Story cover for The Crow by FarrellKeeling
The Crow
  • WpView
    Leituras 57
  • WpVote
    Votos 3
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 1
  • WpHistory
    Tempo 16m
  • WpView
    Leituras 57
  • WpVote
    Votos 3
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 1
  • WpHistory
    Tempo 16m
Concluída, Primeira publicação em jan 07, 2019
A piece of horror-fiction I wrote back in school five years ago. Felt really nostalgic reading it back for the first time in a while and, even though my writing has (hopefully) moved on, I'm still a little proud of it. Enjoy!

"It began with me kneeling beside a crow's corpse. In retrospect, I realised my position would have appeared to others as though I was mourning for this creature. At the time, this couldn't have been further from the truth."
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It was a dark cold night-the night where the birds lay dead on the cold ground, listening in to the deceased whispers. This is the night where blood was once spilled. Jeremy hid behind a tree, holding on his thigh-his thigh was bleeding as he got stabbed. Jeremy looked at his wound, cursing under his breath. Jeremy looked around to see if anyone was nearby, there wasn't anyone nearby but he could hear the screaming of his pals. He could do nothing but to weep, he got out of his hiding spot and went deeper into the woods. He was wincing in pain as he dragged his injured leg. It was dark, too dark to the point even the moonlight couldn't provide light. Jeremy tripped over a tree root, he winced in pain, squeezing his injured thigh in pain. He soon heard a twig being snapped close to him. He pulled himself together, getting back on his feet. Dragging his leg once more. This time he raised the pace, panicking as he knew that he was being followed. He soon came across an abandoned truck that was in a small field. He smiled in relief, getting inside of the truck. He heard movement from his right, seeing a silhouette of a being that was coming closer to him. He panicked, climbing to the other seat to close the door. Once the door was closed, he locked the doors-backing away after. The door handle was being pulled aggressively but soon stopped. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around his thigh, he winced in pain as he made it tight. He looked around the truck, trying not to move too much. He eventually found a pen and a piece of paper. He started writing on it as a way to let anyone who came to the amusement park to leave immediately. first chapter of "The Drafted Reality and Dreams" has been rewritten! it's a bit shorter and has the same details just like the first chapter originally did. ⚠️ !This novel includes drugs, murder/murderers, cussing, suicide! ⚠️ [Draft] - No Proofreading or editing.
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They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.
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This collection of short stories span over a four-year period. I like to think of them as sudden bursts of frantic writings filled with certainty that I was on my way to becoming a literary genius. But after the story was complete and my creative juices had run dry, I would completely forget they existed. Wham! Bam! Thank you, Mam! I used and abused them. I'd only come back around if nothing better was available. I guess you could say I was quite the fiction fucker. When I did come back to revise, I was mortified to find out that - what I thought would make Stephen King jealous of me for once - was nothing but a one night stand with a bad case of beer goggles. Damn, she was ugly... Ugh!!! But don't fear, possible reader, these ladies have been reworked immensely with extreme make-overs, so they're looking pretty decent these days and deserve a chance. I always found myself coming back to fix the little bruises and then forget about them all over again. I didnt have the heart to throw them away. But now I must set them free. They need to get out and see the world. There's no reason to be scared, I tell them, if they don't accept you for who you are, then they're probably not your "type" anyway. So most have mutated into completely different animals from where they began. (See how I got the title? So clever, I am) They are not in any particular order, but "Fly on the wall", "The Healing Tree", "There's no monsters", and "Framed by a phantom" are very close to the first stories I'd ever written. The only other things I should note is, the twin tales "Crow's Peak Chronicles" was intended to be a trilogy; the third part has yet to be written and has a good chance of being released never. My personal favorite is, "Bird's eye view". Don't ask me why. hope you enjoy. - M.D. Stephens
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