Dreary Stories

A lost, grieving soul enters the jaws of an insatiable beast, where the eyes of uncannily well-preserved paintings reach for her weary, lonesome corpse like crows. This mansion has no history to be felt or heard; it's as if the rooms are hollow and ravenous, their stale tranquillity broken by irregular draughts that send shudders down her spine as oppressive as the clattering of a needle to the floor. There lie secrets. Secrets and betrayals. In the mirrors, familiar faces crawl out from their eternal doom to grasp her pale skin and whisper trenchant advice into her ears with a sickly tongue, hearing her heartbeat like the ticking of a clock; candles that breathe within her. Those faces have lain so long in wait among the stitches and threads of madness, waiting for her arrival. Though the hours crawl onwards, she remains, watching and listening to the whispers of sorrow that lurk behind her at every acrimonious gust of wind howling through the mouth of the great beast. What awaits her within these halls, engulfed in oppressive, potent mists of grief? Who may she meet in the reflections of trembling malady? Through it all, that face haunts her every step. Yellow skin and seething eyes. Ink-stained and bloody. Cackling as insidious as death. Woeful as grief.

Edgy description of life.

Sometimes I'd rather be asleep.

The Anderson's seemed like an every happy family on the outside. But we're they?

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A harsh reality, realized with poetry.

The world is an impossible space to navigate, one hundred percent of the time. That's widely agreed upon. Celeste is another blip in the universe; a twenty-three year old college student and full-time employee. Like many other blips, her doctors say she's an anxious, depressed, obsessively compulsive, bi-polar ball of ongoing issues. But, she tries hard anyway. She takes her meds, she does her job, pays her bills, and she somewhat completes her class work on time. But, when she decides to quit the medicated façade, some symptoms that she'd forgotten about rear its nasty head, again. And when they do, it attracts unwanted attention, and unwanted news about Celeste's purpose in the world. A purpose she never asked to have. A purpose she doesn't want. Maybe, she can help redeem the world. Maybe, it's not worth her efforts. Maybe, it's not up to her at all.

Um a person and my friend wanted me to make this so yeah ?? PS these will all be dumb, sappy and hella cheesy

I hope u enjoy!

honestly i don't think i even know what happened to flora

Dreams collide with Sunday. A quick read.

Paige gripped the piece of yellowing paper in her clenched hands. The spidery writing faded out at what seemed to be the most important part. "Your life is a game, don't fall into the trap. Escape before...." the rest of the page is blurred with ink, leading her to believe that it was wet at some point. The crinkled page fell to the floor as the clock struck midnight, and the world around went dark.

Long long ago in a book of stories came forth stories of sadness and dreary tales that come forth to bring sadness. These stories are for the faint of heart for these stories are concealed with dread and sad endings. For not though for these stories hold morals at the end of these tales known as dreary tales.

An old camera stored away under a withering floorboard, a missing person and a deadly story.

our love mended our broken wings to let us fly ( cho chang x draco malfoy ) ( © moonwrecked 2017 - ? ) ( fifth year to - ? )

A collection of encounters with unpleasant beings.