Story cover for DARYL DIXON by LunarStire
DARYL DIXON
  • WpView
    Leituras 18
  • WpVote
    Votos 1
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 2
  • WpHistory
    Tempo 42m
  • WpView
    Leituras 18
  • WpVote
    Votos 1
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 2
  • WpHistory
    Tempo 42m
Em andamento, Primeira publicação em fev 22, 2023
Maduro
very experimental story-



The water trickles and falls along the stream line. The moss is thick and full with small flowers and mushrooms. Sunlight beams from the trees canopies. 

"You're still here." 

My thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice. 

"We are still here." 

My shoulder is tugged a bit. The feeling of hair tickling my neck. Along with a small head resting against mine. 

This comfort helps to silence the pain and loss I'm stuffing deep inside. 

The sound of the stream echos through the forests leaves. 



"Yeah, we are.."
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„The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?", she asked, the sound of her voice strained, as if she hadn't been talking for a long time. The boy sat next to her, staring forward into the leaving sun. He didn't even look at the young woman when she spoke. Yet still he could feel himself, only a small part of himself, longing to hear more of her voice. It used to calm him down, singing soft lullabies whenever nightmares haunted him, or telling stories to him and his brother. It was the only comfort he could rely on. And he ended it before it could poison him. Silence filled the vast empty space. Only a single Rowan tree swayed in the non existent wind, its branches reaching down where the two figures sat, sheltering them from any harm that may come their way. It was time to leave this place again. He couldn't stay here for long. He hugged his knees tight, unconsciously swaying back and forth as he did so. Maybe, if he hugged himself hard enough, he could stay here and listen to one of her stories again? Just one short story. His efforts were in vain. He realized that when his hands and feet started to disappear, just like they have done thousands of times before. There was no way things could continue the way they were now. He knew he had to stop, but a selfish part of him was still holding onto that hope that everything would be okay once he opened his eyes. „Auntie,", he said, preparing his next words. „I... really prefer sunrises." 0101011101101111011100100110110001100100011100000110110001100101011000010111001101100101011100110110000101110110011001010110110101100101
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im gna be honest this is a huge work in progress, but essentially After a major traumatic event in Griffen Westons life sends him spiraling into a life he never expected, things seem beyond fixing. He had never felt so empty. But grief has a certain smell. It's a scent that attracts a certain kind of creature when you head out into the woods. His dreams tell him tales before he sees them. He watches this mysterious wisp of white hair and green cloth dart about the moss to evade him. The scent of patchouli and lavender with the pugent musk of sulfur harrasses him into submitting into this feeble attempt at following her. Or It. Whoever this person may be, they heard him calling out. They knew what he needed. He never expected to find himself so enamored with something so unique. But he didnt know how to find a way to stay away from this curiosity. TW for death, grief, suicidal ideation/tendencies later on, graphic descriptions of injury, self harm, and other possible dark themes i will brush up on. edit: wattpad deformated everything i promise it looked pretty at one point