The Bedlam of SilenceThe unending pain,
the monotony of it all.
It drives me insane,
tearing my soul asunder.
The quietness of this place,
the unending silence.
Madness I do embrace,
to kill the agony inside.
I hear them whispering now,
the voices I cannot escape.
They will keep their dark vow,
and I will not escape them.
But it never goes away,
the maddening silence.
The torture is here to stay,
to bring me back to Infernum.
I always loved my sisterI always loved my sister. Even though we were 5 years apart, I always had a incredible admiration for her. I remember I use to cry whenever she got hurt.
One time, when I was 5 and she was 10, she jumped from the roof of our two story house. And her body plummeted right next to me. I started to cry when I saw her twisted neck.
After a few minutes, her head turned back into place. As she lied in her own blood, She turned to me and smiled.
"Don't cry, Suzy. I'm okay."
She then got up and walked into the house, not bothered by her blood stained clothes.
I stared at the spot where my sister once lied in. Her blood coated the grass. To this day, I never found out what my sister was.
The Carrier DiariesThere are three kinds of people in the world. Flesh eating minions of hell, humankind, and those caught in between both extremes of the spectrum.
They call them carriers.
A human on a horse led three roped-and-tied souls behind him through the dead of night. They were bound at the wrists in one long chain attached to the saddle. They were forbidden to speak to each other, or the man on the horse would cut off their lips. He'd said as much when he'd caught each one of them.
The first in line was a man who still bore a bleeding wound from the bite that made him carrier swine. Sometimes their wounds took a while to heal, but this one needed to be found to keep a blood trail from showing their path in the sand. He was large, but the transformation had made him docile.
The second carrier, sandwiched between the first and last, was a woman, middle-aged and with no hair on her head. She had looked somber ever since the man on the horse found her s
Mr. Four Legs (CREEPYPASTA)
Mr. [Mister] Four  Legs.
Watch your doors, watch your windows, for you shall see,
something lurking into your rooms, breaking your spirits free,
Sanity blows away, leaving you nothing but fear,
Eerie laughters, and scratching is all you hear,
Your clock ticks as fast as your heartbeat as you see its shadow,
now you feel nothing but your only sorrow,
you wish for this creature to go away and never come back,
as its claws sink into your bedsheets, giving you a heart attack,
It's souless eye, and its sharp teeth gives you the wonders of true horror,
you try to pull your sheets, hiding like a cat under the covers,
you try to solve the puzzle, retrieving your mind,
thinking this creature is false, hoping you're right,
you slowly peek out from the covers, your head reveals,
There it is, grinning at you, twisting your faucet full of tears,
It knows you worry, it knows your disbelief,
Brushing it's c
TorqueoSeptember 30th, 2015
They found another last night. They think it's the same thing, Torqueo.
They have no idea where it came from, but it comes for you in the dead of night - those insomniac nights when you can't get to sleep. Apparently you can't see it but you'll know when it's there. Little things, the "classics": the feeling of being watched, creaking noises, movement in the corner of your eye. Those simple things you try to shrug off as your imagination.
It bides its time, teasing you, trying to get you as susceptible as possible. It wants your imagination to run wild, to envisage the worst things you possibly can. And when you reach that pinnacle moment, it strikes. It turns that worst thought, that worst imagining in your head into a reality. A slow, exceptionally torturous reality.
They find you the next morning. Your body frozen, trapped. But your eyes scream it all. You're still there. It still has you. Torqueo. An eternity of torment.
They haven't worked out how to esc