The support means the world to me, and thanks to your kind contributions I was able to go and visit my boy in Britain. I'll try and mock up a proper recap blog—though I am notoriously terrible at doing those, I don't think I've ever managed a proper recap blog for any of the various conventions I've gone to over the years. I guess there wasWhere I Fell (Original Fiction) · 9:15pm Nov 8th, 2014
Since our school still thinks we're in seventh grade, we get vocabulary words in English and have to write sentences showing the meaning. While I don't really mind this, since learning is the fucking tightest thing ever, and I love being able to flaunt my large vocabulary around the plebs in my class, sometimes it does get tedious and boring. So last week, when we had Halloween-themed words, our teacher had us write a story. This was mine:
Where I Fell
As I ran down the hill, damp grass clinging to my shoes as I sped towards the bottom, I heard a bloodcurdling shriek. That's when I knew they got her.
I slammed into a headstone when I reached the bottom, my leg splitting open with pain as I tumbled to the ground, rolling sideways. I clutched my bruising shin in agony.
As I pulled myself to my feet, a limp now in my gait, I heard the disembodied voice that had followed us here boom over the land.
"THREE."
I stumbled forward, tears of mixed pain and frustration rolling down my cheeks. I felt as though a cauldron of rage was seething in my chest, threatening to bubble over at any moment. I couldn't shout, though—that's how they find you.
As I walked between the gravestones, a repugnant smell filled my nostrils. I stepped through the chilling mist that hung above the ground, and nearly stumbled right into the source of the stench. A large pit, half full off partially decayed corpses, stood before me. The smell emanated from the pit, wafting up in hideous plumes. I braved a glance downward, and immediately regretted doing so.
There he was, looking just as I had seen him last, not but a half and hour ago. He was rent head to toe, but still recognizable. Just as I had seen him, moaning for help as he was dragged off into the underbrush.
It was truly gruesome, the sight of a former friend like this. I turned away from the macabre scene, limping off in another direction.
There was a distant scream.
"TWO."
I tried to limp faster, but the pain shot up my leg into my back, hammering on my spine. I grunted as I fell forward next to a large statue of an angel, moss laden and weather worn with age.
I looked up from the mud and saw her, pressed up against the angel, evidently hiding from the ones who were undoubtedly coming from my direction, following me. She looked down at me, breathing heavily, and opened her mouth.
"Who—"
I shook my head slowly, grasping the side of the statue's base, pulling myself up. One of them appeared not a moment later, standing there in silence, obscured by the mist even though it was no more than five feet away from us.
We both looked at it, shaking in silence, not even daring to breathe. I expected the specter of Death, scythe in hand, to come and snatch me away. But there was no specter, no wraith, no light, no nothing; just it, standing there, waiting for one of us to make the first move.
It swept up to her, and eviscerated her just as I was no longer able to support myself, falling face first into the moist earth. I heard her gasp softly, followed by the voice that had always come after
"ONE."
It left me where I fell.
Ok...So I need to read the rest of this, if there's more, and to change my pants cause that was really creepy.
2582396 I was thinking about developing it into a full scale story. I just wrote this in the last 15 minutes of my study hall period.
While there was a distinct lack of hooves, this was pretty cool.
I spent too much time wondering about the de-frying process.
Intense! I made my two page horror story based on Frankenstein for English, so much.
Ooh, yeah. We still do that too. On a similar subject here's something "scary" I once wrote:
The Kid Who Was Swallowed By A Couch
Jimmy Williams was a twelve year old boy. He had no idea about the events about to transpire that day. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon and Jimmy was bored just like any other twelve year old boy who was cooped up inside on a Saturday. His parents had left the house to go to the supermarket, he was home alone with nothing to do. His eyes were caught by the crimson leather couch his parents had found outside the abandoned house four blocks down the suburban street on which he resided.
Without a second thought, he sat down on the couch and flipped on the TV, searching channels for cartoons and other television programming a twelve year old boy might find entertaining, when suddenly he was hit by a sudden wave of lethargy and he slowly started to slouch in his seat. He then noticed that the change in his pocket had fallen into the gap between the cushions. While five dollars might not seem like much to an adult, to a twelve year old, its a small fortune.
His hand dove in between the gap for his lost treasure. But the inside of the couch was empty, hollow even! Weirded out, he attempted to retract his appendage when he noticed: his hand was stuck. Wait! Not only stuck but being pulled in by some sort of invisible force. His lethargic state wasn’t helping with his endeavors to break free.
"Help me! Help me!" he cried, "My couch is trying to eat me!"
Unfortunately, his cries and pleas for help were met with silence. His parents weren’t home and his voice wasn’t loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Not to mention the fact that no one could possibly take a person screaming to be saved from man-eating furniture seriously.
Slowly the cries for help turned into “Mmf, mmf!” as the couch had engulfed poor Jimmy’s head. When his parents got home, the only part of Jimmy’s body that hadn’t become couch food yet was his right foot, hanging out between the cushions. His mother dropped her grocery bags and screamed and his father tried to pull Jimmy out of the couch by his foot, but it was no use: the couch was too powerful. Poor Jimmy was a goner.
"Dammit Frank!" his mother shouted, "I told you not to pick up that couch and see what happened?"
"How was I supposed to know the couch was cursed?!?" yelled his father.
After the events of that Saturday, Jimmy’s parents threw out the couch, agreeing to never speak of it again. No one knows where the couch is now but rumor has it: It’s still out there, seeking out foolish individuals to make its prey.
We do not have to write sentences to show the meaning of vocabulary words!
Cool story, though. You should continue it.
...Damn.
Very nice. 
2582443 why is it that luckless little children are always named Jimmy?
I use that name too for when i need a buttmonkey of a little kid to thrash around
2582574 you know. I never thought of that. And the awkward nerdy kid is always Edgar.
So... What was your word?
Damn. This.... This is perfection.
2582791 Words
Bloodcurdling
Cauldron
Disembodied
Repugnant
Seethe
Macabre
Wraith
Scythe
Gruesome
I was supposed to include Fiend, but you know me, always living on the edge, pushing the envelope
2582810 Damn! Where'd you get that picture from!? I so totally want it!!!
2582830 not bad! Not bad at all! However it lacks... something... Probably a continuation!!!
2582929 I just went on google images a couple days ago and looked up "Pinkamena cute". It was just the second or third row down, so it shouldn't take you too long to find it.
2583162 Yay! :-D
No joke, can I make this into a short film? I'm in film school and me and friends make short films literally all the time, I can link you one if you want. I would give you credit as the writer of course.
2583626 I would be honored! Credit is all I ask for, I'd love to see what you do with it.
"Do you, like, read a dictionary everyday or something.. xDD?"
2584536 I get asked this on multiple occasions every few weeks, and it kills me inside
sorry I advanced my vocabulary beyond a 4th grader's
2584561
My personal favorite,
"STOP USING WORDS THAT I DON'T EVEN KNOW THE MEANING OF!"
It's like these faggots enjoy being literary casuals.
2584565 "You speak like an English gentleman, Elijah."
-Some dumb high school girls when I was in 8th grade
I don't know if they were trying to be endearing or whatever, but jesus fuck
it was so annoying
they treated me like some sort of cute toy
2584575
>implying anyone in 8th grade has the empathic capacity to not see their peers as anything other than interactive toys
I remember one time in 5th grade, we briefly assessed a typical fictional situation where some girl had to choose between her dog and a family member to save in a fire, etc. At the end, the teacher asked openly, "So, in short, what have we done?" So I replied, "We assessed the morality behind the decision?"
Everyone burst out laughing. I don't know why. Perhaps they associated "morality" with "moron"? Or maybe they thought I was trying to be a pre-school know-it-all. Regardless, it was inappropriate.
2584606 no, they just saw you as a tryhard moralfag and were all laughing at your plebity
2584632
They heard me talk like that all the time. It was hardly a new thing to witness, otherwise it would have been obvious that that was the case.
Also, there was nothing moralfaggy or tryhard about it. The teacher asked us what we had done and I worded it succinctly. Clearly they were reacting from their primal sense of verbal inferiority.
febora dip
What, is our protagonist not worthy enough to be killed like the rest of them?
How rude of those monsters.