A small dose of Nina Walters
  • Reads 73
  • Votes 0
  • Parts 7
  • Time 55m
  • Reads 73
  • Votes 0
  • Parts 7
  • Time 55m
Ongoing, First published Dec 05, 2012
"Dear Scarlet,
What do I do? I think a lot but I don't say a word. 
People seem to have a problem with that."

I think I should stop imaging my life and start living reality. But I can't. I'm too scared.
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Today I want to die. Not because of anything in particular or specific, but just because the utter thought of ceasing to exist sounds devastatingly euphoric. To make the noise stop. To stop this stabbing pain in the lowest pit of my stomach that's causing a burning sensation that crawls all over my skin, making me want to peel it off. To stop the guilt that festers every time I take a breath-- an oxygen thief. To stop the constant urge to detonate over anything and everything that dares to love me because in all-- I could never deserve such an honor. Today I want to die. For the longest time, I thought I was just unlucky. That sometimes life doesn't work out for everyone, and for people like me; things just never get better. I had settled into the life of being unlucky, reveled in it, and found comfort in knowing that no matter what; I would just be categorically unlucky. That was until I realized luck had nothing to do with it. It's karma. It's the idea of what goes around comes around, and what goes up must come down. Didn't some philosopher speak to that once? However, it isn't my karma. Well it wasn't at first-- somewhere down the line after all my wrongdoing I'm sure it has switched to mine. But I am the poor soul stuck with my father's karmic retaliation. The karma that he deserves has been thrown against me as some sort of sick cosmic joke-- I'm sure he'd actually celebrate and feast on the fact that once again, he still gets to hurt me even from his grave. Too bad I killed him before he had the chance to see. *Book One in the Karma Duet. Book Two is now in progress, titled: The Karma Study*
Craig of the Dead by Its_Me_Tweek_Tweak
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Hey, you! Yeah, you. Listen up, dude, because I don't have much time. Actually, I have a ton of time, I just don't feel like repeating myself. South Park is infested with zombies. Yeah, you heard me right. Shuffling around, undead, want to eat you zombies. I'm stuck as some kind of leader of a tiny crew of kids. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but everyone else seems to think I do, so I guess we're going with that. In a few days the whole town went from being kinda nuts to completely chaotic. Why do people think I'm a good leader? Why'd all the adults leave? Where's literally half of my grade, they can't all be dead, can they? Why are we not allowed to leave South Park? Do they want us die? How long can we keep on living like this? Most importantly, why couldn't I have just gone with Tweek to the stupid bathroom? Now he's M.I.A. and it's my fault. Anyway, I hope maybe you can find some pleasure in reading this. I mean, I would probably get bored, but whatever floats your boat, dude. Gotta run. Clyde's throwing another fit because someone ate his Hot Pocket (Spoiler Alert, it was me). See ya later, stranger. -Craig **NOTE: the story is not written as journal entries by Craig, I just thought it would be a fun little bit to put as the hook. Apologies if it is misleading.** **ALSO NOTE: the mature content warning is for language, and language only. Well, and I suppose gore and violence, but that depends on what you define as gore and violence**
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BARROW ME A SHELTER

27 parts Complete

-Look at me! Look at my body and don't you dare to lie and say that is normal. People look at me like I was a disease, a contagious disease who gets attached to you, like a virus, travels through your body burns your hope, range shots your dreams, massacre your faith and your mental health. A virus that makes people gossip, whisper about everything. Your clothes size, your stretched skin, the amount of fat that you carry every where you go. You don't know what Is is like to live as I do. This virus eats me alive , makes me crave and urge for food , while I have my face buried in the toilet , throwing up , eating back, exercise and control. You can't love me, you can't love something like me, ans i know. It's a nightmare that crawls up my mind in pure day light. _____________________________________ He needed to met the next sunset in hopes he would starve to death or find the end of the road to a Clift, where his body could be found at the end of the tale that was written to be his life, however his tale couldn't end there, where his fears would be transported to the next life and hunt him for eternity.forced to find a placed after escaping death, at this new journey he found the healing his body, mind, soul needed, so did she.