#miscelanious

[bobapplesims]

“ that was too much..”

This girl DOES NOT know her limits...someone help her (? Inkwell Ball by @savs-art

[arttoymaison]

CUTEPLANTS #cuteplants by #ArtToyMaison - This #creatures is #miscelanious Ganekogorta and is a #Resintoy #Resinart #Characterdesig #ArtToySpain #artdesign #artdecor #Artdeco #Interiorart #interiordesign #Arttoyculture #Artcollector #Arttoys #decorplants #botanical #creepy #creepyplants #plantstagram #flowers #creepycute

[nutmegtales]

Hunger

She knew this forest like the back of her hand. It was deep, and dark, and dangerous, she made sure of that. It was her own personal playground this forest, she’d bargained for it, fought for it, killed for it. It was hers in every sense that mattered. Why then people had begun to go missing in it, without her permission, was a mystery, an offense, and one she intended to find payment for.

Day one was uneventful, the outskirts of her territory, hardly much of worth here. There was the scent of fear lingering but… in her territory that wasn’t exactly unexpected.

Day two revealed a camp site, empty, abandoned with haste. Something had happened to make the occupants flee but… She couldn’t quite tell what. There was no fresh blood, no signs of a struggle really, nothing torn or destroyed just… abandoned. What a waste, seemed as though there’d been no real fun at all. Shame. Well at least the camp was still serviceable, it would make a novel stop for the night.

Day three was more…. interesting. They couldn’t be called bodies really, not any more. They had been human certainly, very human. She took the scent in in great delightful lung fulls. Human, fear, confusion, crushed bone, but… No blood. Not really. Just little spatters here and there. She took her time examining the decimated corpses. There had been three of them, now scattered amongst the trees. Her trees. And she hadn’t been the one to take the pleasure of their death. Their fear wasn’t for her. The girl new rage then. This was her forest, her people, it should be her that they fear in this place, not some imposter. It was impressive though she had to admit.

Day four she could feel it. She knew what day it was, they all knew when that time of the month was coming. She could feel it in her hair trying to grow, her nails trying to sharpen, her bones trying to shift. Tonight was the night. Her senses were sharper now, stronger, and she could practically taste the fear in the air now. It was delectable. Heavy, and rich, almost refined. It set her head spinning, her heart thrumming. Gods it was thrilling. She found another body today, and now the scent of blood was thick and lush…. not in the air but…. buried?

The day past in a blur of restless frustration. All her senses were thrumming, leaving her thrilled and on edge, she could hardly remember a time she was ever so excited.

It was late afternoon when she finally found it at the centre of her territory, the heart of her forest. She stepped out onto the edge of a clearing that should not have been there. Debris from the missing trees was strewn against the trunks of those that remained, large splinters goring the sturdy trunks, impaled with force. The earth in the middle of the clearing churned, and the smell of blood was suffocating.

She took a breath of the wonderful stifling air, tasting in it the delectable mingle of blood and terror, she stepped forward into the clearing and realized as her feet sunk into the earth where the smell was coming from. The earth was soft and sodden with blood. It sucked at her feet and she began to sink. She felt a small thrill of fear of her own then before it turned sharp into anger. How dare someone… something harm her territory like this. She looked up with hatred in her veins, right up into the eyes of the most intriguing woman she had ever seen. Her limbs and hair were crimson as blood, her chest adorned with ribs bare of flesh, her eyes filled with… hunger. The woman was angry, vicious, and hungry…. She could relate.

As the beautiful strange woman stepped towards her gracefully, hardly touching the surface of the swampy earth, the girl felt her blood burn. And as she sunk further into the hungry earth she saw the clouds part to reveal the moon. Full and lush, it was one her favourite sights, and now it shone down on them both, lending her its strength, its magic, its hunger.

The girl felt her body shift, bones splintering beneath skin, nails becoming talons, hair becoming fur, teeth to fangs, human to monster. The part of her that was animal took over and she pounced. The girl and the woman fought the night away, they fought for land, for territory, for hunting rights, for dominance, for each other’s bodies. The moon watched on as the girl fought in her honour, fought, and lost, and won.

Now when the locals tell the unwary hunters to be alert they ensure to tell them to bring both silver bullets, and an eternal flame. Watch out for the wolf that howls too sweet and for the lady that seeks your fear to eat.

The girl knew these forests like the back of her hand. It was deep, and dark, and dangerous, they made sure of that.

By NutMegTales

Read my other stuff here: Elsewhere University, Blood Tales, Dark Ones, Misc, Poetry

[nutmegtales]

Mirrors

I am a mirror girl. I live in reflections and refractions of light. I never feel so safe as when I’m behind the glass of a mirror, or beneath the gleam of a shining surface. I’ve learnt to hide just beyond the gleams of light, just close enough to feel the day on my skin, and hear the words of passers by, but just far enough beneath the surface that no one knows I’m here. There’s a whole world on the other side of the glass that no one knows about. No one but me anyway. It’s my safe little place that can take me anywhere I need to be. Inside a mirror, beneath the surface of a puddle, behind the glimmer in someone’s eye. I find these little places of bliss after wandering through the endless place between. Little abodes that are all just a step away through a puddle. I’ve learnt that there are more worlds than just mine to explore. Worlds with magic and fantastical creatures, hidden lives that are just a pane of glass away.

Recently I discovered that I haven’t been as careful as I should have been. I should have learnt to hide myself faster, I should have been more cautious stepping through realities, I should have been better at this, I should have just not used this skill at all. But now someone knows what I can do, now they want to find me. But they won’t. They can’t. Not here. Not in the place between. I’m safe as long as I stay behind the mirrors. I’m safe here, living as a reflection… I’m safe here alone.

By NutMegTales

Read my other stuff here: Elsewhere University, Blood Tales, Dark Ones, Misc, Poetry

[nutmegtales]

Dreams of fright and small delight

I am a shadow witch, here in my small town. Many used to fear me, and my strange dark ways. I stumbled upon this little town quite some years ago, and decided it was best I stay. I cleaned up their days of the lurking shade crawlers, always looking for children to steal away. I dusted out their closets, throwing old skeletons to the earth, so that new friendships may be made. I stalk their surrounding forests, chasing out the beasts that go bump in the dark. And I stalked their nights, weaving webs of gentle care to cage the monsters of nightmare.

It’s quite peaceful in my little town now. The children are safe to play in my shadows. The closets full of nothing but clothes. The beasts now mere memories and fairy tales told over flickering firelight as the drink flows freely. And every night I make my rounds, clearing old cobwebs of restless nights never had. Stealing away little creatures of terror and nightmare. I take them home and in the light of the moon I tame them. I teach them of the care they never knew, and of the love they had always rejected. And in my nights they felt protected, and begin to weave new stories for their sleeping victims. Stories of freedom and comfort, of glory and love, of joy and adventure. And I let my little creatures loose, to fill the dreams of my small town. I am the shadow witch, here in my small town. Once I was feared as a nightmare, and now I am a weaver of dreams.

By NutMegTales

Read my other stuff here: Elsewhere University, Blood Tales, Dark Ones, Misc, Poetry