Post by Honey_Bunny on Jun 18, 2009 0:48:52 GMT 12
A rather dark story from me. It has been inspired by Starbeast's Jack the Ripper character and the Box Saga and it is written in the style of Clive Barker's novel Mr B Gone. Despite this story, I am the nice happy hoping around bunny.
******
Oh hello. It's been a while since someone talked to me. I say "talked" but mean, of course listened. I can't imagine why you stopped by listening to me, reading me. I mean, if I were you I would just delete this thread and me with it. Eliminate. Erase. Forget.
I can see you moving your head back a little and squinting your eyes, an expression that tells me you are confused. Yes, I am the words written here, I am that silent voice in your mind (now that you are reading this).
Why am I like this? Well, it's quite simple really. I have never been a good looking man. Not my natural look anyway, I was a shapeshifter. But my natural look is not very appealing, I can assure you. It is better to appear as something acceptable: words.
Mind you, words give me power. One word can mean so much, and a sentance carries so much with it, I think you tend to ignore this fact. And did you ever stop tp realize how much weight, how much power. how much force one letter carries? Oh you are smart! Yes, I was talking about the word "I"
Well, I suppose that now we are here together , you - curious in nature, would want to know everything about me. But I wonder what you will do with this information. I mean, I dont think many will beleive you, I don't know if you'll believe yourself (or me!), and my story is quite horrofing so I do not know what it will do to your mental health. But dont worry, I have read that sometimes people are better off in the dreamland of Insanity.
It's your choice, you can close this window and read something else, or go buy something online. Do something that will satisfy your needs. And wants. Hmm, knowing my story, is that a need or a want you will fulfil?
Stil here? Ok then. I see that you have decided to stay afterall. But dont blame me if you get nightmares or become sick (physically or mentally).
Well first things first - introdcution. I am Jack, a scientist alien. In my days I was known as Jack the Ripper. I used to rip up people, especially girls. Lovely girls. The screams they made when they saw my blade were sweeter than the screams they made under me.
Oh no, it wasn't rape. Never. The girls liked me, you see. Oh I was quite the lover. Quite the lover. I was very good at seducing those girls. I would give them what they wanted and when I showed them my real face they all tried to get away from, screamed for help, told me all sort of mean things, called me by all kind of names... Well what could I do? Wouldn't you lose your temper? If I would have let her go, she would alarm her friends (her husband - oh some of them were naughty) and they will either kill me or have me put behind bars... and for what? Because of my slashed up face? That's not a reason, surely. And I also had to kill her to save her from losing her mind (they were too young to live in Dreamland). I didn't always use my blade, I carried poison with me (what I called my vitamins), and sometimes I would use my bare hands. I was born with strong arms.
It is interesting a story where I get my strong arms from. My father used to make use of them. I would work on our field all day and all night. From sunrise to sunset. Never a moment of rest. No, I lie. I did get to rest. When my dear mother couldnt bare to see her child physically working all day she demanded my father to give me a rest. He tied me up with strong horse reins to a two poles (much like Jesus was). He place a bowl of soup and bread above my head and in order to reach that food I had to lift my body.... I believe humans made a sport out of it, chin-ups. From that time I knew why they called it stretching
Here's some background information. Yes, my father was a bully, he hated me, I hated him, all becuase I was better than he. I was better looking, I was young, I was strong. Those slashes on my face?most of them are from him. My mom hated me too. Not too much, but she stil did. She went through a very complicated and painful pregnency. She was the scientist in the family and when she did her experiments she would ask father to get her the ingredients she needed. Piece of skin, hair, blood... yep I was his "volunteer". I had no brothers or sisters and no friends. No one visited us due to my wonderful couple as parents.
My dad killed my mother. He came home drunk and beat her up. After all these years I can stil hear her screams. She blurted out all that she thinks of him and he only beat her harder. I was watching all this, and you know what I think he enjoyed it. And I was a little boy at the time, what could I do but cry? So I began to cry and screamed for my father to stop. Bad idea. He sw me and with a rabid look in his eyes he came towards me holding a kitchen knife in his hand, prettied me up, and called me names. I pushed him off me and I felt for the knife (my vision was blurried with blood gashing from my forehead) I didn't see what I was doing ... I stuck the knife between his ribs.
I had to run. But where a thing like me goes? No friends, no relatives, in pain, covered in blood... where do I go? I lay there on the floor writhing in pain. You know, if you let the pain be there for a while it will soon go away. Like the bad guys. The pain gets bored when you stop screaming in agony and stop wincing. When you accept the pain, it just leaves. I bandged myself and lived alone in a house with two dead bodies.
I became a scientist. I enrolled in a small university but apparently I got mad. Power Hungry they called me and I was thrown away. They thought I was weird when I tested experiments on myself.
I was resented everywhere I went. And it was then when I took off my bandages and took my vitamins. I was a new man, people suddenly noticed me. The girls turned around and wanted me, they sometimes offered me. They gave me love and appreciation... But if we were to be together , I wanted her to see me in my true colours, as it were. Sometimes I would just tell them my story, or begin to tell them my story, and they would pass out or scream. It is amazing how words effect people. I mean, they didn't even know if it was true.
I did think of killing myself. I mean, what's the point of living when no one needs you. And wants you. But then I said to myself, there is more to this life. I must go on a quest, a journey, an expedition! And it was then when I learnt about the Box. Oh if I could get my hands on this box... that would be so nice. But other people were after it too. No matter how hard it is, just keep going, my father used to yell at me. And I did.
It was not all women I got rid of after love-making or otherwise. I met this cat animaloid named Tabby. She was the prettiest flower I have ever seen. It annoyed her, and I loved it. She was so playful and naughty. We were both playing with eachother neither of us knowing if we are playing thr True Love Game or the True Hate Game. I think I did love her. She would scratch me and I would pull her tail and say to her words that she wanted to hear and I kept calling her "my flower" and she hated it. She said she hated it, Oh, I could kill for that look in her eyes when I spoke those words. And she loved the tricks my tongue did when we kissed. Like fire on water she said it feels like. But she got scared once. Too scared . She tried to kill me even. She didnt know what she was doing. But as you know, I am strong. And I threw her away across the room , she banged against the wall and I took my leave. I regretted this. So I came back , but she was not there. I left a rose on the floor. I havent heard from her since.
After this little incident I was soon captured by those others who were after the Box. They didnt kill me. They captured me and put me behind bars. I begged them to kill me, I got bored sitting there doing nothing. So I asked for some paper, just to doodle out of sheer boredomness. And one day they came to me and told me its time to go. They threw the cage I was in (with me in it) straight into space. I got burnt in the intense heat from the sun. I just burnt in a sticky liquid that turned into ash. This ash got cemented into the paper.. and here I am.
I am amazed. You listened to me. So what now? I suppose you hate me? You think I am evil, I deserve to die. Sure, go ahead kill me.
How?
Surely you won't smash your precious computer screen.... That would be one way
You can ask for this thread to be deleted .... (takes will power, doesn't it?) .... That would be another way
You could not visit this thread again .... (temptation.. I hate it too).... That's another way
You could forget about me ..... (hard isn't it?)... That's another way
Four ways so far. I am sure you can come up with more. When you do decide on your favourite way to kill me, to rob me off my unworthy life, to destroy me... Just think about me and my pretty flower. She will be your enemy, trust me on that. And what about me? Can you judge me on what I have done? Taking into account the horrible life I lived? When I killed those women , those pretty young girls, I had reasons. And when I knew their death would affect their loved ones I killed those too. I didnt want those pretty girls to be thought as insane.
Really, I am a good man. There was no one who wanted to fix me up, so I tried fixing myelf up. You can't deny that, I did try.
But that's not good enough for you, is it?
Go on kill me. KILL ME!
What?
Why the hesitation?
Oh I see, if you kill me, you become a killer, a murderer....
Pssst. It will be our secret . No one will know.
Ah, but you will live with this guilt forever.....
What will it be then, my friend?
Yes, you curse yourself now "why did I not stop reading!", I can hear all you say.
Don't look around! I am not behind you... I am in new! I am in your mind. When you read my story.. you read it with your voice right? I were you.
If you leave now, will you tell anyone? Of course. I mean, you dont want to suffer alone.
Sigh. No rest for me then.
Well, I suppose I will see you tommorrow. You, or someone else....
It's time for those two magic words.
No! not The End! It's not the end.
The two words are
Nightie Night.
******
Oh hello. It's been a while since someone talked to me. I say "talked" but mean, of course listened. I can't imagine why you stopped by listening to me, reading me. I mean, if I were you I would just delete this thread and me with it. Eliminate. Erase. Forget.
I can see you moving your head back a little and squinting your eyes, an expression that tells me you are confused. Yes, I am the words written here, I am that silent voice in your mind (now that you are reading this).
Why am I like this? Well, it's quite simple really. I have never been a good looking man. Not my natural look anyway, I was a shapeshifter. But my natural look is not very appealing, I can assure you. It is better to appear as something acceptable: words.
Mind you, words give me power. One word can mean so much, and a sentance carries so much with it, I think you tend to ignore this fact. And did you ever stop tp realize how much weight, how much power. how much force one letter carries? Oh you are smart! Yes, I was talking about the word "I"
Well, I suppose that now we are here together , you - curious in nature, would want to know everything about me. But I wonder what you will do with this information. I mean, I dont think many will beleive you, I don't know if you'll believe yourself (or me!), and my story is quite horrofing so I do not know what it will do to your mental health. But dont worry, I have read that sometimes people are better off in the dreamland of Insanity.
It's your choice, you can close this window and read something else, or go buy something online. Do something that will satisfy your needs. And wants. Hmm, knowing my story, is that a need or a want you will fulfil?
Stil here? Ok then. I see that you have decided to stay afterall. But dont blame me if you get nightmares or become sick (physically or mentally).
Well first things first - introdcution. I am Jack, a scientist alien. In my days I was known as Jack the Ripper. I used to rip up people, especially girls. Lovely girls. The screams they made when they saw my blade were sweeter than the screams they made under me.
Oh no, it wasn't rape. Never. The girls liked me, you see. Oh I was quite the lover. Quite the lover. I was very good at seducing those girls. I would give them what they wanted and when I showed them my real face they all tried to get away from, screamed for help, told me all sort of mean things, called me by all kind of names... Well what could I do? Wouldn't you lose your temper? If I would have let her go, she would alarm her friends (her husband - oh some of them were naughty) and they will either kill me or have me put behind bars... and for what? Because of my slashed up face? That's not a reason, surely. And I also had to kill her to save her from losing her mind (they were too young to live in Dreamland). I didn't always use my blade, I carried poison with me (what I called my vitamins), and sometimes I would use my bare hands. I was born with strong arms.
It is interesting a story where I get my strong arms from. My father used to make use of them. I would work on our field all day and all night. From sunrise to sunset. Never a moment of rest. No, I lie. I did get to rest. When my dear mother couldnt bare to see her child physically working all day she demanded my father to give me a rest. He tied me up with strong horse reins to a two poles (much like Jesus was). He place a bowl of soup and bread above my head and in order to reach that food I had to lift my body.... I believe humans made a sport out of it, chin-ups. From that time I knew why they called it stretching
Here's some background information. Yes, my father was a bully, he hated me, I hated him, all becuase I was better than he. I was better looking, I was young, I was strong. Those slashes on my face?most of them are from him. My mom hated me too. Not too much, but she stil did. She went through a very complicated and painful pregnency. She was the scientist in the family and when she did her experiments she would ask father to get her the ingredients she needed. Piece of skin, hair, blood... yep I was his "volunteer". I had no brothers or sisters and no friends. No one visited us due to my wonderful couple as parents.
My dad killed my mother. He came home drunk and beat her up. After all these years I can stil hear her screams. She blurted out all that she thinks of him and he only beat her harder. I was watching all this, and you know what I think he enjoyed it. And I was a little boy at the time, what could I do but cry? So I began to cry and screamed for my father to stop. Bad idea. He sw me and with a rabid look in his eyes he came towards me holding a kitchen knife in his hand, prettied me up, and called me names. I pushed him off me and I felt for the knife (my vision was blurried with blood gashing from my forehead) I didn't see what I was doing ... I stuck the knife between his ribs.
I had to run. But where a thing like me goes? No friends, no relatives, in pain, covered in blood... where do I go? I lay there on the floor writhing in pain. You know, if you let the pain be there for a while it will soon go away. Like the bad guys. The pain gets bored when you stop screaming in agony and stop wincing. When you accept the pain, it just leaves. I bandged myself and lived alone in a house with two dead bodies.
I became a scientist. I enrolled in a small university but apparently I got mad. Power Hungry they called me and I was thrown away. They thought I was weird when I tested experiments on myself.
I was resented everywhere I went. And it was then when I took off my bandages and took my vitamins. I was a new man, people suddenly noticed me. The girls turned around and wanted me, they sometimes offered me. They gave me love and appreciation... But if we were to be together , I wanted her to see me in my true colours, as it were. Sometimes I would just tell them my story, or begin to tell them my story, and they would pass out or scream. It is amazing how words effect people. I mean, they didn't even know if it was true.
I did think of killing myself. I mean, what's the point of living when no one needs you. And wants you. But then I said to myself, there is more to this life. I must go on a quest, a journey, an expedition! And it was then when I learnt about the Box. Oh if I could get my hands on this box... that would be so nice. But other people were after it too. No matter how hard it is, just keep going, my father used to yell at me. And I did.
It was not all women I got rid of after love-making or otherwise. I met this cat animaloid named Tabby. She was the prettiest flower I have ever seen. It annoyed her, and I loved it. She was so playful and naughty. We were both playing with eachother neither of us knowing if we are playing thr True Love Game or the True Hate Game. I think I did love her. She would scratch me and I would pull her tail and say to her words that she wanted to hear and I kept calling her "my flower" and she hated it. She said she hated it, Oh, I could kill for that look in her eyes when I spoke those words. And she loved the tricks my tongue did when we kissed. Like fire on water she said it feels like. But she got scared once. Too scared . She tried to kill me even. She didnt know what she was doing. But as you know, I am strong. And I threw her away across the room , she banged against the wall and I took my leave. I regretted this. So I came back , but she was not there. I left a rose on the floor. I havent heard from her since.
After this little incident I was soon captured by those others who were after the Box. They didnt kill me. They captured me and put me behind bars. I begged them to kill me, I got bored sitting there doing nothing. So I asked for some paper, just to doodle out of sheer boredomness. And one day they came to me and told me its time to go. They threw the cage I was in (with me in it) straight into space. I got burnt in the intense heat from the sun. I just burnt in a sticky liquid that turned into ash. This ash got cemented into the paper.. and here I am.
I am amazed. You listened to me. So what now? I suppose you hate me? You think I am evil, I deserve to die. Sure, go ahead kill me.
How?
Surely you won't smash your precious computer screen.... That would be one way
You can ask for this thread to be deleted .... (takes will power, doesn't it?) .... That would be another way
You could not visit this thread again .... (temptation.. I hate it too).... That's another way
You could forget about me ..... (hard isn't it?)... That's another way
Four ways so far. I am sure you can come up with more. When you do decide on your favourite way to kill me, to rob me off my unworthy life, to destroy me... Just think about me and my pretty flower. She will be your enemy, trust me on that. And what about me? Can you judge me on what I have done? Taking into account the horrible life I lived? When I killed those women , those pretty young girls, I had reasons. And when I knew their death would affect their loved ones I killed those too. I didnt want those pretty girls to be thought as insane.
Really, I am a good man. There was no one who wanted to fix me up, so I tried fixing myelf up. You can't deny that, I did try.
But that's not good enough for you, is it?
Go on kill me. KILL ME!
What?
Why the hesitation?
Oh I see, if you kill me, you become a killer, a murderer....
Pssst. It will be our secret . No one will know.
Ah, but you will live with this guilt forever.....
What will it be then, my friend?
Yes, you curse yourself now "why did I not stop reading!", I can hear all you say.
Don't look around! I am not behind you... I am in new! I am in your mind. When you read my story.. you read it with your voice right? I were you.
If you leave now, will you tell anyone? Of course. I mean, you dont want to suffer alone.
Sigh. No rest for me then.
Well, I suppose I will see you tommorrow. You, or someone else....
It's time for those two magic words.
No! not The End! It's not the end.
The two words are
Nightie Night.