the office

nope; i was a proud percussionist. (concussionist as my teacher called us). did 2 years of it. i did piano when from when i was 4 to 6 too, so i guess you could really say i did 4 years of percussion.

October 24th, 2019
10:45 PM
Cahawba, Alabama

You arrive in one of America's most famous ghost towns for a college research project. You're alone, of course- that's how you always did your work. It's nighttime, your most favorite time of the day. You're stationed in an abandoned church, a place where paranormal entities are reported to have been spotted roaming around. You don't believe in the paranormal- you're just there to stay for the week and to debunk the rumors. Absurd, as you call them. Human imagination may be amazing but ghosts? Creatures of the night? Ha!

You sit down on one of the moth-eaten sofas, a puff of dust erupting into the air around you. The scent of mildew assaults your nose, and you scrunch your face in disgust. How will you survive a week in these conditions? With all the money they have, the city hall certainly could do work in refurbishing old buildings! Disgruntled with the disgustingness of the room you're in, you set your bags down and prepare your equipment. Yeah, equipment; voice recorders, night vision goggles, a security system... if you're going to prove people wrong, you're going to do it in style.

11:45 PM

It's been one hour since you've arrived to the church. You finished setting up a long while ago and have been spending the past 30 minutes attempting to relax on the damp, disgusting fabric beneath you. You hear rustling outside. Smirking, you grab your camera and go out to investigate.

You step over the church threshold and notice a fog has descended around the forest. You admit that's weird. It hasn't rained in a while. You turn around to re-enter the church, only to hear a shriek from within the forest. You blanch. Tha'ts definitely not normal. You take a breath and stride over to the tree line, preparing yourself to enter.

12:13 AM

You enter the forest, the leaves crunching beneath your boots. You listen intently for any sound, your eyes roving your surroundings. You hear rustling nearby. You spin around only to spot a small, black cat. It mewls at you sweetly. You grin and reach down to give it a scratch behind the ears. It purrs. You see a small note folded in its collar and take it. It's two, small pieces of paper. One's a photo. You view it.

It depicts a young woman with elegant curls sprawling over her shoulders, her sharp jaw set as she stared up at you. She exuded a powerful aura and you could tell she was a monarch. Despite being black and white, you could see the freckles covering her face and her long curled lashes. Atop her head sat a crown of iron, a silver gem falling over her illustrated forehead. She wore a gorgeous wedding gown, and it was obvious it was the day of her marriage. The scariest part, however, was the silk sheath hiding her mouth from view and her eyes which glowed a pure white. In the bottom left corner of the image, you saw a tiny scrawled. ''Avania the Beloved'', it read.

Okay... definitely a creepy photo there. You toss it aside and unfold the poem. You read;

Caution to those who enter without heed
For what you see may not be what you seek
Mysterious is the forest when shrouded in dark
Fear, you should what lurks in this bark
October is the month to prepare for the worst
Assort into groups those who venture through this timber
Safe you will be from the spirit of the embers
Her name instills fear in the hearts of those here
We've abandoned this town so she could rule without sneer
She returns from her sleep when her home has been disturbed
Leave now before she's encountered
Run, we beg you, escape with your life
The Beloved has turned on us
She's given in to her strife
We hope this warning reaches you in time
Her name is . . . . . .
A queen whose no longer divine
We bid you good luck, stranger
We pray you survive

You finish reading, your brow furrowed. What sense is giving you a warning if they don't give you the name of who you should avoid? You put two and two together. The photo was of a woman named Avania, and she had the title 'The Beloved'. Was that her? Regardless, it was probably a prank. A bunch of nonsense, you tell yourself. No sense worrying. You crumple the note in your fist and throw it to the ground. Cool and all, but you have more important things to worry about. And that's when you hear it- another shriek, this time higher. It seems more urgent. It sounds like a woman. You reach down to give the cat one last pat, only to find it gone. You didn't notice it leave. You shrug it off and press on.

12:45 AM

The more you walk through the trees, the more frequent the screams become. You're beginning to get annoyed. Why couldn't whoever it was shut up already? They've done so much screaming that their throat MUST be scratched! You grumble under your breath about the stupidity of children and the immaturity of pranks before you freeze. You raise your head slowly and realize you're deep within the forest now. You can't hear anything. You can't see the sky. All you can see are the thinned tree bases and the expanse of thick fog wafting over the ground. You scramble to pull out your cell phone only to find it dead. You gulp. And then you hear it. A voice.

''Help. . . Please. . . Help me. . .''

It's coming from within an old dilapidated shack. You had medical training. You got this. You can help them! You rush forward, not paying in mind the subtle temperature drop the closer you get to the doorway of the old shack. You duck beneath the vines covering the door and enter. Everything seems normal... where's the person at?

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

You feel something drop onto your forehead. Its freezing cold. You raise a trembling hand to your forehead and slide it across the liquid. It's too dark to see anything so you press the tips of your fingers to your tongue, your taste buds automatically detecting the stale, metallic tang of blood. You cringe. But.. if that's blood... where's the body...?

You hesitate before steadily raising your head to the ceiling. That's when you see it. A body. Impaled horizontally on a broken support beam like a pig on a roast. Blood dripping from a wound in the chest. Bile rises in your throat, the sight is gruesome. Fear overtakes you and you turn to leave, but you hear a rustling behind you.

''Help. . . Please.''

The voice from before. Except it doesn't sound... natural. It's melodic, almost unearthly. It sends a shiver down your spine. You hear them, whoever or whatever it was, moving behind you. It doesn't sound like it has feet. It sounds like its... gliding. Your body is screaming for you to move, to run. You remember the note, ''Run, we beg you, escape with your life'', but you can't. You can't move. You close your eyes tightly as you feel the creature brush against you, and flinch as you feel a soft limb brush your face. You prepare for death but it doesn't do anything. In fact, it starts.. humming. You feel it scan your face, and then it speaks.

''Such a beautiful young soul, but filled such horrid envy. Whatever happened to you?''

It sounds sad. It caresses your cheek, and you feel it has only three long, spindly fingers. You make no movement or sign you acknowledge it. This seems to be the wrong move as it grasps your jaw tightly, forcing your head up.

''Look at me when I speak to you, human.''

Its voice is sharp, commanding. You feel inclined to do as it says. And when you finally open your eyes, you wish you hadn't.

For the thing in front of you isn't a creature.

It's something much, much worse.

You let out a shriek of horror.

Towering above you is a demonic, twisted form of the lady in the photograph. Her lank, greasy hair falling over her face, the once elegant curls now a matted mess tangled with dirt, sweat, and blood. The crown on her head stuck between a pair of bony antlers which scrape against the ceiling. She's bent over you, her flesh a pallid grey which stretches over her gaunt face, her mouth wide open in a silent scream. The scent is unreal, a dead, rotting smell that assaults your nostrils and leaves you gagging. Her eyes bore into yours, staring without seeing, endless windows of glowing white. And her body... a broken, cracked ribcage fit over her midsection, her torn wedding dress caked in filth and dirt from centuries unwashed. But the worst of all was the space where her legs should be; nothing but a triangular boned structure shrouded in darkness, bloody flesh hanging off in strips. She presses one long, clawed finger- if you could call it that- to the gaping hole that should be her mouth. The grip on your jaw moves down to your neck and in one simple movement twists it, but you manage to snap a photograph of the creature seconds before. You drop to the floor in a broken heap as your world turns black, your last sight the unholy creature hovering over you. But at least there's proof now.. proof of the very thing you came here to debunk.

edit* - I suck at poems I'm so sorry.
also I've never written in second person before so yeah-

i wanna do this but people are gonna get mad : ' )

i love u

thats nice

i think it's Sled.
the body was laying on a toboggan.
what's a toboggan?
a sled.

i love u girlie
good to see you again

pls this is fun to read

yiiiikes

the artist is jonathan green

well this is going to be fun

i read this

i normally ask other people for their input in situations like this due to the fact that some people may not like you and won't agree with what you say because of their feelings towards you.

i read all of this

i guess im good at most of these aside from 2- mercy and forgiveness. I often let my emotions take over whenever I'm upset and stuff and whenever I feel someone's done me wrong I'm very picky on forgiving them because I remind myself of what they've done and ask myself if it's worth letting them have a second chance. But I'm working on that so yeah.

same things you do minus the baby crying. also i find people trying to insult me hilarious because they try so hard and they fail so miserably

(im a very dark person)