Lonely House ~Short~
- Reads 14
- Votes 2
- Parts 1
Complete Sat, Nov 12, 2016<5 mins
Alone in a vacant house
You aren't really living
You see things that aren't truly there, but you continue to still believe they sit there so.
Listen, and feel as if you yourself are driving to madness
Your own madness, fore each mad is different.
Yours may be a shade of pink, or crimson red. Your madness could be the color of the yellow sun.
Sorry, getting distracted.
It happens a lot when your alone
In a vacant house
You aren't really living.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
Desolate
For those who belong nowhere, those who walk the face of the earth on their own, carrying their hearts in their palms, holding everyone together while they dissolve into air. So many souls are homeless, may it be their home. May they find peace in knowing they are not alone, if not, at least they won't feel as stray as I once did. The word is haunted. Not by ghosts. By a maybe. By the soft echo of a woman who once lit his path out of darkness. A woman who no longer remembers his name... But who still lives inside every choice he makes. He was not made to follow the rules. He was made to make them. Where a match may light a room, A flame like him sets a whole world ablaze. In this story, Truth wears a mask, and order is just chaos in disguise. His world, at last, reveals its true face, when he sets it on fire.
Quarantine
The glow to the room. Its green. I have been quarantined inside my own home. Nobody has told me why, and I can't see anything outside of my bedroom window. The tarp is covering my entire house. After hearing the footsteps downstairs, I know I'm not alone.Complete
Bedroom Whispers
The bedroom holds sacred territory for me. The bed, its altar. One upon which I've offered sacrifices, so many to count and recall. One upon which I currently lay as I once more pay my dues, in taps and clicks. I miss the days when the gods were content with the strokes and curves of the fluid dispenser. They seemed to have joined the fast-lane train, and thus demand new meals. While I lay down and hit the keys with a mystic rhythmic sway, I hear the sounds as they hit my ears. No. They're not forceful. Not now, at least. Like music from the slow strumming of a guitar, these sounds bring messages. And memories. And musings. And a medley, sometimes. And so it is, that I'm made to scribe. For when gods speak, their words are immortal. Oh. Wait. They're just thoughts. I thought as much.Complete
Beneath the Shadowlanders
We knew something wasn't right from the moment we awoke. It was like something was missing - a part of our very souls - and we couldn't sense the deficiency, no matter how hard we tried. A hundred million eyes adjusted to the dark all at once, all surprised to be awakened so soon. We ran through our checklists of limbs and senses, drawing ourselves out of our dreams piece by piece. Some went back to sleep, unaware, unbothered, too tired to notice the difference. Some lay in bed, too anxious to stand until the light of dawn crept through their windows at last, and they were sure the monsters in their closets had gone back to sleep. Some leapt from their slumbers, more keenly aware than others that the missing pieces were important. But we didn't know. We couldn't have. Not until we found ourselves standing in the light and discovered: We no longer had shadows.Complete
The Weird Insights of a Scobberlotcher
Seeing the light? Sounds alright. Scales falling from the eyes and all that. A little visit from a revelation. But sometimes the light of a revelation doesn't live up to its advance billing. Sometimes it's not an epiphany at all. The bright burst of an unexpected truth. No, sometimes it's just depressing. Really depressing. And persistent. Especially when the light just keeps flashing on and off. A red light. In a really weird place. "At first I didn't know what to think or do that involved being rational. I did have two distinct, initial emotional reactions, though. First, I was glad I was alone. Second, this seemed a frightening confirmation that I actually had gone mad." This is the story of a man who makes a shocking discovery. He's been afflicted by a very modern disease with no known cure. Until a fortuneteller comes along and changes his mind. Literally. With a large, heavy object . Full of cigarette butts.Complete
Greeting Insanity
I find comfort in the colors of the world That's where the "doctors" have it wrong Sticking people like me In rooms adorned only with Plain Crisp White Walls White room White bed White toiletries White necessities It's vile It's cruel And it makes them seem a fool Placing me in a cell of plastic A cubical of my own destruction The world fades by Repeating Hazy Just because I'm what they call Crazy I see white White room White bed White toiletries White necessities It's stereotypical It's defective It feels Repetitive They first discover my "condition" A problem to them When I flung a can of paint Screaming My throat bled Ear piercing Agony ricocheting off the Plain Crisp White Walls As I released the inner me Congratulations On greeting my insanityComplete
Whisper of Silence |✓
Trapped. Surrounded on all sides by an overpowering barrier visible only to you. A barrier consisting of your thoughts, your dreams, your hopes, separating you from the rest of the world. Thoughts struggling to escape, the memories vivid in your head. You're trying to push back the flood of emotion, trying to break down that wall that's separating you from the judgement that awaits you at the other side. Your fears captivate you and morph you into a new person entirely. Surrounded on all sides and breaking into cold perspiration. Enveloping you is that same fear, gripping at your heart. You stand still hoping for the storm to back down, hoping for another chance. Sooner or later you're faced with reality and you'll know there's no turning back. All that remains is a whisper of silence.Complete
Untreated
This is the story of a sick, sick mind. The virus of trauma has infested the brain, deteriorating their body from the inside out. Stuck in an endless loop of pain and suffering, they can't seem to make any of it stop. Nor, find the root of it all. This is the story of a patient with psychosis. Stronger than even the highest warden can reach. The cure for this disease is unknown. The pain is Indescribable . And the effects are unimaginable. From hallucinations, to murder, this patient can never be fixed by a doctor. And, perhaps, not even by death. Captivated by lonesome, insanity welcomes you. When you hear the static, cover your eyes. When your neck is cold, don't turn around. And if you ever feel alone, run. I hope you are uncomfortable.Complete
Life Is A Nightmare
What happens when you turn the corner and you see a pair of yellow eyes gleaming out at you from the dark ally in front of you? What do you do then? Run? Scream? Or tell yourself it's just a nightmare? * WARNING * INCLUDES: - MENTAL ILLNESS (DEPRESSION, ECT...) - THE MENTION OF SUPERNATURAL BEINGS THIS IS A SHORT BOOK AND WILL BE COMPLETED WITHIN A 7 CHAPTER RANGE.Complete
Unintentional Passion
Geovanni Have you ever gotten that feeling that somebody was watching you? And that person who was watching you wasn't normal. I have felt that way all of my life; but then again I felt as if I went missing nobody would even notice or care I was gone. I am 23 and just graduated from college. I was there an extra year because I had to take care of my family. I had to transfer back into the city and pick up the extra work because my mom died, and my dad became addicted to anything that would numb his pain. My little sister and brother would be lost without me here. But now I could care less. A cold breeze blew through my window waking me up from my thoughts. I looked over in the corner and saw that nothing was there. It was odd because I felt like someone well more like something was there. It had to be my imagination getting the best of me. I laid back in my bed and closed my eyes. Then all of a sudden I got the feeling I wasn't alone. But the really strange thing is that even if there was someone in here with me I felt safe. Jordan. I watched her as she slept. In fact I have been watching her since she was born. I have waited half a century to find that one person. I think I have finally settled on her. She was my choice. I know. After being in as many relationships as I have you know things. I felt my fangs tingle. Her blood smelled so sweet. Her heartbeat was steady and strong. I took my tongue and ran it across my fang. The temptation to indulge in her red liquid was far too strong. I let out a low growl and jumped out her window. I was ready for a hunt. "Did you see her Jordan?" "Yes, and tomorrow night you will turn her," "Why do I have to turn her?" "Ezra, you know once you turn them, they hate you," "I didn't hate pops," "You wanted to join though," "True, but first see if she wants to be turn before you jump to conclusions," I nodded my head, before me and Ezra took off to find some fresh blood for the night.
For those who belong nowhere, those who walk the face of the earth on their own, carrying their hearts in their palms, holding everyone together while they dissolve into air. So many souls are homeless, may it be their home. May they find peace in knowing they are not alone, if not, at least they won't feel as stray as I once did. The word is haunted. Not by ghosts. By a maybe. By the soft echo of a woman who once lit his path out of darkness. A woman who no longer remembers his name... But who still lives inside every choice he makes. He was not made to follow the rules. He was made to make them. Where a match may light a room, A flame like him sets a whole world ablaze. In this story, Truth wears a mask, and order is just chaos in disguise. His world, at last, reveals its true face, when he sets it on fire.
More detailsContent Guidelines