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The Thoughts of The Strange
THis is where i pour all my strangeness out into the open, it's a magic place of complete randomness that usually makes no sense, and yet i feel compelled to tell you to look... at your own risk!
Ink Dot Boys story...thus far )my favorite band(
Chapter 1 (UN_ITE)
I dreamt that I had dream. Or was it real? Had this all been…real?

Time circles over the two of us, like weeping stardust falling gently to the ground. For in solemn sheets of lonely whispers, they dare not touch each other.

Now, I dwell here. Surrounded by a prison of my own accord, it is my own self-inflicted punishment.

The angels do not sing for me here, and their voices are only a distant cry within clouded thoughts which I cannot let go….nor would I. The a capella of my demons is like sweet music, and bitter screaming all together in an opera made for no one.

This is the end. I shall remain here. WaIting for death, waiting for content. Blue and white, my ememy and I.
Those around me live, and fly; unaware of the horror, of the obsolete…that was my tattered story. The world has forgotten.

Huddled in my own agony, I weep for, and remember the past.

Chapter 2 (THE DREAM)
It is the mid of October, long ago, and my eyes pierce the lifeless shadows of the hovering clouds; grey and bewilderingly lustful in their solemn intentions.
It was dark that evening. Very strange that it would seem to become of us that light had died, the closer I became to home. I am 10, in a world not quite like your own…we have two moons, and dust that secretes from the sky like the tears of angels. We can see you.
I looked around, my eyes scanning the surfaces of the sunset, and the moon gently caressing it's lonely hours of domination to come. I was at sea, on a dreAming vessel. Quiet, lost.
Feeling my footsteps get closer together, I picked up my pace now, and deep blue colors swallow the orange as I finally reached the house…on ____street 1. Bells for the hours struck in the distance, and I realized that I had come home late again.
My mother and father had left a note on the kitchen with my supper in the oven…so I ate it and peeked up the staircase to just catch their lamp fading out for the night.
The windows in what was once my room, were round and abstract. They made everything look like paintings on the outside, and you might see life in art.
I spent a lot of time looking out windows, dreaming of what it would be like to look at myself without a mirror.
The house was quiet…not a sound, not a whisper. I could see things in their places…lifeless, whispering.
Nothing to do, nothing to say, I fell asleep again in my clothes.

For reasons I cannot explain, I awoke with a sudden fright.

Through my window, my eyes beheld a strange dark figure in the night.

Standing in the street, the figure was looking at me. I thought I was dreaming. My heart pounded in my chest as the figure stood. I moved closer to the window…and I noticed that not a single lamp was lit in the houses around ours…it was utter darkness.

Standing rigid and hauntingly thin, I saw that it was a man.

I crept my eyes to edge of the window, the figure did not move. But somehow, he had come closer.
The shadows around him danced. His features were that of nightmares; cartoonish. His eyes had no color, completely white, and seemed to pierce my soul.
Time stood still. Breathing became paced. I was slipping into a dream…

Before slipping into unconsciousness, I remembered his smile…a cold winter where the demons are eating eachother.

Chapter 3 (CIRCLES)
Monsters were real here. I could hear them, and smell them for the first time. It was like sweet perfume and impending icicles; so delicately it seemed, they had pulled me into their world, like an innocence stolen, raped, and pillaged.

There was darkness all around me, with slightly dancing light from wariness; caressing the dripping sounds of waTer falling.

I opened my eyes a little more, feeling a cold wind against my face, regaining consciousness. Flashes from the windows, old ships and lost souls…

As my eyes adjusted, I could see and feel now, that my hands were tied by a rope that I could not possibly get free from. I was also carefully seated down in an old chair.

Calming myself, I look around at my environment.

Full of ghosts, soft light, and old manuscripts…the room felt haunted and sensual, like a lover that wants to kill you. Red candles were spread all around, and I could not help but notice how damp it was inside. And, although there was a slight chill, it was distinctively warm as well…an unbalanced balance of stars and blood.

There were five candles in a row on the table across from me, as were five books, all opened and willing. Was I to be visited by someone or something?

Strangely, I noticed that although my hands had been unmercifully tied together, my feet were not, and I was not bounded to the chair at all. Un-convincingly, I was free to look and move around at my own free will.

Peering a little in front of me, I saw a door in the darkness, hauntingly small, and dissonant in design. I walked through it with an apprehension of self-denial, self doubt and yet total vulnerability of what was to come.

Around the corner…a series of corridors awaited, and it appeared to me, that I was in some sort of demonic maze. Lustful, and pregnant with seemingly heightened ceilings and hallways.

I walked on, feeling my way across stone floors, and guided solely by soft firelight torches. Turning several times slowly, I could have sworn, that I was being watched; by crouching eyes in the distant fumes of the looming darkness. Ever waiting, ever pressing, evermore.

Finally, and almost immediately, I came upon another section of the maze…five doors all lined up in a row. All of them were red, like ancient water and roses.

I paused for what seemed ages, and I realized that I would have to choose one of these doors to walk through. I remember the fear. I remember the colors, like I was fighting an ancient war of immense importance, immense sacrifice for my own life, my own self-perseverance.

I decided to choose the door in the middle. It had a face on the front that looked like death. A frozen face that slightly smiled. This was the only door I could choose. Stepping through, I was greeted by three rings, and the fiction of an empire. Horror.


Questing: Toscano Jacket by Dernier*Cri
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My birthday is January 11th. :O Give me the Toscano Jacket by Dernier*Cri for my birthday? D: Please?

Damsel Diabolique
Community Member
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