Story cover for THE STORM by Emzy88
THE STORM
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    Tijd 9m
  • WpView
    reads 38
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    Stemmen 0
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    Delen 5
  • WpHistory
    Tijd 9m
Lopende, voor het eerst gepubliceerd jun. 06, 2019
I awoke with a start. My limbs felt numb from the cold of the air conditioning, radiating throughout the room. Any emotion left In my from my dream was sucked out of me as soon as my eyes flickered open. The barren white walls made my pale skin glow, some could've sworn I was the spitting Image of a modern day vampire. Pale, boney, fragile and.. well.. maybe just a little bit different. I see things the way others don't, you see they don't have the capability to understand reality.  Which Is how I ended up In this sick place. Call It what you will, "looney bin", "madhouse", "nuthouse", the weak words of the tamed don't amuse me. I know what I've seen, heard and felt.. I know others feel the storm I predict, and I know It will be the undoing of the tamed... It will be the undoing of you all.
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Inhoudsrichtlijnen
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Northern Exposure: The divided door LukenDuPont
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Without warning it began! The inevitable, I think it's fair to assume this book is not in my possession. This means I'm most likely dead. Most nights I wrestle the reason I have chosen to explain what happened, the things we did to each other, things no human being should witness. I Wright this simply to enlighten your poor soul and give you more of a chance than I had. A chance to survive what is most likely the brink of human extinction. Times are harder now and as the days go by we are less of our former selves. We have become husks floating around in a lost, desolate world. I look at this place and it still seems so alien to me, as the days roll into the nights I'm still unsure of how we got to this point. If you are reading this, you too are probably North and very much aware of what has happened to our beloved city. I feel a responsibility to inform you that you will most likely share the same fate as I have. I understand you may be wondering what's worse than death, trust me in this place death seems like a paradise compared. I do not know why I still feel so obligated to write this. To be honest most nights I think its just an escape from the madness, like a natural sedative it's the only way I can fall asleep in this hell. However I do need to clear my conscious and pay dividend for my demons. I need you to know what happened to me; I need you to know what we have become and what we are capable of. I need you to know why we have chosen to kill each other, why the smell of human flesh lingers in the air like slow roast pork on a Sunday afternoon. Why bodies litter our streets. Why things that seemed to be so impossible happen in front of our very own eyes. Why conformity i this place is the unreal ideas people live their lives by and why I was included into this group of youthful abominations. All of this might be irrelevant compared to what I am about to tell you.
At last | Editing  door TaurieKeianna
46 delen Compleet Voor volwassenen
New town. New identity. Same crazy. I love it!!! (insert enthusiastic voice ) (cough, cough) Not!! I hate it. I hate having to to hide who I am. But to protect the civilians and my new home from being destroyed like my last ones, I have obey the leader's rule. No matter if I do disapprove. But all of that changes when I meet, more like bump into someone who's special. ... DOOR OPENS. "Naomi Satchel!" my mother yells as she comes blaring through the doors. "Yes?" I say as I still lie under the covers. My mother pulls my cover from my body and tosses it on the floor. I quickly sit up in my bed and glare at her. "Get your ass up now you have half an hour left before your first-period starts and you better not be late," she demands. "Mom, this isn't my school. This isn't my home. I don't want to go." I whine and beg my mother at the same time to let me stay home. What was I thinking? My mom has an image to uphold being this perfect mother who loves and cares about her little baby girl. We both know the truth. Until a few years ago, I never even knew she existed. She and my father both agreed to send me here because they couldn't stand the fact that I fell in love with a black boy. Although neither of them would ever admit, that's the only reason why I know of her. I don't want to attend a school where I'm going to have to forsake who I truly am just to fit into their liking. How can I explain that to my mom when she sees everything to be black and white.
Foul Play door SpellTyped
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**WARNING** ~contains explicit content that may not be acceptable to all viewers. discretion advised~ "The question, 'why shouldn't I?' played on a loop in my head. I was fed up with biting my tongue and walking the so-called straight and narrow. It had gotten me nothing but misfortune. People walked all over me because I showed them that it was possible. They say to be kind. To love. To live your life purely. Not to expect anything in return. Why then, did it seem like all anyone wanted was to take from me? Take and take and take until there was nothing left, and even then, try to take more. I had been told, over and over, that if I lived by the principles I had been taught, it would all pay off. I don't know if I believe in it anymore. Any of it." *** Have you ever experienced moments of lost time? An eerie sense of Deja-vu? Most people have, it can be fairly common. For Fawn, however, that feeling seems to go a little deeper. She finds herself waking up in clothes she didn't put on. Noticing things in places she swore she didn't put them. Hours, sometimes even days, lost to her. She begins to wonder... is this normal? The answer to that question may be one she doesn't truly want to find. There's a game being played, one Fawn never knew she signed up for; And her opponent isn't one to play nice. Can Fawn win this game, fair and square? Or will she have to make a Foul Play? *** Ms.Witch *** Created (December) 2024 & Completed () 2025
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In my nightmares I am trapped on a mental ward. I can't move my hands without feeling the restriction of the straps. My head is as clear, no trace of the "madness." I strain against the black polyester with every ounce of strength and still I can't budge. My back hurts right to the base of my spine. Saliva is pooling in the back of my mouth. The staff have gone. I am alone. My heart pounds, ready to explode; my eyes scan left and right for signs of someone coming to help. No-one. Worn green curtains hang limp on flaking chrome rings and though the gap passers by pay me no attention at all.