. She wanted them to fear her.
She followed him further into the city, down alleys and up side streets. A crooked smile split her lips; she wandered these roads every night. She knew the dead ends by heart. It wasn’t until the old man wound up in a corner with nowhere left to go that he turned. He saw her. Arades waved, ignoring the man's pleads for mercy, grabbing his cane, snapping it in two. She pressed one hand to the man's shoulder to hold him steady, impaling him on it. It filled the wound with splinters, dark blood running onto her finger tips. A thin shadow crossed over the man's face as rain clouds covered the moon. Arades stared down in shock at the man as he bled out, in horror at her own blood palms, sinking to her knees. On the blood paved alleyway two blocks down from the park, the woman sat alone on the ground and began to cry.
---
She didn’t know how long she sat there. The lights glared down upon her back, the rain washed away what Arades had coughed up, carrying it into the storm drains. Eyes watering, the woman limped off again, running, mopping her soaked hair out of her eyes. Wiping her eyes. Wiping her face. Wiping her hands on her dress and getting them wet all over again. Her heartbeat had not calmed; not even for a moment.
Don’t look at it, don’t look at it, she’d thought to herself. As if repeating it a million times would make it so! Pah, she snapped another neck all because she hadn’t the guts left to… No. she couldn’t. That was this curse. The torment, the bleeding, but never truly dying. The pain only stopped once she made the others feel it. But she always killed them too soon.
She hadn’t been able to die. She locked herself up in a box, trying to starve, trying to do anything. She had chewed her way out on the third month, in time for the blue moon. This curse wouldn’t kill her. It couldn’t. She couldn’t.
---
Arades shoved the door to her house open and flung herself on the floor. The carpet stung the skin off her arms, but she didn’t care. She lay face down, wallowing in her own self pity. The demoness clutched a tight fist, beating her hands soundlessly on the floor. She didn’t want to kill another man; who would?! She could not forget the looks in their eyes. Took his cane in her hands. Snapped, splintered. Held it in halves. Bleeding palms, filled with wood. Impaled him on the end of the splintered cane, left him to stain the stone scarlet. The rain still hadn’t washed it all away.
Arades rubbed her eyes, her cheeks stinging and her face hot. There were better options, but it felt like she’d tried all of them. The woman stared at her own reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall, crooked from her outburst. Her own grey eyes stared back at her. Those eyes that betrayed her, the eyes that could not bear the sight of the moon. She knew what she had to do, but the hardest part was actually doing it.
Each step was harder than the next. She forced herself up the stairs and into the bedroom. She loomed over the washstand, looking at her own reflection. She was not beautiful. They called her the beautiful lady but she was never beautiful. She was a murderer, a monster. Such a woman was not beautiful; never would be.
Hands shaking, Arades pulled out the handle of the drawer and removed a long knife from its resting place. She took a deep breath, holding the cold metal in her hands. It felt foreign. It felt so smooth, unnatural. It felt... dead.
She lifted the blade with unsteady hands. She could see the knife inches from her eyes, and then her vision was red.
She didn’t think it would hurt so much.
The blade slipped from her clattered loudly to the floor, the woman dropping to her knees and gasping for air. Each breath felt ragged, her heart racing and insides twisted into a knot. The air was filled with the metallic tang of blood, a cent and taste like copper. Fighting back a whimper, Arades blindly patted the floor around her to find the hem of her dress. Her hands met soft velvet and she tore a long strip of fabric off the dress, tying it around her head. Her hands were still wet. Slick. She lowered her shaking hands to her sides, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
She was alone in the darkness, but there was no hunger for blood. The only pain that gnawed at her was her bleeding sockets.
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Post by Saint Ambrosef on Aug 31, 2017 20:31:29 GMT -5
me booting up the movie: this is an excellent idea!!! ready for some spoopy
me at 2:43am: hahahahaha i hate myself
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Asexual
Salty Serval
Friendship makes robotic henchmen cheap.
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Post by Salty Serval on Sept 1, 2017 23:10:46 GMT -5
I can't handle horror. At all.
Storytime! I once went to a local cornmaze with one of my friends when I was in 6th grade. After dark, since the place is only open around Halloween, they turn the maze into a scary path you walk through. My friend I was with is a HUGE fan of any kind of horror so I decided to take her to the place after dark, even though I cannot handle anything scary. (Also they had paintball only after dark so I had to do that.) While we were buying our tickets, this dude with a freakin zombie on his shoulder runs towards my friend and I. We both scream and make a beeline to the restrooms and we hide in the same stall, both of us standing on the toilet. The guy and the zombie puppet follows us and we can hear him outside the door. My friend, who us like 10x more brave than I am, decides to leave and talk to the guy. I don't. I stay in that stall for legit 10 minutes until my mom came to the door and told me she had asked the guy to stay away from me. I was so traumatized I didn't go through the path-thing. (Which was good because my friend said that they got chased out by a guy with a chainsaw at the end, so if that happened to me I would have passed out.) After I'd calmed down we actually got a group photo with the zombie-puppet dude. In that photo I'm as far away from the guy as possible with this weird look on my face. I've been back to that same place since then, and plan to go again this year. But I'm never going after dark. I'm sticking with the corn mazes and unhealthy food.
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Post by Thunderlake on Sept 2, 2017 9:54:28 GMT -5
my five and a half month old puppy plays rough (as do most dogs in the dog park ????) but since shes young shes still learning when enough is enough. so this girl flipped out on me and long story short came up like she was going to hit me but i stood up and she realized how tall i was. so she backed down and her father wa like "omg are u going to hit my daughter???" like lowkey wish i could maybe itd knock some sense into her. the girl kept saying "hit me i dare u hit me!!!" like over and over lIKE HOW OLD ARE U??? she was literally at LEAST 30. i told her if she even touches me in a negative way she's going to jail. that shut her up for about .2 seconds. she told me to leave the dog park and i refused. so i stayed an extra like 20 minutes until she left just to prove my point. one other person was there who i know and when his puppy tried to play with hers he left. some important points - she said her puppy was like 7 to 9 months i forgot how old. i said mine is 5 1/2 - her puppy wAS TEN TIMES BIGGER THAN MINE AND LOOKED LIKE A BEAR - every single time she comes to the dog park she creates issues. she hovers over her puppy and doesnt let him play so her anxiety stresses the dogs out and they tend to get somewhat aggressive because of this - shes at least thirty and im almost 17 - the best reaction was when i called her dumb and she was all like "WHAAAAAT???" she said "this is a DOG park" and i said "i know, i can read. im not dumb but you kinda are" - i have never had an issue like this before - im gonna be filing a complaint lol - im very well known at the dog park and im one of the regulars. so she messed with the wrong person because now nobody is going to want to be around her hah
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#add8e6
Name Colour
*Ravenpaw*
Warrior Fanatic
*reads books in a corner*
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Post by *Ravenpaw* on Sept 2, 2017 17:00:45 GMT -5
Sort of?
A horror story for me would be wondering what Robert Frost wrote about chickens.... 0.0
#truestory
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