My Native Dead CityA/N: Story is based on my dream.
Darkness… Silent, deadly darkness… The city swamping in the arms of the night…
It was the city where I was born, but… now it was practically deserted. Collapsing buildings, the stains of blood were here and there, pieces of flesh… Only a few people were still here, who refused to abandon it. Even the public transport still worked for them. I couldn’t understand their behaviour, because now the city belonged to Death itself…
In this deadly night I was standing at the bus stop near the bridge in the city centre, crossing the main river. But I wasn’t alone – there were still three people, two men and a woman, waiting for the bus to come. Everything seemed peaceful, but it was an illusion, because I heard a strange sound, like a silent roar. I began trembling at that sound, because I knew – only one creature can make such horrifying sound. The zombie. A living dead.
I didn’t even manag
I am a MonsterA/N: Story is based on my dream.
Walls… Just four bright walls around me…
Where am I? How did I get here? I can’t remember a damn thing. Did I get here myself or were I brought here by someone? No idea, I remember nothing. My clothes… where are they? I feel just cold air touching my bare skin. And my body… What is going on with my body?
Am I dead? Well, if I’m still moving and breathing, it’s impossible. But what’s wrong with my body, my skin? Am I… decomposing..? And why don’t I feel any pain? As far as I know, if the flesh of a living creature starts decomposing, it’s a very painful process. But I… I feel no pain at all…
No, it’s not just a simple flesh decomposition. It’s metamorphosis. I’m changing. But how am I changing? What am I becoming? A living corpse? A monster? Whatever it is, very soon I shall lose any human signs, and they will be replaced by something else, much more s
A Secret in the AtticMoving to the new house is always difficult, especially if it’s a large family. But sooner or later everyone must go through this. But, lucky for Alex, she was still a student and had no family yet, so for her it’s not such a big problem. Her family gifted their beloved daughter (and granddaughter) a new house. As she was the only child, they did their best to give her everything necessary for a happy life, and she was more than grateful. After all, it would take her a long time to earn enough money to buy a place to live, and she couldn’t wait to begin a new life by herself.
At last the moving process was over and now Alex and her family sat together in the dining room and had dinner.
“Well, dear, are you happy with your new house?” Mary, Alex’s mother, asked.
“Of course,” Alex replied. “I’ve wanted to have my own place for a long time already.”
“And you definitely deserve it. It’s the duty of every parent,
Thoughts of a WitchI lie huddled in the corner of my dungeon cell. It is dark, it is cold; the air is moist and stinks. Pale light pours though a small barred window. I am alone. The straw on the floor stabs into my naked feet. The dirty sackcloth robe scratches at my bloody, abused and bruised skin. Everything hurts and throbs with numb pain. I know I will die soon.
I have confessed under the torture. I knew that it would seal my fate, but I could not stand the pain any more. I shiver and tremble as the memories of the unspeakable things they had done to me come back: Their cold hands and fingers touching my body everywhere in search for the mark. As they did not find anything to prove my guilt, they had started to hurt me for a confession. They stab needles in my birthmarks, beat me with sticks and the whip. What followed was the torment on the rack, tearing and stretching my fragile body until I passed out from the pain. The chair with its sharp metal spikes, the screws that crushed my fingers and toe