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PrologueStrings of Fate
By Vylot Hart
"Magic is an individual action, undertaken because the cosmos is
not believed to be benevolent by nature, or, at least, not benevolent
enough to that person"
-Maya Deren, Divine Horsemen: The Living Gods of Haiti, London, 1953
Salem, Massachusetts, U.S.A.
September 20th, 1692
A tall woman, young but prematurely aged by grief, pain a
Bone MongerEva was dying. Her parents spent all their time, all their money on the search for a solution; for a way out. Eva didn't mind if she died, she'd been in pain for so long that she wasn't scared any more. But, more than anything, her parents wanted her to live, they were desperate to the point of being obsessed. So she went along with them, she drank the foul-tasting medicines, she took the vitamins, she travelled far and wide with her parents, going from doctor to doctor. The problem, though, was that no one knew why she was dying, and no one knew how to make her stop. Eventually, of course, her parents ran out of options and they had no one left to turn, no hope of life-saving advice. But one of the doctors, of the faceless multitude of beings clad in white coats, suggested her parents take her to a man called Cain Mayhew. While rather unscrupulous, the man had a history of saving those who had long been hailed as lost causes. It took a lot of asking on her father's b
Ever since Lira was a little girl, for as long as she could remember there had been a box in her attic. It was a large wooden crate, perfectly square and dark blue in colour. Painted designs interrupted the smooth dark blue that lazily spread across the wooden surface. Golden swirls curled across the top, and silver vines trailed along the sides. It was rather like a jack in the box, except that it was taller than her, and there were no seams. No gaps that might indicate the presence of a lid. Even painted. She should've been able to find those lines. It was almost as if the box had always been one single part, with no opening.
But that was silly. Her father called it a box, and all boxes opened. So there must be a way inside.
Lira had always wondered what was inside the box. Spending many hours sitting beside the box, tracing the shape of the swirls and the vines with one finger. Sometimes her mothe
BryonyMany years ago, before humans had overrun the Earth, and when the Fey and the Old Gods ruled, there lived a woman called Bryony.
Dancers in their dozens, clad in velvet and lace stamped patterns across a marble floor. Four walls wrought from silver and finely carved ebony and spaced far apart surrounded them. Musicians, armed with fiddles, drums, harps and a litany of other instruments, enchanted their listeners, enticing them, forcing them to sway and glide.
The musicians were led by a tall woman in a black silk gown, batwing sleeves on full display as she sang, arms raised but held close to her chest. Long dark hair draped over her shoulders, carelessly arranged. The greatest of all Chantresses, her voice sweeter than birdsong, warm and slow as dripping honey; more skilled than any opera singer.
Her name was Bryony and she was a Pied Piper.
At her command violins wailed and drums pounded, the dancers' movements mirroring each other perfectly, moving exactly how she wanted
Words: A Study in SynesthaesiaSynaesthesia: A Study in Words
Tastes and colours race across the page, Words flash, brilliant and made flesh. Become what they describe, embody who they name; those who are, those who have been, and those who never were. Words, tampered with by Human minds and voices, become afraid, vulnerable. Diminished by the time their Human captors were done with them. Awesome was no longer to be feared, his personality changed accordingly, to correspond to the new meaning Humans had attributed to him.
By changing the meaning of a Word, you change the shape of it.
Then new words, poorly formed, over-casual and sometimes offensive muscled their way in, demanding equal attention and love.
Some Word-Slaves, like poor dear Aerodrome and Shenanigan, were taken out to the woods and shot by decree of the Humans. No longer wanted, no longer needed.
The Words became angry.
They started to fight among themselves.
Pain and Joy fought a mighty battle; and would have fought to the Death, but he was busy that
Video Games [BEN x Lost Silver fanfiction]"You won't beat me this time!" Ben yelled while controlling his vehicle in Mario Kart race. "Oh really?" Silver smirked, very much unlike him and his usual shy behaviour. "I'll win this round too!" He exclaimed exicitedly. They continued playing and playing and every now and then the others would hear one's shouts of happiness and the other one's groans about unfair life, but eventually everything'd settle down for a moment until they start playing again. There was something about those two, the bond they shared included much more than just video games, but they certainly were the ones that had bonded them in the first place. Silver, being the shy and quiet person he is, was never like that when he was around Ben. And whenever he got in a trouble with Red, Ben would be right there to jump in and defend Silver. It was that kind of relationship that could only be described as 'skinny love'- that type of love where the feelings are returned, but none of either two would say them ou
Drowned on the FloorI drowned on the floor of the bar that night.
I'm sure some of you know that feeling when you know you're about to die, and your life flashes before your eyes. The hero in this situation doesn't give up, and they come up strong in the end. But I'm not a hero, and I am nor great or strong, and in reality, there are no heroes. Just hearts in the right place. But there were no good hearts in the right place at the right time for me. I guess I wasn't worth it.
I should have known, because I drowned on the floor of the bar that night.
The streetlights flickered on as I walked down the pavement, I could hear loud music in the distance, I was getting closer. I heard you were going to the bar, which Courtney had reserved for the party, and that was the only reason I went. Everything I head about you was perfect, everything was good and sweet and charming, and I needed someone like that to tell me they cared, someone wonderful. Someone like you.
It was all a mistake, because I drowned on the fl
I'm Telling You WhyAs Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, the scene of carnage unfolded. Sunlight winked off of bodies lying prone in the snow, while acrid smoke still curled from massive craters where grand houses used to be. Bits of gifts, decorations, and more unmentionable things littered the ground and the sound of weeping rent the frosty air.
They had toiled all year to prevent his coming, but even the best of us screw up from time to time. The town's children gathered around the holes that were all that remained of their neighbors and friends. Holding hands, they recited the chant they repeated at this time every year:
"He sees you when you're sleeping,
He knows when you're awake,
He knows if you've been bad or good
so be good for goodness sake..."
A tourist who had been passing through town stumbled out of the local inn. He was a nice enough chap; he was just lonely. His Christmas Eve was spent folded over the bar counter. As his eyes adjusted to the glaring sunlight, he chok
The guitar pick [Eyeless SamXEyeless Jack fanfic]Sam loved walking around the forest at night- as dangerous as it may appear, it calmed her down on many levels and has helped her cope with world. She was different, too different from the others, she'd heard people calling her a monster, a freak, a weirdo. But she merely didn't care anymore. Though, she was lonely. She wasn't in need of a friend, no, she was just willing to talk to someone. The silence was frightening- worse than all the mess and noises of the city, which she didn't go in anymore.
However, stumbling around the woods she noticed that she's gotten to the place she's never been at before. She seemed to be in front of some old abandoned building, most likely to be the old factory of some sort. She went all around, investigating, as she's got nothing else to do at this hour. She explored every room, finding nothing that could be important or useful. She sighed, getting out of the building to what seemed to be a backyard of some sort. She noticed a part of big metal t
Run AwayI took a bite of my sandwich, but the silence of the room seemed to be devouring me instead. I was in my creative writing teacher's classroom, eating my lunch while listening as he began to strum the strings of his guitar.
"We're in the band hall. Come if convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway." A text from my friend read.
"Thank, god," I breathed. It's not that I minded being alone, but there was a distinct difference between being alone and feeling alone. Right now it was the latter that was bothering me.
I walked out to the hallway to get to the stairs, about to reach the door that would take me outside when I heard a voice.
"How are you?"
I looked around. The only person in the hall besides me was a boy with orange hair and a beard. He was sitting down, leaning against the white wall behind him.
Was he actually talking to me? I'd never seen him before.
"Um….okay, I guess. How are you?" I wanted to get away from him, to go be with my friends who were pr
The wolf in the shadows (they called him Jack) Once, there lived a man who was a wolf, cunning and fierce and deadly. Although he was a wolf he did not look or act like one, so he hid happily in the streets of the city.
By the day he was simple, kind, and intelligent. A small timid rabbit of a man, and a gentleman by any account.
However, when the sun died turning light to dark, he would pull off his heavy veneer revealing the truth. He is a monster something far too hideous for the likes of day.
His hands were the guillotine, the justified executioner. Skilled and dangerous, they did as they pleased with no regrets.
His knives were claws, hard, shard, and smooth, aching to rip, tear, and slice into light skins, to drink dripping shades of red.
His victims, like him, were faceless hunters in the night. They preyed on the weak minded, pressing lustly sins upon them. The ladies of the night were cattle ready for his slaughter.
He carefully lured the ravens deep into the shadows where h
My new eyes [Kitty X Jeff The Killer fanfiction]Prologue - "Introduction"
- Hello, humans. My name is Kitty.
As you can see already, I am no ordinary girl. I was born with these cat ears and tail of mine. I've been teased a lot because of those, you know. But with time, I got used to it. I just grew to unlike people. Don't get me wrong, I'm quite happy and friendly to people who deserve it, but I've been bullied and hurt so many times about the way I am... Good thing I have these claws of mine- Oh. Nevermind. I'm not planning to scare you away... yet.
Anyway, I may have sounded like a loner here, but that's not true. I have m two best friends, Shadow and Jen. Also the two wolf demons I was born with, but sometimes I get confused about their actual existence. Other people can't see them. I can't see them- though, I can't really see anything. I was born blind. But I'm getting off topic- the two wolf demons, Yoru and Yuri and... Jeff. Yeah, Jeff.
I glanced up, feeling bright light meeting my
LullabyWhen I first awoke, I couldn't tell what it was that had disturbed me. A bad dream perhaps? No, that wasn't right. Leaning up in my bed, I shook my head in an effort to clear my mind, like it would help, and tried once more to identify what had woken me.
Then, in the dark room, it happened again and I realized I should have stayed asleep.
It started with nothing but a whisper, like the slightest breath of wind, but it didn't stop there. It kept growing. I clamped my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut but that never really helped before.
The wails were always too loud. They were impossible to drown out.
I couldn't help it I started to shake. I could feel my hands start to sweat. The wails seemed to get louder and louder, yet I knew no one else could hear them. They never did.
It was just me, alone in this black room, who knew.
I ignored them for as long as I could, but they just got worse. Their pitch increased and I thought my head was going to explode.
The Butcher A thin man of medium height in a dull brown trench coat washes the blood off of a stab wound on his right forearm. He applies some ointment and wraps it in a cloth bandage to stave off infection, then takes a small knife, with silver engravings in the handle, out of his pocket and rinses it in the sink, setting it to dry on a small rack. He readies some hot mop water and finds his mop, in order to clean the blood from the floor, some of which was his, but most of which wasn't. He'd work his way from the kitchen to one of the back rooms of his establishment, where pigs were on hooks to bleed out to be ready for butchering. He worked to the back wall, where, to the untrained eye, the blood stopped. The man pushed on the loose section of back wall then slid it aside, revealing a metal door.
He opens it, and then looks at his grim hobby. Ten human corpses, all female because testosterone makes meat tougher than he liked, hung from racks to bleed in order to be butchered. He mop
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AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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