- Who said Halloween had to be fun? These days, Halloween was used as an excuse for quite a handful of people to get into costumes and party, and for kids to put on these cute, ugly, and creative costumes and beg for candies.... But for you, well, you're more of a masquerade person, aren't you? In fact, you already had your outfit prepared, your mask carefully picked.
Still, as excited as you are... you still feel somewhat conscious about your outfit. Sure, everyone were wearing their masks and were mingling with each other, you found yourself standing away from the crowd, watching them carefully with a glass of appletini in your hand. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed someone approaching you. She had a rather long, straight hair going to her mid-back. Her mask was a silver one, adorned with diamonds, and a black coat decorated with red flowers drooped over her body. Strange... for one to wear such a clothing perfect for snow to be found in this kind.. of a party. But still, at least you don't feel as though everyone were looking at you and you finally relaxed.
'Privet, krasivaya.' Greeted the Russian woman, her fingertips lightly rubbing a few strands of your hair before she offered her hand for you to take. You felt someone uneasy... she seemed nice and yet, she carried this strange, dark aura. It was as though telling your gut to not take the hand she offered... but you still did so. Once your hand touched hers, she led you away into the balcony, where the only two of you were there.
It was beautiful, really. The stars were shining brightly like gems in sparkling in a dark canvas, and she intended to add crimson splash over the topaz to make the artwork beautiful, but without her trusted shovel to deliver the deed, all she was able to do was grasp your shoulders and shoved you towards the railing of the balcony. Your back hit the metal hardly.... though you didn't have the chance to react - she already threw you over the barrier, and down into your hopefully, slow and painful end...
'Happy Halloween....
-Anya Braginskaya
Arron the Lythcol Mechanic[
You are waiting for a friend when a cloaked figure appears under the nearest streetlight. You see that the person is tall & slender as they walk closer. They remove their hood & you see it is someone you know. His face is vacant, as if someone had turned off the lights in his soul. He is right in front of you when you start to ask if he is alright. Then you feel a sharp pain in your chest. His hand has transformed into a crystal sword, & was driven through your chest. Blood trickles down the front of your shirt & you stare at him in shock. His eyes reveal pain & fear, as if he did not want to do this. The cold, blood covered crystallized blade is removed, causing more pain as you crumple to the ground. The bracelet on his wrist then glows & he turns to leave. You watch him leave as the world grows dark.
]~Arron the Lythcol Mechanic
The Lonely Petunia
You are at a very young age in this story. Young enough to barely know enough words to speak properly. Your parents are working nearby, and you're teetering around, exploring your surroundings.
You're walking across the gravel when you turn to see bright lights coming your way. You place your hands out in front of you to stop whatever's coming at you, because you think you're strong enough to do anything. You don't succeed.
A large vehicle knocks you to the floor. A tire that's as big as you rolls over you, crushing several bones. The vehicle stops for a second once the tire comes off of you. You're in complete shock. You can't breathe, you're bloody, and your little mind is screaming out one thing - &Mommy.&
The van continues to go on. Another tire crushes your tiny, frail little body. Every second is like an eternity of hell. You can hear the breaking of your bones. The van drives off, leaving you bloody and sprawled out on the ground. Your blood puddles around you and you see your body, practically torn apart. Your vision blurs with tears and you drift off into a deep sleep.
If you had known that eighteen people, eighteen people that could have helped you, that could have called the ambulance, EIGHTEEN PEOPLE that could have held you and told you that everything was going to be okay, but instead they WALKED PAST YOU like you were not there, bleeding, dying, in need of help - how would you feel? What if I told you that you were ran over a second time, your legs were severly injured, and the second person didn't even stop to check on you either? What if I told you that finally, eighteen passerbys later, someone finally rushes you to a hospital?
Soon after the tragedy you're in a coma in the local hospital. Your mother and father squeeze your hand and cry, praying that you will be okay.
A week later, your parents say their last goodbyes. Your mother hugs you tightly, sobbing. You are gone now.
You are now a legend. You have touched the hearts of millions of people across the world. You have been brutally run over twice, nobody came to save you even though they were only a few inches from you. This has outraged so many people...
This shows just how cruel humanity can be.
- The Lonely Petunia
The Little Lonely Ghost
'Hello there... I am doing fine... though I'm cold... always cold...'
- Little Lonely Ghost -
No, a fire would not help... thank you though.... I have been cold so long, I doubt I could ever be warm again... Perhaps I should stop complaining about fate...'
- Little Lonely Ghost -
