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Morlandus

Chilling Scenes

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Procurator

Right! In the spirit of a thread on the WOD forum from WW, I'm starting this little thread here, so you can get a feel for the new World of Darkness. It involves you thinking up scenes, and putting them here that you believe would fit in the World of Darkness. Don't make them longer than a couple of paragraphs, but try to build a scene with a overlaying feeling of general spooklyiousness. (Yes, that's a word damn it 'cause I just made it up!)

As the WW forums are more than a bit sluggish at the moment, I'm not even going to attempt to try and link to it.

I. You’re riding the train on the way home, and you see that there are 3 people in the cabin with you. An old man, a young lady, and middle aged businessman. The old man is sitting by the businessman. The lights on the train go out, and you can hear one of the inter-train doors opening and closing. When the lights come back on, the businessman is gone, and the old guy is sitting behind the young lady. Your stomach turns, as you almost feel something bad about to happen.. The lights go off once more, and the door opens, yet again. When the lights come back on, you can see the foot of the young woman hanging out of the door, between the carriages. The old man is sitting across from you, smiling.

II. You’re a manager of a warehouse, and you’re locking up for the night. Everything is now locked, and you leave. As you drive away, you see that you left a section of lights on, in an office next to yours. Annoyed, you go back in, and shut them off. As you go back outside, just as a precaution, you glance over, and see them on again. Thinking that an employee is now messing around, you stomp back into the warehouse, turning on lights to find your way back to the office. Once there, you look around in the office, and find nothing out of place. You turn off the light switch, only to see all the lights in the warehouse blow out. After shielding yourself from the glass and sparks, you turn around because the light in the office is fading on and off. A voice saying “I wish you would stop turning my light off….” Brings your attention to a man who died there over a year ago sitting in the office chair, glaring at you; his broken neck is still hanging to one side where a TV fell on him.

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Procurator

III. You're done typing a report up for your boss, and you print it off. The printer doesn't work at first, so you send the info again. It's almost closing time, so you rush it to your boss, and he takes one look at it, and laughs. Handing it back to you he asks what the deal is. You look and see that it's printed backward. The next day, you resign yourself to typing it all over again, as your computer has had an unfortunate 'accident', and everything was wiped off. After you're done, you print it again, only to see that it's done the same bloody thing! You rush back to the computer, and as you begin to look through the files, you say to yourself "Why can't this work right?" The screen flashes blank, and the printer starts printing a piece of paper. The words read, "Because I don't want you to, that's why".

IV. You're the last one in the office, doing overtime on a presentation for tomorrow. You look up to see a cleaner walking down the hallway with his bin trolley. You glance back down to your work, but your head shoots up as you swore you saw an arm sticking out of his bin. You see him standing in front of the trolley, pulling the glove off of his broom handle, and you chuckle to yourself for thinking that its shadow was an arm. As he moves around a desk and comes closer, you can see a bloody hand sticking out of the bin, and he's gripping that wooden handle really, really hard…

Come on people, bring your own!

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Donor

1-Tonight you got lucky. You went to the bar looking for a one night stand and got more than you bargained for. Two exquisite beauties came back with you and did things you never thought possible. After what seemed like hours of intense sex, one of them goes out of the room to get something to drink. You continue fooling around with the other one when she suddenly bites you in a way you thought was possible in stories. When you open your eyes, you see the other girl has come back, with something glittering in the darkness in her hands, and it wasn't glass...

2-You're working night shifts again. Damn people always choose to die and get buried around the same time, so you have to double your work ethic in order to have some food on the table and a few paid vacation weeks. Tonight however really is a bad night. It was a warm day, but tonight is really cold, and there are those strange noises. Not to mention the unnerving feeling that there's someone watching you. Not to mention that at one point, you thought you saw a shadow appear from behind you, even though no one's there.

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Here are a couple that I have mentioned in the past

V. You meet the women of your dreams. She is perfect in every way. Her eyes, her lips and her smile are the embodiment of physical perfection. The sole exception is this ugly black velvet choker that she wears around her neck constantly. When you ask her about it, she says it’s an heirloom and she never takes it off. You tell her that it is ugly and that she should take it off. She answers, “If I take it off, you’ll be sorry.” Even on the day of your wedding, she still wore it. That black thing around her neck stands out in stark contrast amongst the glowing white halo that is your bride. Even after the priest told you that you could kiss her, you still couldn’t keep your eyes off it. You couldn’t be happy to be married to the woman of your dreams. This snake-like thing around her neck had become the bane of your existence. So that night, after your newly wed wife fell asleep, you reached for a pair of scissors that you tucked underneath the pillow. Carefully slipping the shears around the choker you cut the blasted thing. Your wife’s head detaches from its shoulders and rolls off the body. Her eyes snap wide open and look directly at you. “I told you, you’d be sorry.” She says.

VI. Your roommate comes home one day with this large antique-style oval shaped mirror. She says she bought it for her bedroom. You congratulate her on the fine purchase and help her set it up on the bedroom wall. She is very pleased with it. During the week you notice that your roommate spends a lot of time in front of it. She is always preening herself, or changing in front of it. You figure that she is just enjoying her new purchase. After a month however, you notice that she takes an extraordinarily amount of time getting ready in the morning. She spends about three quarters of her time in front of that damn mirror. Even after you arrive home from work, you find that she has come home early and is staring at her reflection in the mirror. One night you are awaked to the sound of voices coming from the bedroom. At first you think it is just her but later distinctly hear the voice of another. When you ask her about it, she says that you are mistaken and that she was alone during the night. Then one morning you find her bedroom door closed. You knock on the door and ask if she is alright, she replies that she is sick and doesn’t want to come out. This continues for a week. You continue to strange voices coming from her bedroom and when you knock she always replies that she is sick and she doesn’t want to open the door. You then get concerned when her boss calls. Your roommate hasn’t been to work in over a two weeks! Concerned over how the rent is going to be paid you knock on her door demanding to see her. There is no answer, so you open the door. The bedroom is completely empty. Everything is gone, including the light fixture and the curtain rod. There is no sign of your roommate. The room is completely vacant except for that damned mirror, which now has a crack in it.

--The Draconian Garden Gnome

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VII. Your wife is about to give birth.

You then receive a call from your mother, who has been unreachable for the past 9 months, asking what the news is. You mention the special occasion.

Then she tells you that you had an accident as a child that made you sterile ever since you were 5. You see the doctor come out and call for you. He says you have a son.

A nurse screams.

She runs out. Says something about a forked tongue.

You see her faint.

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Donor

You wake in the middle of the night, its cold and dark your room is only illuminated by the light from the moon, you feel a strange sensation in your stomache, the kind you get when you ride over a small hill in a car, that kind of dropping sensation so you get up assuming its hunger, you move down the stairs feeling the cold handrail and cold floor, same old same old you reach the fridge and open it taking a drink you place the carton back in the fridge, you then walk back to the stairs and place your hands on the cold handrail and feel the cold floor, you move halfway up and feel something warm and wet, you raise it to you nose and smell it.... it smells coppery, you check your nose for blood but there isn't any, thats when you hear the noise from outside, a voice, a voice on a megaphone "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP......WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED" you then look down at your hand and see a bloody dripping knife, silhoetted by the moonlight, you also see tissue and hair on the blade, you run upstairs and run to where your door should be, its not there infact this isn't your house..... you open the first door and see a mutilated woman lying on the bed, her head hanging by threads of tissue with her eyes looking right at you, you turn and bolt into the open bathroom, you wash your face and look in the mirror..... the reflection you see, isn't you, the door smashes in and the police flood inside.

You wake screaming, feeling the sheets around you, you laugh and rub your eyes realising the whole thing was a dream, you sit up and realise your looking at jail bars, the guard says "theres a visitor for you you sick SOB" when you see the visitor you realise..... its you, the man smiles and then turns walking away laughing.

Regards

Illispher

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Procurator

Here it is! I've been looking for this post. Ok people, we need to keep this thing going. We have plenty of material to go on now, so keep adding your chilling images!

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I don't have a chance in hell of running with most of you guys (and the posters in the WW forum thread for that matter), but what the hey.

While digging a pool in your backyard, contractors unearth an ancient garbage pit used by some long forgotten former resident of your house. Among the items of antique refuse are thousands of human teeth.

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Donor

Momma said she was going to be home. Why isn't she? It's dark! I'm afraid! I wish papa was here. He could make things better. He always did for mother. What's that noise? A key turning? Or is that the wind? Where's teddy? I want my mama! Why are things so quiet?

Is it ever going to be daylight again? I'm afraid of the night. I want my mama!

A child's wail could be heard in the dark, closed up house.

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Curator

Some slightly tongue in cheek horrors:

- Over the phone: "What do you mean, last descendant of James Magnus? So I inherit his house in where?"

- "Okay, I know you're the Human Torch, and it's too bad you just got busted by the cops for arson and all, and you're a really good kid, but I gotta tell ya ... ya still gotta watch your ass in the showers."

- You wake up in New Jersey. Nuff said.

- "Stop the damn larp. White Wolf just issued this new policy ..."

They'll do until I can think of something suitably chilling.

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You are sitting at a pub with a few of your friends, just having a beer and relaxing in a friendly surrounding. When the girl who is tending the bar that night is coming to collect your empty glasses you notice that she has an elaborate number 9 tatooed on the inside of her wrist. It's kind of strange, why the number nine? You don't think very much of it and go home.
A week later, when you meet one of those friends in the street you bring up the subject of meeting again at the pub some time. Your friend shakes his head and says that it wouldn't feel right without ol' Sam. When asking about Sam you're told that he hasn't been seen by anyone since that night in the pub, didn't you know? You didn't.
The very same night however, your doorbell rings. Standing there before you is Sam, looking just the way he was when you saw him last. Exactly the same way in fact. He says he wants to show you something. A bit spooked you back away but he grabs your arm with the strenght of a wild animal. When he does you notice that he has a number 10 tatooed on his wrist.

The first part has actually happened. Why would anyone tatoo a number 9 on her wrist?

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Curator

The old abandoned school.

This place has been empty since you can remember. A few of the old folks can recall going there when they were kids, but there was this scandal ... or maybe there were deaths involved, or some sort of sickness or maybe drugs ...

Either way, there hasn't been a lesson here for years.

The windows are all boarded up, now, of course, and there's that suspicious black sooty stain on the whitewashed wall of the old Science Block where the rumours have it that the fire was lit that ... well, whatever the rumours said they did to bring the school down all those years ago, nobody's quite sure how it happened.

Inside, the place is almost exactly as they left it. Chairs and tables are still in the classrooms, although they're all over the place, all kicked over and broken up.

The gym's still got the climbing bars ... but the ropes are long gone, the gynmastic equipment's gone or broken up to put in this little bonfire outside in the quad, and there are no textbooks anywhere: just old dirt, inches of dust. broken windowpanes, broken glass panels in all the doors and graffiti.

And yet, even the vandalism and human refuse is old, as if nobody's even come here to get high, get laid or daub gang tags on the walls any more.

And there are the persistent rumours, spread by children in the neighbourhood: the odd lights, late at night, in the corridors: the way the school sometimes looks intact some nights, when the Moon shines down on it, with all the glass back in place in the windows, no graffiti anywhere ...

And there was one boy, whose home backs onto the school. He made those claims, five years ago, that he'd seen somebody walking the corridors the night before his disappearance.

Police say that he'd left a journal entry in his diary that night, vowing he'd break in to the old school, see what was causing the disturbances. Police say they only found one item belonging to him: one bloodstained sock.

The blood wasn't his ...

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It is 11 pm. You are getting ready to go to bed after a long day at work, exhausted. You feel your eyelids getting heavy, and can't wait to drop into bed and fall into a deep, dreamless slumber.

You walk into the bathroom, turn on the shower and undress. The air is cold, and the steaming shower is looks like heaven on earth to you.

As the warm water soothes you, you become acutely aware of every sound in the house. Creaking floorboards. A door rattling slightly in it's frame; from the draft, probably. Probably.

The cold air slithers in underneath the shower curtain and creeps over your toes. you realise that you are purposefully avoiding closing your eyes, or turning your back to the bathroom and the half-open door. Like you are afraid of someone entering while you can't see.

Which is silly, since you are the only one in the house.

You make yourself close you eyes. A chill runs down yor spine, and you get the feeling somebodys watching you. A quick peek reveals an empty bathroom, your clothes in a pile on the floor and a fogged up mirror.

You make yourself close you eyes again, and this time the feeling is stronger. Your toes are freezing from the draft.

You purposefully turn away from the room, and let the shower fill your face with hot water. The feeling of a presence is almost unbearable now, but you make yourself stand perfectly still; water runs down your face, drips off your nose, fills your mouth.

A sound in the room makes you jump and scream. you turn around, eyes wide open and filled with water. It's impossible to make out anything but a dark blur in fron of you, and you blink furiously to get the water out.

The room is empty, except for your clothes in the middle of the floor. Despite of the warm water, you are freezing. And shaking.

When you step out of the shower, the cold air embraces you. You are getting drowsy. Sleepy from the warmth of the water and the sudden cold of the air. All thoughts of sounds and eerie presences are gone, replaced by an overwhelming urge to go to bed.

As you turn on the water in the sink to brush your teeth, you wipe some of the steam off the mirror.

The mirror is positioned oposite the door, and as you dip your head to brush your teeth you catch something in the mirror. A patch of black in the coridoor that looks eerily unfamiliar. Your head whips around, your brow sweating cold, breath short and tight.

Nothing. The doorway and corridoor are empty.

But when you turn back, the patch of darkness is there. Closer this time, nearly in the doorway. It is a man. You can clearly see his face, long and drawn. Large eyes, staring at you.

You scream, and turn around ready to run. But there is nothing there. The corridoor is empty, and thee is no sound save the rasping of your breath. You feel the hair on your arms and in your neck rise, feel the cold air caressing your naked body.

When you finally turn back to the mirror, the man is there; standing in the doorway this time, less that six feet away from you. He is wearing all black, shapeless clothes that swim into each other. His face is long and pale, his eyes large and white and his mouth fixed in a sort of half smile, half frown, and he is staring at you.

You feel cold inside, and you are shivering. You stare into those empty white eyes, and you know he's staring back into yours. you can feel it. You can feel his presence, feel his eyes boring into your neck. You cover your face with your hands. Your breath wont come to you, your eyes fill up with tears, and you are so cold, so cold. You turn around, eyes still covered. When you part your fingers, despite yourself, to look at the mirror like a curious tounge prodding at a sore tooth despite the pain, you can't even scream. There is nothing there. Only the bathroom, the doorway, the coridoor. You stand like this for a long time. You can't tell how long. Five minutes, ten, thirty. You don't know. When you are finally satisfied, when you have convinced yourself that it was a dream, a hallucination, nothing more, you turn back.

And freeze.

He is still there. Right behind you, You can feel him, less than two feet behind you. In the mirror you can study his features, count every wrincle on his drawn-out face.

You stand and stare into the mirror.

You dare not move.

How could you?

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You don't know where the video came from; one day it wasn't there, the next day it was. It should disgust you, but instead it's strangely exciting. It can't be real, but it sure looks it. Whoever made it got some top notch actors; the girl in the handcuffs begging for her life, for instance. The special effects are great, too. All that blood, and just the right color and consistency. Strangest of all, the man in the leather bondage mask with the knife has the same tatoo as you, on the same bicep. Funny, that...

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It was the industrial part of town, and Hell, it wasn't even a long industrial stretch. There was the autobody shop, scrap metal, a random wherehouse... then there was the small white building a bit further back than the rest, with the appealing simple soda machine, right at the side.

And everynight, you walk past it.. after taking the bus home from work. There are no street lights, and no sidewalk... and on the other side of the road? Woods. A dense patch of woods.

Everytime you step past a certain area where the houses end, and the industrial zone begins, you hear scraping footfalls behind you, and no matter how quickly you snap your head around, you never seen the walking apparation... and when you look at the white building, far set, it's the only one with a small foglight outside it's door... and it only flickers when you walk past it. And no matter how appealing that soda machine may be, you stay away from it. Because you know the window beside it has eyes peering out, and the door beside it is likely hiding someone behind it as well, waiting for the fish to take the bait.

More than one person walking along that patch has gone missing.

---

And that's a true story. I used to walk home that way everynight, and I swear, more than once... I saw those eyes, and the apparation out the corners of my eyes.

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She has a family of dolls nestled in the pink frilly edges of her comforter (her only).

She keeps small pieces of tape in a drawer for Sister doll and Brother doll's mouths, because they can never keep quiet when the family plays. She tells them they must because good children are seen and not heard.

She has drawn in marker where the dollmakers forgot to finish.

***

Your son has been dead for two years and he still visits at night.

You will never say anything, because there is nothing you could do to hurt your child born in your pain and your blood and your loneliness.

You stroked his soft baby hair and last night he came home with bits of bone and brain and blood tangled up in his electric blue and green spikes.

He asks and you give because your baby (is dead) needs you. And you can't let go of being the one thing you were ever good at.

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It's not that you mind the new TV. You've even gotten used to the way the screen reflects you silhouetted against the hallway light when you come in and take off your coat at night, though the movement from the corner of your eye made you jump the first few times.

But you really wish it would stop reflecting two people when you're coming home alone.

========

You're walking home from art class and it's dark out. It's a nice night, and as you cross the bridge, you glance down to see shapes drifting in the water--plastic bags, weeds, eddies of mud. A larger shape catches your attention, moving sluggishly downstream, and you start to pick out a shape.

It looks, you're sure, like a man floating a little below the surface of the water. The shape's indistinct enough that you know it could be something else, but in the dark, to your eye, the outline is clear.

It would be a really bad idea to go down under the bridge to see what it really is this time of night.

The newspapers have nothing in the morning.

========

You're at the post office, mailing off your registration to Marcon. There's an old raddled-looking man with a sore on the back of his hand ahead of you in the line, and he buys his stamps and stands at the end of the counter.

As you pass your mail over to the clerk, you see him drawing the stamps across the weeping sore on the back of his hand to moisten them before he affixes them to his envelopes.

(True story, both of those last ones. I'm *sure* I didn't see what I thought I saw, but, you know...)

========

Libra: funny. icon1.gif

Dreamerchel: Jesus Jesus Jesus Christ. Markers have never before been so creepy.

Love and coffee,

Frances

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It was an undeniable truth that Arthur McNeil was distraught. Misery plagued his every waking moment, beating on his psyche until even his ability to express emotion seemed to be broken. Anger had come and gone, and even despair was on its way out... and what remained in the wake of every negative emotion imaginable was a man of this world, but scarcely in it. He sat in the filthy hotel room with the failed attempts to drown his sorrow in alcohol spread across the floor beside his bed: Glass bottles that carried the faint light coming from the muted television set that sent pale blue light flashing in dizzying patterns across the walls. His hands pressed against his unwashed hair and his eyes gazed blankly at the floor in front of him.

Arthur ran over the events of the last week in his mind, attempting to make sense of it all. It began when Arthur was laid off in the middle of a business trip and was forced to dig into his savings in order to return home. His savings were not there, however, and the home he returned to was cleaned out. The first explanation Arthur received was a call from his wife's attorney (paid for by the savings she had lifted from his bank account while he was away) revealing that he was now in the middle of a divorce and was expected to pay child support for his two children who were taken into the full custody of his ex-wife; children that he would never see again. Unable to pay his debts, new and old, Arthur's home and remaining property was repossessed. What little remaining family he had fronted enough money for a few days in a motel room as a way of shutting him up and further indebting him to them.

During daytime hours the telephone rang constantly with collectors eager to steal another piece of Arthur's broken life. The money for food had gone into alcohol and had long since expired. Since then Arthur had spent day and night locked in his hotel room, sometimes flipping idly through the few channels the television received, but mostly staring blankly at the floor wondering how things had come to be this way.

On the third night the television began to talk to him.

"What has become of you, Arthur McNeil?" the news reporter asked.

"Everything is lost," the broken man replied. "My employer has abandoned me, my wife has betrayed me, and my family has turned me out. Alcohol has neither killed me nor soothed me. There is nothing left. Everything is lost."

The man in the television sifted through the papers on his desk, considering. "Well," he said finally, "there is one thing left."

And it was then that the bottom drawer of the dresser the television sat upon slowly opened, revealing the shape of a handgun, perhaps a possession of a previous tenant. Arthur dumbly walked across the room and picked up the gun. The metal object was heavy, sturdy, and reassuring in his hand. Arthur's questioning eyes moved to the news reporter whose own eyes were trained on the gun.

"You now have the means to make things right, Arthur McNeil."

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Your in the men's room at a local fast food joint & you've finished your burger & soda. Nature calls & you answer. The bathroom is empty. There isn't a sound in the bathroom at all & its slightly cold. As you stop infront of the urinal to do your business the room grows colder still. Theres a sound from the stall next to you. Then a shuttered weeping & the sound of a man in pain. As you look through the gap in the stall something wet hits your foot. Its a large pool of blood & inside the stall something shrivelled sits on a man's chest. It looks at you with a smile. Then winks & disappears in the blink of an eye leaving you looking at the torn & bleeding remains of your own corpse. Just at that moment you remember that your fly is still unzipped. Theres a warm trickle on your neck.

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You heard it again.

That sound. That whining, mewling noise. That damn animal's been down in the heating below the house for two days now, making that pitiful squeal just often enough to remind you he's there. You thought he'd have gotten loose by now, but no...

Weren't pets useful once? They could hunt and take care of themselves, but now, they need you for everything. Eating only when fed, doing their business where they sit, completely ignoring you when you want something but you'd better be there when they need attention. Stupid animals.

It's too much effort to go get it out. You sigh and toss some food down the grate, knowing the dumb beast should be able to smell it and find it. When it does, you can just reach in and grab him. Hmph. It'll be grateful then, won't it!

Why did you ever have a baby, anyway?

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Donor

1. You are walking home one day, when a deep, sensuous voice says "I'm watching you." You look around and see a large man watching his son play. You think nothing of it.

The next day, locking up after work, you think you hear the same voice say "I'm watching you." You turn around, expecting to see the same man, but instead you see a cop watching two kids with disapproval in his eyes.

When you get home, it's dark, and you close and lock the door. As you slide the deadbolt in, your daughter says "Mommy?"

Before you can turn and ask her what she wants, you hear the same voice say "I told you I was watching you." You finish turning, and there is a man in the shadows with his hand on your daughters shoulder.

2. You're getting ready to do the high jump, and impress your latest crush. You stretch out your leg muscles, and do a few sprints to get warmed up.

Then Chuck, a stupid kid with thick glasses and his nose always in a dusty book, comes up to you.

"You'll never make it, and she'll love me." Chuck says.

You sneer and push him down, then head out to the jump. You laugh as he spouts out some stupid saying in Klingon or something

You can't understand, though, why everyone is laughing at you, even as you push the wheels on your wheelchair.

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A young girl sat in the corner of a long abandoned house on the south side sobbing violently. The light from a near by streetlight leaked through a hole in the wall she was leaning on and barely illuminated a shoulder and an oddly bent leg.

A man’s voice crept through the shadows “Dana.” The sound of her name she instantly stood and faced the voice that echoed still in the room.

“What did you see Dana?”

Dana stepped forward into the streetlight’s glow. She was covered in dirt and her blood soaked shirt clung to her chest. Her soft auburn hair hung in front of her face hiding her eyes.

“I awoke in a field to the sun.” Dana timidly offered.

“Dreams.” Spat back the voice.

“I am not finished yet.” Dana whispered. “The sun slowly turned into an eye. An all seeing knowing entity, and then it shut it self and became the moon. The man’s eye who looked down on me from the sun stepped off the moon and into the field in front of me. He looked down on me with pity and offered his hand. I then took his hand and stood in front of him. He smiled at me and lit my darkened soul. He spoke one word.”

Dana paused, took a deep breath out of habit, kneeled down touched her toes and began to softly sob again.

“The word Dana.” The command ,no more than a sigh of breath, seeped from the shadows.

Dana’s sobs became more jolting; he voice was thick with self-loathing and shame.

“My love, I can not remember.”

Dana held her head up revealing her face to the voice. Her cheeks were shiny and crimson. Her black eyes reflected the hatred she had for herself for failing him twice in one night..

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You want to know why Im selling my bike? I'll tell you...

So, Im riding down the highway with the boys after we left that last joint once the rain stopped. Goddamn, there's nothing better than doing 90 miles an hour down the interstate on a proper American bike, none of this imported kiawosiki or whatever the hell those rice rockets are called. Im near the back of the pack keeping pace with Papa and Neil, just crusing. Then it happens. A blur and Neil is gone. His bike just keeps coasting along like nothing has happened until it keels over in a shower of sparks. Papa and I pull to a stop near it and leap off our rides to check it out. Theres no sign of Neil but a smear of blood and the lingering smell of wet fur.

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Donor

You're waiting at the subway to get home. The thing never comes and the exit seems to be locked. There's just you and that bum here, but he looks really, really creepy.

---

All pictures of you begin to fade, as does the one on your driver's license and pass port. After a while you notice that the information on those are gone, and while asking your best friend about it, he can't recall ever meeting you...

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Donor

You might or might not have a reason to be on this cargo freighter, but that doesn't help you understand where the crew went. And what the heck was that sound?

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