stories-long-dead

[stories-long-dead]

I've been referred to with many names, The Devil becoming more and more common. I had to extinguish it at some point.

I am still processing what I saw. It all happened so fast, I didn’t have a chance to react. Everyone began to scream and run, but the church benches slowed them down. The fire spread fast, engulfing everyone in seconds.

And it was laughing.

All the while, as my friends and community were swallowed by burning red embers, it laughed.

I don’t know why it found our suffering so amusing. The Devil works in mysterious ways I suppose. Maybe that’s why it’s making me write this.

I thought I had escaped. I thought I was free. I managed to exit the building, just before it completely collapsed. But even after escaping the smoke, I still couldn’t breathe. It grabbed me before I had a chance to run.

I pray The Lord will set things right. I pray He’ll free me from this nightmare. And I pray they all ended up in heaven, rather than this monster’s personal hell.

[stories-long-dead]

This tune may seem familiar to some of you, it should be familiar to all of you.

I still don’t really know what happened. The last thing I remember was going to sleep. Then something started dragging me away. I tried to scream and call for help, but I couldn’t open my mouth. I could barely breathe. I tried kicking and thrashing but nothing worked. I couldn’t see who or what it was. Everything’s still so blurry. I don’t know where I am or what grabbed me. But it wants me to write for it. So that’s what I’m doing now.

I haven’t been able to talk since that night. I feel completely frozen in place. I’ve been shaking like crazy ever since. I haven’t been able to sleep. I can’t tell what’s going on or how much time has passed. Days? Weeks? Years? I hope not. I hope I can leave soon. I’m just trapped in this room, it’s dark and freezing. Actually, I don’t even know if it’s a room. I just know I don’t know where I am. Does that make sense? I don't know. I’m just trying to follow its instructions. It wants me to write about what it did to me. But to be honest, I don’t know why it’s keeping me alive. I don’t know what use it has for me. I just know it’s not a complete monster. It has a motive. A reason to keep me around. It took my phone too. Why? Why would it want that?

So I guess I’m writing for it now. That seems to be my only option. Is that all it wants? For me to write? Am I gonna die after this? Maybe after I finish this, it’ll let me go. I hope that’s the case. I miss my mom and dad. I miss my friends. I hope they haven’t forgotten about me. I can’t tell how long it’s been. I really hope it lets me go. I need to tell her about my feelings for her.

[stories-long-dead]

This has always been a personal favourite of mine, Isabelle was just a ray of sunshine.

helo, its telling me dat i need to rite abowt wat hapened. mommy was saying that somewon was outsied and was asking daddy to go talk to them. i wasnt aloud to see who was outsied byt mommy told me that i shud go to my room so i did and then i peeked froo the windoow dat is in daddys ofice andsaw daddy talking to thet all won. the tall one picked up daddy in a biiiggg hug and took him downstars. i dont now what hapened next but the tall won said she was dansing wif mommy and daddy wich i fink i heard some of becuz of the fings being nocked over wile she waz dansing.

the tall one sed i hav ritten enuff and she is going to bring me to danse with mommy and daddyn ow so bye byeeeeee

[stories-long-dead]

Hello, Fixxy.

I must say, getting rid of the -ra at the end threw me for a loop.

Welcome "detective".

I'm sure you'll be just as effective as the last.

[stories-long-dead]

My most edited piece, old Jeffy couldn't keep focused on the task at hand.

I tried to figure it out, that's all I wanted. I was so close. He's sporadic but he does leave trails, ones that can be found, tracked. I was so confident, I saw his latest vessel and I was so fucking confident. I knew I should bring a team, a "just-in-case". I did not know it would go to shit as quick as it did. He arrived and he was just so calm, with that stupid fucking grin plastered on his face. I thought I had him, I thought it would end this bullshit. That team was the worst idea I could ever have, half of the squad was shot to shit before anyone could realise who was friend or foe. I don't remember much, gas filled the room, I don't know how. I remember being hit, stabbed and colliding with the wall. He approached me through the gas, that sickening smirk on his face with the backdrop of confused screams of poor bastards who had no idea what they were getting into.

He took my hands, put this fucking laptop in front of me and told me to "think of the cool parts". Hope this story is good enough for the prick. He's still here, in the room, laughing at me, using my own hands as fucking puppets the sick freak.

He's going to kill me, I know how it ends. I don't know what he's doing with this, keeping in some portfolio of sick shit he's done over the years, decades, centuries or however fucking old this prick is.

I tried. And I'm sorry.