Story cover for Powerless by FriedSalmon123
Powerless
  • WpView
    Reads 66
  • WpVote
    Votes 4
  • WpPart
    Parts 7
  • WpHistory
    Time 17m
  • WpView
    Reads 66
  • WpVote
    Votes 4
  • WpPart
    Parts 7
  • WpHistory
    Time 17m
Ongoing, First published Aug 27, 2016
Another bland night. I don't get it. How are they so happy? I shake my head and exhale deeply, my warm breath meeting the chilly air and swirling through it like smoke. I take my aim, and line up the shot.  


(Mentions of death, suicide attempts, and alcoholism)
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The Rich Emo: Ouran High School Host Club by graciegreat
21 parts Complete Mature
Loneliness. Depression. Broken. Scared. Devastated. Hopeless. Mournful. Disheartening. Bleak. Joyless. Somber. I have no one. Depression and Loneliness are the only things I feel. My family tries to make me happy, but I just put on a fake smile and cry about it in my room. They act like everything is alright, but everything is not. They KNOW I was devastated about Mom's murder. They KNOW I was heartbroken about Dad's sickness that eventually killed him. That's all I've thought about. Devastation and heartbroken. Just because of those two things. Never in my life I have been this devastating. Dayton, Hayden, Angel, or Monica know how to make me truly happy. Not even my own siblings know how to make me show a real smile. Suicide is all I can think about day to day and I've almost died because of that. DEPRESSION IS A REAL THING. NO ONE KNOWS HOW I FEEL EVERYDAY. NO ONE CAN JUDGE OTHERS ABOUT DEPRESSION OR EVEN MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS A REAL THING. DEPRESSION HAS KILLED PEOPLE. EVERYONE IN MY LIFE JUDGES ME JUST BECAUSE I DON'T SMILE, LAUGH, HUG, OR DO ANYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO. I CUT MYSELF, I CRY, I YELL, I VENT, I PUSH PEOPLE OUT OF MY LIFE. Those are the things people are worried about me. "Go kill yourself and join your parents in hell." They say and I just shrug it off and find a private place to hide and cry it out. "I CAN'T DEAL WITH LIFE ANYMORE!!!!" I say and I use my sharp nails and cut myself then cry some more. A gun is buried within my arm for defense from my dad, but I use it in case I am tired of society. Then that's when I met the Host Club. They saw my sadness and made me a part of it to repay my debt for accidentally breaking a vase. I am now a Host for men to flatter them, but how can normal guys want me to be a Host when I wear lip earrings, eyeliner, chains, and have a gun in my arm? I'm the definition of Hell. Then he made me smile again, something that I thought I would never get back. Happiness.
Blood Moon Princess by IanMFlint
50 parts Complete
It is the autumn equinox, or the death day, the time to contact those that have gone before. Everyone closes their eyes and are silent to commune with the spirits. I had never tried to contact spirits before. But this year I seek my mother. She died this day, fourteen years ago; my birthday. My position in the ceremony is shadow maker. This is a role that I have played since I was old enough to carry the marker staff. It is a rod the length of my forearm tapered at the lower end and holding a clear stone at the top. I hold it high in the air waiting. It catches the light, and its shadow forms an eye directly in the middle of the equinox stones. Spirits surround me. They stop and nod, or at least make eye contact before moving on. "Mother?" She could be an older version of myself. She smiles at me, then, fades as an old presence joins me. This spirit isn't just old; it's ancient. It exudes wisdom and understanding, peace and culture. We celebrate, together, to the music of creation. I seem to know the dance but not as well as she. We are alone only briefly before being joined by another. They dance as if they know each other's every move. I try to keep up. When I falter, they smile, laugh and show me how. There is no passage of time. We dance together for an instant and forever. I shouldn't, but I open my eyes. My shadow, marking the equinox, isn't a shadow, it is a shimmering swirl of blended light. The stone in the top of my staff is flicking with a brilliant white accented by scintillating bands of many colours. I quickly close my eyes but the ancients are gone. We all open our eyes. My shadow falls through the standing stones as it should. And it is black, also, as it should be. They had danced with me.
REVERiE - the man with whiskey by pluieabeille
7 parts Ongoing Mature
"Well, whatever you do, I'm sure it'll be great," he said, his smile lingering. "You deserve to have an amazing time." His words made me blush a little, and I was about to reply when I felt that familiar prickle on the back of my neck. I glanced toward the corner, where Mr. Whiskey Guy was sitting. Only this time, his gaze wasn't just lingering. It was burning. His eyes were locked on Mark, sharp and intense, and for the first time, I felt a real chill. There was something different about him now, something I couldn't quite name, but it sent a ripple of unease through me. I was about to look away, when he slowly shook his head at me, his eyes burning with something that looked closest to anger. It looked like a warning, and I froze, staring back at him, as he tiled his head, watching me intensely. The fuck? "You okay?" Mark asked, his voice pulling me back to the present. "Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Just got a little distracted." Mark nodded, his expression softening as he leaned a little closer. "Well, if you need a break or want to chat, I'm around." He reached out and lightly touched my hand, his fingers brushing mine for just a second, but it was enough to snap me out of the moment. Because across the room, I heard the sharp scrape of a chair against the floor. I looked up, my heart skipping a beat. He was now on his feet, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle twitch. His eyes, dark, angry, met mine for the briefest moment, and I swear the air in the room thickened. He didn't say a word, but it made me feel like I fucked up big time. Without a word, he stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a bang that made everyone in the bar pause for a second.
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The Rich Emo: Ouran High School Host Club

21 parts Complete Mature

Loneliness. Depression. Broken. Scared. Devastated. Hopeless. Mournful. Disheartening. Bleak. Joyless. Somber. I have no one. Depression and Loneliness are the only things I feel. My family tries to make me happy, but I just put on a fake smile and cry about it in my room. They act like everything is alright, but everything is not. They KNOW I was devastated about Mom's murder. They KNOW I was heartbroken about Dad's sickness that eventually killed him. That's all I've thought about. Devastation and heartbroken. Just because of those two things. Never in my life I have been this devastating. Dayton, Hayden, Angel, or Monica know how to make me truly happy. Not even my own siblings know how to make me show a real smile. Suicide is all I can think about day to day and I've almost died because of that. DEPRESSION IS A REAL THING. NO ONE KNOWS HOW I FEEL EVERYDAY. NO ONE CAN JUDGE OTHERS ABOUT DEPRESSION OR EVEN MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS A REAL THING. DEPRESSION HAS KILLED PEOPLE. EVERYONE IN MY LIFE JUDGES ME JUST BECAUSE I DON'T SMILE, LAUGH, HUG, OR DO ANYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO. I CUT MYSELF, I CRY, I YELL, I VENT, I PUSH PEOPLE OUT OF MY LIFE. Those are the things people are worried about me. "Go kill yourself and join your parents in hell." They say and I just shrug it off and find a private place to hide and cry it out. "I CAN'T DEAL WITH LIFE ANYMORE!!!!" I say and I use my sharp nails and cut myself then cry some more. A gun is buried within my arm for defense from my dad, but I use it in case I am tired of society. Then that's when I met the Host Club. They saw my sadness and made me a part of it to repay my debt for accidentally breaking a vase. I am now a Host for men to flatter them, but how can normal guys want me to be a Host when I wear lip earrings, eyeliner, chains, and have a gun in my arm? I'm the definition of Hell. Then he made me smile again, something that I thought I would never get back. Happiness.