#entry i

[augustwstubbes]

The Wandering Frank & Mary: Entry I - Dognap - Part 6

The porch goers sat on their rocking chairs, gray skin freckled with little mushrooms, flies buzzed around their vacant eyes. Gravel crunched cacophonously. The skin of their necks rustled like ancient paper as they turned their hazy, marble eyes toward the road, finding a group of black-clad individuals, wearing sleek, featureless masks, save for 

a broken, white circle emblazoned on their foreheads. The figure, that made the group’s head, was at least a head taller than the second largest, but two heads taller than the rest and the only one wearing a long, black coat. They readjusted their gloves, assessing the crumbling Dognap.

Sherry pushed through the little inn’s door, her grin a garish, red slash across her pale face. “Hello there! You bunch look tired. Why don’t you come in for some coffee?”

Leather gloves snapped.

“Or perhaps a nice bath?” More Dognapians appeared behind her, spilling off of the porch’s splintered edges.

The figure in front cracked their neck and gestured with two fingers upward, in a spiralling motion. They retrieved odd, rifle-like contraptions from their backs, unfolding them to their full lengths. They looked to have been made from some sort sleek metal, much like their masks, rather than traditional wood and iron. Capsules were pulled from their belt pouches, blue and orange light glowing faintly from seams in the metal, they slid into apertures in the stocks of their rifles with soft clicks. Their rifles cocked, orange and blue lines snaking along the long barrels. The chorus of clicks summoned more of the dried Dognapians from their hiding places, like scavenging insects. They crawled from the uninhabitable buildings, gaunt and covered in fungi.

“We insist!” They growled, throwing themselves at the black-clad individuals, foam streaming from their dried red mouths.

The leader sidestepped Sherry and Perry, their long coat fluttering around them. They ignored the two, striding toward the inn’s rear side. The mother and son lunged again, their jaws uncoupled, but fell to the gravel, shrieking inhumanly, their bodies engulfed in hungry fire. White-hot flame lanced from the rifles, bathing Dognap in bright, orange light, that flickered jerkingly, devouring the kindling town with haste. Dognapians writhed, their gray flesh charring. Some, who came too close to the black-clad individuals were sprayed with unassuming jets of water, but before they could even acknowledge, they’d shriek and writhe, dissolving to nothing but wet bones. The leader’s long coat draped in a circle of black around them as they knelt behind the burning inn. They plucked a little brown feather from the ground, carefully spinning it between their thumb and forefinger. The broken ouroboros on their mask flickered orange. Carefully, they stowed the feather in one of the pouches around their belt, rising to their full, imposing height. They strode back into the burning village.

The “Welcome to Dognap” sign cracked and crumbled along with its dead tree. The green paint bubbled and blackened.

[delirious-writings]

Illiana's Diary.

Entry I.

It's dangerous to let your mind wander in situations like this. You could wind up in a situation that could be harmful to you. You could destroy a lot of your mental health if you let your mind go.

When you finally come to and you find yourself holding a bloody knife with your clothes covered in blood and a bloody, messy body is on the floor in front of you. That'd make your mind wander, to the worst most likely, wouldn't it? Or was that just me?

I was twelve when that happened to me. I think it really messed me up, but then again I think I was a mess before that. My childhood wasn't something most would consider normal, but I also was not normal.

I have a secret that no one knows. Well someone does and that scares me. The man that knows scares me, but I think if he did what he did to me, anyone would be scared of him.

He turned my life into something it was never supposed to be. He ruined my life, my chance of normal was completely destroyed because of him.

[badgersmetalbreakdown]

Burial In The Sky- Persistence Of Thought- Album Review 8/10 \m/

Burial In The Sky- Persistence Of Thought- Album Review 8/10 \m/

Burial in the Sky Persistence of thought

William Okronglis – vocals, rhythm guitar, bass

James Tomedi –  lead guitar, bass, keys, mandolin,

Sam Stewart – Drums

Samus Paulicelli – session drums

Out November 4th 2016

  Entry I

This song begins with about a full minute of some really atmospheric sounds, they build up slowly before the band comes in hard at the 1: 09 mark where you have the drums…

View On WordPress

[coexistflourishednsunkissed]

< ENTRY I >

I’m grateful for hitting 101 likes on a photo on Instagram. I’ve taken pictures for as long as I can remember and I’m trained in film photography. I can develop negatives and photos in a dark room. I love photos and capturing moments. But candid moments, not artificial posey type photos. I just love it so much not to mention I’m a fucking fantastic photographer. I’m so talented when it comes to taking photos. It brings me so much joy when others compliment me on my photos. Which is why the 101 likes means so much to me. It means 101 people find my work appealing enough to take the time to click on it and then double click it. Yes that is the photo that got 101 likes :) I figured I must as well attach to this blog post since I was talking about it.

Goals for tomorrow:

Wake up at 9am head to library/starbucks before 12pm Work on Econ homework/study for quiz/midterm Do stats homework after volunteer shift 👌🏽

[crossedveins]

I

I can’t say sorry because that’s not good enough and lord (whatever lord I don’t know whether or not to believe) knows I’ve tried and I can ask for forgiveness for all my sins and the shit that I let leak out of my now seemingly filthy mouth but I am not yet worthy of such kindness yet I still seem to stumble upon that shit and now everything is driving me fuckin crazy but I’m close to not let it break and my dear poor self the life I’m living is not a victimless crime and yet the shit that I’ve done I’ve never been locked up for so maybe once I get caught with the shit that I’m smoking or the shit that I’m dealing I’ll feel less guilty about my awful self and if I were to finally accept and love myself I feel I’d only do so if I felt I could be worthy enough to consider myself the bad guy but even the bad guys are mindful and rational at the least and sure yeah you can say I’ve got the stuff for it but I’m still young and maybe there’s enough room for change but you can’t save someone who doesn’t think they’re drowning you can’t help someone who doesn’t feel they deserve it and I can’t let anyone help a joker like me I’m meant for the dead but I keep living and the only change I know is the kind I slide off tables and into my pockets

[clickmeimnotavirus]

            It happened that there was a small, soft creature which quite resembled a squid or an octopus depending on the angle at which one approached it. We will call it Qortly. Qortly would float inchedly across the sky with its tentacles like strings and each of its eyes independent, much like each eye of a chameleon.

            It should come as no surprise that Qortly became some manner of celebrity among people, who would see it from the ground and wonder whether it were a plastic bag or a balloon before recognizing it as the small, soft creature Quortly about which they had heard.