(Main blog is here)
Should I reblog the text posts with reaction images i draw on my personal blog to this blog y/n?
Second Rate- WIP poem thing that I decided to sing for some reason so I wouldn’t forget it’s tune
No matter what I do,
I’m always Number Two,
In the race
No blue ribbon for me,
Lost the gold medal
will always be
I’m a silver
I’m the runner-up
Never the first choice I’m
Always second rate
"Just a Story"- Written by ask-a-nephilem, Read by curi0usCanine
Those who write the scary stories for the internet tell us that what is real is more frightening than fiction. Those stories of the insane and sick. Jokes and scoffing at the fictional characters after just a second of fear. (very similar to the feeling after riding a rollercoaster).
The human mind itself is amazing for blocking out the things that it doesn’t understand of wants to not remember. You wouldn’t know from first look at me of course, someone so easily dismissed, a wallflower. Never having stood out in a crowd for long.
I used to read these kinds of stories all the time having been someone for the creepy and scary. It distracted me from the concurring depression that nagged at every component in my life. If even in fiction someone was having a worse time than me then i would feel better soon.
Most of the stories of course have no worries for them, some so irritating that they could never have actually occurred. But then I can’t tell you which ones because then you would know what to avoid. ;)
Instead I will give you a warning.
Those people and creatures you see out of the corner of your eye always would stem from your wild imagination and wanting for attention. When you are taking pills for those things and still see them, don’t brush it off. They certainly haven’t. And once they start talking to you when you lay in bed, don’t try to ignore them, closing your eyes doesn’t work anymore dear.
Once the itching starts dear you know its too late. Bringing the blade to your soft skin to remove the feeling will not save you. The blood only excites them. A tall figure standing outside your window. Fingernails clawing at your door. They know you are going insane, they relish it. Don’t give up dear, even when you stare at the bottle or begin to write your note with a pen they are watching you.
Do you think this is what they want?
Of course each monster has their share of body counts, if they really wanted you dead would they not fight among themselves over your corpse?
That unidentified fire in your house. Who do you think started it, dear? The marks on your body the morning after that you had no memory of? Oh I think they are having fun.
So go ahead, run, hide away as soon as you can get your precious things together. They may not find you again, going to the next victim to toy with. But don’t consider yourself abandoned completely young one. There are many to haunt but none quite as fun as a runner. Say hello next time you see me darling.