Bloodthirsty: A Collection Of Scary Stories

Planets

Aria Querill.

Lila Johns.

Andrew Farland.

Jacob Song.

The list goes on and on. Missing people. People who had a life. Who went missing when they were needed most, to be never - ever - seen again. People who went missing in 1865, 2013, 1611, 1998. Their legacies left hanging. No similarities between them, except for one thing- they were all obsessed with the number 13. It was scribbled on their bedroom walls, their diaries, their bedposts. Crude messages of death returning to wonderland, or the stars flying from the gods, childish worlds brought to life. The earlier disappearances were called crazy. The later ones - plain insane. Now that I think about it, though, they were similar- all of them were writers. 

In the year 2014, a doctor noticed that 45% of writers today, (75% in the olde days) went crazy, one way or another. This - phenomenon - was soon called scriptores morbo, or Writers Disease. And the reason why these people went insane was brought to light. 

So the next time you see someone with a writers block, consider 13, and the message left by Aria Querill:

"Beware of your fossil fuels, your space races, your Moon expeditions - because you're not the only ones out there. And every time you walk out into the Outermost, they get angrier and angrier. Heed their message they left to me: You humans cannot meddle with things you barely know anything about. And they are right. We are not supreme- there are different life-forms out there that know of much more than us, who had been around millenia before the Big Bang, whos technology is like the stars to a tree- forever unreachable. And do not leave this story thinking it is nothing, just something that was a great fiction read: understand that we do not have much time left as solo beings on this planet, for things are noticing, sending scouts to find those with the potential to realize that we cannot always be the only ones. We are killing our own planet with our greed. We only have about 150 years left. We need their help. And they will come - the good and the bad. 

So, for once, reach out to the stars with those clawlike fingers and try to tell whether we are good enough for the scouts to notice. Or if we truly deserve to die- the entire human race."

Aria died three days before I published this. 

Heed, like she said. 

Heed- or die.