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DementiaThe elderly woman, wrinkled, impotent and Dementia-stricken regained her mind, for just a few moments. For just a few minutes, the clarity of thought, of memory she'd had in her youth returned to her.
Just long enough for her to finally realise what was happening.
Her daughter -a professional woman, in her mid-thirties- signed a white slip of paper, giving her consent.
This was a nursing home, and a place to lock away the mentally deficient and the insane.
And her daughter was signing a contract, stating that her mother was no longer able to take care of herself, and so would spend the remainder of her natural life in this place. Drooling, unaware, wetting herself, and generally unaware of her life as a caged, pathetic display of the horrors of age.
Two men -orderlies-, dressed in the crisp white attire of hospital staff too the elderly woman away, leading her by the arms, gently saying about how "everything would be okay", and that she "shouldn't worry".
The woman wasn't listening, th
Inhuman We hadn't been humans since they took us from our homes, dragging us across a bullet soaked main street to the sound of government issued combat boots and savage cries.
For three weeks we were held in a glorified basement, fed sunlight through a small window high upon the filthy wall. Women wept over hollow children bathed in flickering electric lights and fat, buzzing flies.
But then the Doctor came and people started draining off the cracks on the floor. Suddenly, we were only ten and began developing a pavlovian response to the click of the door latch. I was the last to be taken, my stomach sewn onto my back and my stomach crusted over layers of dead skin and miscellaneous fluids, M14s hurrying my shaky steps.
I was finally delivered into a dark room and strapped onto a padded chair. The harsh lights were turned on when he arrived, forcing wonky shapes to writhe beneath my eyelids. My eyes swam in boiling tides
Creepypasta: A Routine CheckupCreepypasta: A Routine Checkup
Damn, looks like we’re fresh out of anesthetic. Eh, a gag soaked in brandy works equally well-oh, sorry, I’m just talking to myself. It’s so nice of you to come in for an appointment, I don’t get many patients anymore after losing my medical license. And my sanity. And my office. But this back alley seems the perfect place to practice dentistry. Did you know you’re supposed to see a dental professional at least once a-
What? Who am I and how did you get here? Well, as I said, I’m a dentist. More like the dentist, am I righ-SHUT UP, NURSE! Sorry about that, my nurse here never stays quiet for long enough. Anyhow, after getting kicked out of Nicaraguan medical school…er, again that is, because at first they wouldn’t even let me in and I had to sleep with the director before they’d…ahem, anyway, after that I set up shop in this alley behind the Burger Trench. Fast food is very bad for your te
NightmaresThe same fear has always been at the back of my mind, a recurring nightmare from long ago. It wasn’t my eventual death that terrified me, but the slow and agonizing torture before the end.
The desperate struggling, the begging. The pleas left ignored as I’m held back by hands… by chains. The pounding of each nail on the lid, sealing my fate forever. The banging and yelling, calling for help from anyone who could hear me. The scraping, bloody fingernails on wood. The drop, the heavy thud landing six feet below. Each shovel packing more and more of the earth, burying me alive. The suffocation and claustrophobia… oh god, the moment everything closes in and I knew it really was the end.
I always awoke gasping for air, shaking and hysterical. But this time, I don’t.
Because now, it isn't just a nightmare.
5naf tales PART 1POV #1- FOXY THE FOX
Foxy sighed as he listened to the trio on stage play the same stupid birthday song, just changing the name, over and over. It was 1987. A year after that man, Charles, maybe? He couldn't remember the night watch's name. But he had killed foxy and his friends, in cold blood. They had been forced into those disgusting robotic suits, and their young spirits refused to leave until they were justified. He growled softly under his breath, that same moment replaying in his mind over and over. The night watch had died shortly after. tripping due to a certain fox robot grabbing his leg. He fell, golden suit and all, into the trash compactor, without even a scream. True, there were stories of a "fifth child" being abducted and murdered with foxy and his friends, but in truth, that "fifth child" was the night watch who murdered them all. Foxy's growls grew louder. Lies. The newspaper held lies. He knew that soon he would be called to his stage, by freddy. He hated this job. "
Plague BirdsSt. Helens Bishopsgate, City of London. 1666
What had she done to earn this? Her husband and child dead and those… plague birds who had come ‘round while she was attending a birth in another home. The irony of it struck her as she swept a strand of fair hair out of her eyes. Delivering life in the midst of God’s displeasure. It almost made her doubt in His kindness. What sort of God would take life with one hand and permit another woman’s child to survive. She scrubbed a hand across her eyes, not caring that she left a dirt streak across the bridge of her nose.
Phoebe spat on the ground, averting her gaze from the plague bird in white as he hurried along and shut the nearest door behind him. Another death or soon enough from the look of things. The stink of burning flesh and smoke filled the air from the burning pits outside of the city. She turned away, being careful not to step into the filth and mud stirred in the street. There had been little enough m
ChargingOn my computer, doing computer things.
A notification pops up.
“Plug in laptop. Battery level: 7%”
I get up from my bed, go under my desk, unplug the useless charger that doesn’t charge anything, and plug in the laptop charger. Then I go back to doing computer things.
20 minutes later.
Notification pops up.
“Plug in laptop. Battery level: 7%”
I get up from my bed, go under my desk.
The useless charger is plugged in.
The laptop charger plug is on the floor.
Dear Amanda McCurdy,I heard a rumor that despite your ripe young age, you possess the sexual wisdom and prowess to make men faint. My ex-boyfriend totally seemed into what you had to offer so I was hoping for a little tutorial in how to become desperate; disregard morals, or, at the very least, the motto “treat others as you’d like to be treated”; sext, record explicit video of myself and photograph a variety of naked self-portraits just for the fun and attention I get from a man I happen to know is in a relationship; keep these antics up for a sweet sans bitter period of 4 months; knowingly make and model a handmade gift for his girlfriend and think it’s a respectable idea; overprice said gift by about 300 dollars whilst actually tricking the guy into not only paying that outrageous fee, but sending an upright gift, like an emergency pussy alarm for those lonely nites!
I’m hoping you have tips on where to buy cheap lingerie or lighting for those tricky close-ups when my fing
Counter-Cultural HiveDemonic dolls dripping acid drops into microdots for
Barbaric bogans to create chaotic commotion,
A telekinetic serial killer, a spine-chilling thriller,
My words are like venom to your cerrabellum,
Trapped in a system within a cubicle prison,
Self-medicated lethargy, destroying any last
Remnant of motivation and energy.
What's my name?
whatever I damn well choose it to be?
No appealation proliferation will manifest my destiny.
Imminent death is all about me,
No galaxy can avoid Saturlnalia inevitability,
City streets, dark and replete with bloodied sheets, slit-wrists,
And smashed windowpanes, spreading diseased shards throughout this murksome game.
Ragged feet, traversing concrete pathways,
Dark airways, blood spattered on the page,
Urchins, primed to disrupt and derange,
The norms, find us strange, frightening, exciting,
In disgust, we head down to the prophetic underground,
A dungeon of dragons and derelicts, despots and heretics,
Dope, Devilsih & Profound.
Here we can creat
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Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More