Discussion in 'Off-Topic Lounge' started by Ruby Rose, Jan 9, 2015.
What da heck!? I'm not sleeping tonight....
Not my story, but I really wanted to share it
Chapter 0: A Past Once Lived
I remember 10 years ago I was assisgned to a mission to save a hostage with my friend Vinnie back when we were cops, and...well...ourselves. Our team was surrounding the house just in case someone decided to bail, and we entered the house. The upper-portion of the house was clear, and it was silent as a dead man's voice. We then looked around the house, and suddenly heard screaming coming from the basement. We've rushed over there, and we were met with guns pointed at our foreheads. My instinct told me to shoot them, but I wasn't fast enough, and they've fired at us point-blank. Luckily, they were non-lethal rubber-bullets, but they've fired so many, it felt like real bullets. We couldn't move a muscle, but we could move our eyes. I saw the dead hostage's face; it was just a random civilian with her body on a chair, and a bullet wound on her forehead. They then dragged us outside to see, in horror, dead police-men that were guarding the house. The sirens are still on, which caused a racket in a seemingly rural-area. We wre dragged into a van. I blacked-out while we were being taken on the van. I woke up on a bed with a roommate. It wasn't my partner, just a random person. I was too weak to move, but my roommate knew I was up. He engaged in a conversation with me, and told me that my past was gone, and that I had no future. I was a different man, and nothing can change that. I didnxt believe him, and his words made me angry. I couldn't say anything, or do anything, because of my weak body. He then told me more of what this place was, and why we're here. This place was actually a secluded experimentational facility in the middle of nowhere (at least, that's what he believes), and that him and I are here solely for experimental purposes. I felt my muscles regaining their strength by a little, and attempted to look at my own hands. I looked in fear, and attempted to get out of my bed. They had to pay, they all had to pay for what they've done to me. I can only move my upper-body though, so I just rocked there in horror. The security must've heard us, and they went to our room. They've shined some light in this dark-filled room, and saw me first. They dragged me to the floor, and pointed their assault rifle at me just like last time. It was him who took the first shot at me back at the hostage situation. I looked at him dead in his eyes, and so did he. He then spotted a figure outside that shot him in the heart. I took his knife as he fell to the ground, and lodged it in his throat, eventually killing him. I looked at the lighted-hallways, and met a figure that said to follow her. I took my roommate with us, and he followed. Everyone was running in the direction we were running in. The lady then took out her pistol, and handed it to me. I noticed she had the same outfit as me: black undershirt, and khaki-cargo pants. I saw my partner Vinnie, and I caught up with him, but then he was met with enemy soldiers. I pulled him back to the nearest cell possible before the soldier got a chance to shoot him. Many people in the hallway got shot, and were met with piercing lead. I put out my pistol, facing it to the door, and shot the upcoming soldiers in the face. We then took the soldiers' guns, and looked for our group. They weren't anywhere near us, so we tried to look for a way out. Eventually, we've found an exit, but then a group of soldier were surrounding it. We've put our hands up, and our guns down. We tried everything, but didn't try harder enough...or so we've thought. We've seen a dead soldier with a good arsenal nearby an large desk, good for cover. We've then jumped into cover, and they attempted to shoot at us. We've found some gernades on him, an assault rifle, and some armor. I told Vinnie to put the armor on, and throw some gernade. I shot at the soldiers, who were also heavily-armed. Close to running out of ammo. We've exterminated the group, and ran outside. Then, an injured soldier shot an SMG at both of us, and when he reloaded, his face kissed the tires of a Jeep our friend was riding. We got on the Jeep, and rode off. While we were riding in the Jeep, we got time to connect with each other. The roommate revealed himself as Sergeant Conners; he the tracker and former member of the U.S. Army, showing his glass-eye with a tracker, and his babge. The lady revealed to be Dart; she was one of the survivors of the Spectre's experiments back in 1995 (about 20 years ago), and a trained-black ops soldier. Vinnie was about to introduce himself, until we were met with soldiers blockading the road, shooting at the windshield. Dart lost control, and crashed down the hill by the road. When we regained consciousness, Dart was gone, Conners was knocked-out, and Vinnie was windshield-cannoned out of the window. I first got out of the car by going through the windshield, took Conners out and carried him over my back, and rushed to Vinnie's body. It looked like he suffered some injuries like Conners, and he couldn't speak. He lost his tongue during the crash, and was bleeding heavily in his mouth. It looked like he wasn't going to make it. I dragged Vinnie while trying to find Dart. We then saw a nearby city, and went there. Conners then woke up, and can only remembercrashing beofre going unconscious. He then walked on his own, giving me a chance to carry Vinnie instead of dragging him. We followed the lights of the city, and eventually made it. We knew we would cause a panic if we walked in a hospital, so we had to meet a friend who would fix us up. My friend named Darius Clinton, and he lived in an apartment in the outskirts of New Chicago. We entered his apartment, and saw his door, which I knocked on. Before he opened the door, he told me who it was. I told him my identity, and he opened the door. He then looked in horror, and was about to scream, but he then realized it was Halloween. He then told us how professional our costumes looked. We rolled with his stupidity, and went inside. We told him we need a little fix-up, as we "got in a fight while walking home from trick-r-treating". He bought our lie, and bandaged us. We decided to live nearby his apartment home to keep in touch, and been there since then. I though we had to pay for mortgage, but we found out this apartment was abandoned, but "still in good condition". We bought his stretched-truth, and stayed...A couple of month later, We decided to go check out on Darius, but he wasn't there. His TV was still on, his window was open, and the door was wide-open when we walked-in. I looked out the window, and I saw Darius trying to climb down the apartment. He exclaimed that they were coming for him, and as I looked behind me, I saw a soldier tackling Vinnie to the floor, and bringing out his pistol. I got a kitchen-knife, tackled him as well, and stabbed him in the face consecutive times. He was dead, and Vinnie was safe. When I looked outside, I saw more soldiers approaching our room. We had no choice but to follow Darius, but then we saw Darius lose his grip, and fall to his death. We couldn't bring ourselves to climb down the apartment, so webrought out our pistols, and prepared for the worst. Then, a helicopter came out of nowhere, and there was Dart. She said to jump into the helicopter if we wanted to live. We then jumped on the helicopter, saw a manned-turret on the other side of the helicopter preparing to shoot something, the helicopter turned 180° degrees, and shot the soldiers entering the room, bullet by bullet. In the helicopter was an AI named "Qwertyperson" (what a dumb name). We were then assigned to a mission starting later that night. We were to investigate a meeting lead by the Vector (AKA Spectre)...
End of Chapter 0
I would've gave you an A+ + + + + + - +
As I sit here, with my holy brew... I slowly, painfully go dying.
Wish I might, but I already knew... my time is slowly flying.
So here I will sit, till the end of my days... to slowly rot and decay.
In conclusion, it must of been a craze... but that is what they always say.
in every tile theres is a smile, i as go too far of a mile, i see that were just like sand, falling from a soft hand , your story is up to you,
cuz life wasent just red,yellow and blue.
so simple,thats what my brain sees but my heart knows cuz no one feels
On a snowy day on Christmas Eve,
Lies a man by the name of Steve.
He wasn't very jolly, and for a good reason too;
He had no one to celebrate with. Boo-hoo.
He would always do his daily routines before the day.
They were the same as anyone's, but no one to help in his way.
He would just sit there like a couch-potato,
Drinking his egg-nog, and watching Christmas shows.
Then one day he decided to go out for a change.
He went out of his house, and off he ranged.
As he walked, he saw Christmas lights as far as the eye can see.
And Christmas decorations; eye-candy for you and me.
He enjoyed this walk as it lasted,
But he slipped and cracked his head.
As he's out, people noticed around him yelped,
That he's not okay, and needed help.
People called 911, and demanded an ambulance
For the man that that slipped and got benched.
The man woke up in the hospital with people surrounding him,
Wishing him a Merry Christmas and giving him presents.
The presents were little, but he thought they were big.
These were the first presents given to him.
The man for the first time knew what Christmas was about:
It was about caring, and giving to others around't.
As he smiled, he looked up said with delight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night"
Even if i dont celebrate Christmas eve
And if i dont give you presents from my sleeves, i do love you guys and that should you believe
New Year is a time of colors, not a time of gray,
There were loads of thing that people could say.
The adults would work, the kids would play,
But everyone would just SMOKE WEED EVERYDAY.
There was once a man who was Americana,
His yells were fierce, and he laughed like a Hyena.
He was the best fighter in the world's biggest arena,
AND HIS NAME IS JOHN CEEENAAAA.
Here is the last Creepypasta I wrote, I wrote it targeting a friend.
The Blond Artist
A Blond Artist was applying to an Elite Art School in Kent, United Kingdom. Namely Ashford, it was called strange for requiring a Taxidermy course for Artists. He wrote his name as "John Lynch." The Blond Artist got accepted and was Ecstatic, but felt particularly Sadistic at the time of acceptance.
The next day, John Lynch felt more sadistic and started to become sociopathic, but he still went to school. It was the first day, after all.
John Lynch went through his classes, his first class at Daybreak, his last class ending on Sunset. He went home oddly attracted to Taxidermy and similar arts. His head was overthrowing with thoughts he mustn't allow others to know about and he didn't know that. He thought, "Why were people avoiding me?"
The next day, John was absent from school, or so it seemed from inside the school. In reality, he was preparing to give a lesson during the time that would normally be allocated for his Taxidermy class. He prepared a Body by asking a woman to help him carry Groceries to his car at night. From her physique, he guessed she was a Personal Trainer. He thought, "Good, she will last longer." John used a taser that he bought at a Sporting Goods Store in the morning. He was rushed out of the Store. The Blond Artist threw her in the trunk, with her barely breathing.
The third day of school, John wasn't seen by his classmates, however the doors to the taxidermy class were locked. Apparently the normal teacher was absent. The students were told that there would be a substitute for the last class of the day. At the end of the day, the sun was starting to set. There would be precisely 45 Minutes until Sunset.
The first 5 minutes, students rested in their seats. The substitute was there, but she seemed oddly asleep. The class took place in the space of an Auditorium and seats were plentiful, so the students took their seats near the back to avoid seeing the taxidermy animals up close.
A Familiar Face walked onto the podium, there were whispers of "Is that John Lynch?" "He couldn't be..." However, John Lynch was the one on the podium. John said through the loudspeakers, "I am John Lynch, however you can call be 'The Blond Artist.' I will teach you literal Body Art, or what I like to call Corpse Art." John Lynch then walked over to the sleeping 'substitute.'
"This is the body I have collected for my art. She is probably a personal trainer from her physique. I got her by kidnapping. I would recommend getting such a body by kidnapping in a secluded place at night, how you get a person there is up to you to decide."
"The Doors are Locked!"
He started shaking her, and she opened an eye. "Mwah?"
"I can't find my cell phone!"
"I can't either!"
"I sewed her mouth and other eye shut. I title the work I am about to do, 'Life is a Dream.' So I will show you some basic techniques to perform your art, and then teach you how to preserve your art using resin."
As a student tries to race up to the podium, they are knocked out by an electric fence fixed into the floor around the podium.
The Blond Artist then proceeds to sew her other eye shut, then sew the top of her lip to the top of her chin and then sews the corners of her lips to her nose, making a bloody smile that would never normally match normal facial proportions.
Students start screaming, as they have nothing else to do.
"If you are wondering why she can't fight back, it is because I sewed her into that position of sleep. Don't worry, she can tell every change I am applying to her and shouldn't go unconscious just from this."
The Blond Artist then proceeds to cover her in white rose petals to portray a sweet dream and starts pouring resin on her.
The Screaming gets even louder.
"This resin will convert her flesh into plastic.
Before this finishes, I will slit her throat."
The Blond Artist slits her throat and blood gushes out, making the white rose petals blood red.
"Now the message of my artwork is clear. Life is a Dream even at the end."
As the Blond Artist says that, she along with her gushing blood is converted into plastic.
At this moment, the screaming in the class reaches a fever pitch and the sun sets, making a blood red sky.
"I can see the next message for my art already, 'No Wound is Without Pain.' I will make it in the States."
My first good poem
All the darkness, all the pain
There was never a thing such as gain
All the sadness all the hate
Everything I am is dead weight
Why do people criticize
Judging others by what meets the eye
Making them seem smaller than their actual size
Maybe sometimes the truth really is the lie
Transient light, transient heaven
For the men who send the devils
Every demon they have given
Just to climb up fame's levels
And now I lie on my deathbed
All because of the voices in my head
And here I lie alone
Only to be seen as a rotting pile of bones
This is my second poem. It was based on Mayday Parade's "Even Robots Need Blankets". It is actually a suicide love story for people who can't understand it
Everyone here wonders why
Why you had to leave the people who care
Why you had to spread all those happy lies
And here I am asking "Where?"
I thought you found someone new
But apparently I was wrong
You were all alone and blue
And I wasn't there to stay strong
I know you're in the fire but I still believe
I know that the only person who deserves it is me
And now it's my time to leave
I will stop with the promises and now I'll be
Now you have someone to trust
Someone who can show you what you always deserved
Someone who didn't meet you because of lust
But because of true love that will always be preserved
This is my draft for a poem. Don't know what to change but I just wanna know your thoughts:
Here I am, walking amongst the unknown,
Men with one face, one expression
Men whose true faces cannot be shown
For this was their mortal decision
Comedy, tragedy, these are only a few
Of the faces they always wear
The faces we always saw and knew
The faces that hide the sufferings they bear
These faces ruin their capabilities
Making them doubt all the fascinating possibilities
They made them forget the eternal strife;
The endless limits of life
Why did they choose this way?
They wanted to hide from other people
They wanted to stop feeling astray
They wanted to feel normal
Now, I have a paramount task:
To give these people another chance
The chance to remove all their masks
And escape their life-long trance
This was based on Mayday Parade's "Nothing You Can Live Without, Nothing You Can Do About"
How hard is it to forget you?
Not your smile or your pretty little face
But all the pain you put me through
Your pointless, endless chase
You thought it was fun
To always be gone
To haunt me in my own head
While your sleeping in another's bed
You say I'm overprotective
When all you do is lie
You say you don't want to live
When you're trying to make me die
Now I found someone new
Just so I can leave you blue
Hopefully, someone else will treat you well
And then show you your own creation: Hell
Death of a Fusionist
Spoiler: The Work
The day was still, as if the around her had become short of torture, rather it had only been some days since Nightstalker had become her residing Fusionist. Within the wake of the loss, of their old Fusionist and close friend to herself. The female, would wonder around the academy unable to rid the Fusionist of her mind, as she would have wondered upon her old room. Till her surprise the room was still, as she could still hear the sounds of her once friend there, while her mind projected upon the image of her once great sister in arms. Her mind trying to cope with the silence of the air and the room filled with an aura of darkness, as the female looked to a stand that housed a once used power armor, while she looks upon seeing the X-01 power armor seeing a projected image of an older wolf, dabbling in the armors construction as if it were a young child with care as the image fades revealing the still tools and the disorganized state of the armor as if it longs for its old operator. Ever so long and gone whilst the female reaches out her hand to the armor as if sensing the spirit of the once living operating putting her hand upon a yellow blood mark on the chest plate, sensing both Fusionist and Fusion hand in hand for but a moment the women feels to be one with the dead, as the armor all but creaks slightly as if it were to be the sentinel of the room among the ever still tools and the frame it rests, whilst the female lets go of the armor all but shedding a single tear staring into all the memories of the Fusionist’s rounds within the armor readying for battle and returning till during battle. With a heavy grace, rather a single graceful slam from a drop pod. While she would all but kick open her pod door and begin tearing through the enemy, an elite of both two worlds, having severed without question. Yet gone with a mere peep, as the female stares from the door seeing one final image of their youth, dressed head and head in their uniforms during the war, a growling sigh from the Fusionist left only by the vision of a welding torch affixing a plate to the shoulder as the female ever so slowly closes the door without another thought, she herself would continue on for serval years before scrumming to multiple gunshot wounds during a defensive stand, attempting to carry a wounded solider to cover, at the age of fifty six, a medic killed in action as way she lived, a Fusion lost over a Fusionist within a war. She had little understanding of, the death of a Fusionist.. The death of a Fusion..
I decided to make a song about depression and I need feedback on it(Btw the song title for now is "Chemicals"):
People said she was too ugly too live
And so she thought she had nothing left to give
Then she asked the stars,
"What if I never lived?"
She doesn't know she's beautiful
Since she was always called uncool
She thought she wasn't meant to be
And I say "Oh, why can't you see?"
All these chemicals on your face
Just to fit into the human race
Was it worth all of the disgrace
You have taken(you have taken)
She just wants to sing along
But her tune was always wrong
So she wrote her own songs
But she couldn't manage to stay strong
So many empty bottle in her room
The smell of gin and cheap perfume
Pills all over the floor
And now she's insane to the the core(insane to the core)
She doesn't know she's beautiful
Since she was always called a fool
She thought she wasn't meant to be
And I say, "Oh, why can't you see?"
All these chemicals on your face
Just to fit into the human race
Was it worth all of the disgrace
You have taken(you have taken)
All these chemicals in your brain
Just to not be called disdains
Was it really worth the pain?
No it wasn't, no it wasn't
She wants to end it all
Yeah, she wants to end it all
And now this is her final call
All these chemicals on your face
Just to fit into the human race
You're not alone, you're not alone
(Chorus x 2)
The lyrics look great. ^ ^ Do you have any music like instrumentals and such to go with it yet?
Rather so many gone of the past, rather.. It makes me all but think of what could have been, rather an observer I have watch. Many a time, I have watched. Rather, my dearest. As it seems at the predispose of a revaluation, I must yet be infused by both an old world and new world. Faced edge to edge upon the alter of extinction, thrust upon change. Rather.. All has befallen till silence! Deeds undone and words unsaid!! Rather.. Revelations, revelations my dearest.. May we one day weep my dearest![/SPOILER]
You utter my name yet haven't a clue of what it means, you gaze upon me but not speak. You fathom within your devices but do not listen, you seek knowledge bit can not comprehend. Rather you seek to me a voidless stare rather, bound to question to fathom a damn understanding of what I am.. Yet you broil in your devices! Playing away a wasted word for what!? You seek to understand but call to me a fool! Till whom has both lived a life and worn a body.. Rather shall remain, you seek an observer but huddle away upon first glance.. Disgrace! The common theme! Disgrace! You seek to see but do not hear! You seek to understand! But do not feel! Rather.. You stand upon the alter of life and death close to a side.. One a worn body and the other a stomach-able lie.. Cast aside my hand and walk the darkest path.. Left in turn a worn faceless body..
This work comes to fathom the current state of my life, among the fact I have lost in damnation of much a time rather. But even more now have taken note of many events detailed by a song a friend to whom I can't even call one has said relates to me.
Spoiler: Song that is said to fit me.
Spoiler: Ultimate Gift
Rather I begin to fathom the pieces I could find. By which I would rather when confronted by one whom has stood upon the alter as I, I wouldn't begin to contemplate. Only till in turn allow myself to uphold the only sacrifice I can, by till which I shall be able to as till when I have stood upon Madison, I have come to see two outcomes of the same event. Rather processes of contemplation, rather one side has been able to accept the outcome as the other has been unable to, in which was resulted in the side of inability to have to fragment the mind. Whilst the side that was able to overcome only grew colder, under the weight. Rather an unfortunate event of such as, if I were able I would allow myself to uphold and rather take upon her state in exchange for my own. Rather the only gift I can give, is that of my own state.. Rather..
Brought about by a confrontation last night as of this post on 3/21/17 rather, I saw through many things leading to the ultimate gift, becoming both a fathomed sacrifice after the apparent journey and scars she bares, much as I have and will. Rather. @Mrs. Lynette, @Admiral Ansoa and I have have discussed this as many of these parts are word from word of what I said. Rather.
As many of seek to restore what once was, there can never be; rather the words unsaid the time pasted. Whilst we seek to remember we must always forget, that we are the weight of not memories but our journey; as trip not to be forgotten nor spoke of as we arrive upon the graceful touch of one last breathe we only then begun to relive the past for all it was. All words unsaid and all actions undone all coming to one in a mere moment as a life time past; before the greatest silence of all with one final breathe we abandon the damage catalyst we carry anew. Rather the end of the beginning to one day return, when our time is called upon. Many an unknown and many a fear we have to this, this event being one of the greatest upon our time within the confines of this planet. We rejoin with it, as we once came from it, our memories washed away and our catalyst written a new. But our place all but forgotten except for the few whom can bare our memories and carry us upon a new..
Spoiler: Catalyst No Longer
"Can you see them, can you really seem them. Not for the faces nor the bodies, but rather for the heart and soul; the very fathom of what ticks within neither good nor evil but never in balance. Rather almost as if confined to a near damnation searching for a mere fragment only to cling upon the barest shred of a catalyst. One catalyst barely held upon being considered human, but not considered an abomination nor a freak; rather merely an unknown variation. Fragment of both sides of a spectrum, having scoured the very confines of both these steel chains and existence. Only to be confined by blissful ignorance or by blood soaking of all that can be learned. Nevertheless never to be whole once more, but rather to be only human upon the words of a reaper and feeling of peace."
Separate names with a comma.