I’ve been reading Reddit’s nosleep section for kicks, and wanted to contribute. So I threw together a quick story based loosely on some childhood memories. The scariest stories are the ones partially based on truth, right?
Items in Category: Writing
I’d first like to begin by saying I’ve written about this topic [intlink id="leviathan--story-time"]several[/intlink] [intlink id="every-little-thing"]times[/intlink] already. But while those were basically artistic impressions, this is an outright essay on the mild disquiet I feel every day while embedded in this society, and what probably causes it. I’m warning you right now that it’s exceedingly long… about twelve pages going by word-count alone. You’ve been warned.
In the world that we despise,
are there times of loss or wonder?
Toiling ever, full of lies,
sick of writhing, going under.
Many fathers only want the best for their daughters: the most competitive colleges, the fanciest cars, a man that’s truly worthy of her attention. Jim Seymore, a local butcher, bemoans his daughter’s choice of a successful brain surgeon instead of a vampire in her search for love.
And she who danced upon the darkness,
breaks and thrashes on the floor.
Throwing fits of rage and fury,
torn and sundered to the core.