By the early 22nd Century the humans had degenerated somewhat. Even then, the Emperor, long since a cold-clad God would accost the mute creatures and present them with elaborate arguments and become enraged when their simple minds could neither understand his arguments nor argue correctly against them. He told me that this was what he did for fun back in the Dark Age of Technology, as if all the time he was willing them to develop some kind of intellectual capacity.
It was then I began to have my doubts about him. These were farm animals and the merit of the exercise eluded me, and then he became angry with me as if I should hare in his desire to 'uplift' the maggots and the worms around our feet. It was his own vain egotism. He taught me that word.
I was waiting behind a rock, I was afraid
In front of me I saw the stalker crawl in a scary manner and I was frozen in fear for stories had been told about them that were horrible
It was sniffing about on the ground and I wondered what it thought but it soon began to rotate its head around and I heard a slurping sound coming from what appeared to be its mouth
My heart became ice
It slowly turned towards the rock I was behind and so I panicked
I knelt down and picked up a large rock and threw it as far as I could
The stalker instantly turned around to the location which the stone fell on and then shook horribly
It skittered off and so I turned and ran
I ran as fast as I could until the point that my chest hurt, running from sand to stones across the desolate landscape, dodging the odd shrub that stood in my way as I tried to escape the lurking horror that I knew was behind me
Eventually I had to stop and so I slowed down and then looked behind me
The stalker wasn't there
I began to cry
It was foolish to have come out here, looking for buried treasure , my mother had warned me so and I had been hunted by one of them
Truly I had been given my just desserts
Just as I began to relax, climbing over the stones and rocks that littered the hill I was walking over I heard a slurping sound coming from my right and I turned, my ice heart whitened
From between rocks I spotted that white head and it let out a horrible cackle
It laughed and I was afraid
Red. That's about all I could see between the bandages sagging over my head, where once laid the portrait of a... beautiful young man. I wish I could remember every bit, every lost moment, but between trying to walk straight and reminiscing on dead memories, I'd rather the former. How would a sane man even come to a decision like that? To die in agony like an injured dog? Believe me when I tell you this, but in my long trek, the Mermaid's call, from myth, had become truth. Humanity, vocalizations, laughter, happiness. Whether or not I succumb to my injuries, my hands and feet will grind and tear away at the cold stone desert until I connect with my kin once again. I may be sealed underground where the maggots keep company, or maybe the rest have fallen ill as I have, having reached their own Nirvana.
>inb4 7/10 in bongland >inb4 I had that breakup on thanks giving day I didn't really care whom I spent those Christmas with and we had sex only once or twice
And you didn't love me, you never really cared for me. It was over for us.
Ow ow ow
Everything hurts
Where am I who put this shit on my face
SIGH! back to starving to death
What a second I smells something
Smells like... MEAT!
Runs through your computer screen and kills you
The cuck
He wore the bloodied period pad
She said it's the least an ally could do these days
And it's what a real man would do without hesitation
A real man like Tyrone from next door
It stank so....
But he did it and she gave him a pat on the shoulder
I am really proud of you sweety
There's still hope for men, huh?
He said nothing, just crouched and stumbled away
I am free to say nothing, am I not?
The stank made him dizzy, he had to lower his upper body a bit
his mind filled with plans on how next time
he would put up a bit more resistance
assert himself within reasonable bounds
he had to get to the toilet now
with nausea and no clear sight, it's easier to crawl in all fours
so you don't hurt yourself. It's only this one time after all.
A beast, hideous.
In torment, sang a hymn,
Symphony of solitude's prism.
Voice velvet, wove song,
Maw unseen, broken minds in throng,
Unholy siren of a yellow sea,
> He found flesh. > ... > She heard his notes.
Their meeting, paradox of existence,
Beauty.
Grotesqueness.
His song crept through her mind,
A melody, cruel and kind, > It pierced her sanity.
Yet she yearned for the tune, her tether to bind.
> Fallen into the labyrinth of a lullaby.
One song, once solace, now her bane,
Echoes within the pink flesh maze driven insane, > She was slain.
Thin claws kissing cold earth, he poised to dive,
Beneath the piss colored clay crust,
Tears bled to scarlet, from eyes that cried,
On white cloth, stained a morose red rust.
From grave, life arose,
Form of weed, melody enclosed,
From time spread, across land,
Form once a monster, now a rose.
Voice muted, in the rustling leaves,
Cold sigh of wind, melody weaves.
Crouched behind the only bus seat that hadn't melted away, I watched Sheila crawl along the street in a strange, arrhythmic fashion. These days she resembled more of a flea than a person, her once slender, almost boyish body overtaken by clumps of thick black fur. Her limbs, elongated and bony, carefully tip-toed on the endless dust that covered the asphalt. And of course, the rags carefully wrapped around her face; I told her that when the time was right, she could remove them and she'd be back to normal, like waking from a bad dream. Truth was, I didn't want her to have to see what was coming.
The Progress was quick, horrible, and I don't like to speak about it. The city is still in flames to this day. I was one of the few who took preparations and was left unaffected, but it didn't matter, because we weren't able to save anybody. Most just didn't see it coming. Sheila didn't. She hasn't stopped bleeding from her eyes, nose, and mouth since the third day, I can see fresh blood in her bandages even from over here. With unfathomable reflexes she grabbed a melon roach, and only a moment after sniffing it, she ripped it apart.
I don't know how long she'll live for. I thought by now she would've died from blood loss, or lack of sleep, or from hunger or dehydration, but no; Sheila continues to scamper around like a rat without pause, searching. She doesn't speak, growl, or hiss, but every once in a while, she'll scream. Sometimes after ripping an animal apart, or after jumping on a melted car, or after a building finally gives way and collapses. She'll scream for a few seconds, maybe in anger, maybe in pain, I'm not sure. But I think I'm sure of something. Somewhere within those alien screams that haunt my dreams and terrify my days, through all that unintelligible agony and pain, somehow, I can almost hear my name.
Vivid and evocative. I like the sense of despair and post apocalyptic vibe.
Melon roach
Last line is killer.
Red. That's about all I could see between the bandages sagging over my head, where once laid the portrait of a... beautiful young man. I wish I could remember every bit, every lost moment, but between trying to walk straight and reminiscing on dead memories, I'd rather the former. How would a sane man even come to a decision like that? To die in agony like an injured dog? Believe me when I tell you this, but in my long trek, the Mermaid's call, from myth, had become truth. Humanity, vocalizations, laughter, happiness. Whether or not I succumb to my injuries, my hands and feet will grind and tear away at the cold stone desert until I connect with my kin once again. I may be sealed underground where the maggots keep company, or maybe the rest have fallen ill as I have, having reached their own Nirvana.
The protag's determination is chilling and intriguing. I'm unsure about his kin but his journey is compelling.
I was waiting behind a rock, I was afraid
In front of me I saw the stalker crawl in a scary manner and I was frozen in fear for stories had been told about them that were horrible
It was sniffing about on the ground and I wondered what it thought but it soon began to rotate its head around and I heard a slurping sound coming from what appeared to be its mouth
My heart became ice
It slowly turned towards the rock I was behind and so I panicked
I knelt down and picked up a large rock and threw it as far as I could
The stalker instantly turned around to the location which the stone fell on and then shook horribly
It skittered off and so I turned and ran
I ran as fast as I could until the point that my chest hurt, running from sand to stones across the desolate landscape, dodging the odd shrub that stood in my way as I tried to escape the lurking horror that I knew was behind me
Eventually I had to stop and so I slowed down and then looked behind me
The stalker wasn't there
I began to cry
It was foolish to have come out here, looking for buried treasure , my mother had warned me so and I had been hunted by one of them
Truly I had been given my just desserts
Just as I began to relax, climbing over the stones and rocks that littered the hill I was walking over I heard a slurping sound coming from my right and I turned, my ice heart whitened
From between rocks I spotted that white head and it let out a horrible cackle
It laughed and I was afraid
The suspense was so immersive, but I wish it didn't cackle. That humanlike feature reduced my fear reading it, but I like the sensory descriptions.
By the early 22nd Century the humans had degenerated somewhat. Even then, the Emperor, long since a cold-clad God would accost the mute creatures and present them with elaborate arguments and become enraged when their simple minds could neither understand his arguments nor argue correctly against them. He told me that this was what he did for fun back in the Dark Age of Technology, as if all the time he was willing them to develop some kind of intellectual capacity.
It was then I began to have my doubts about him. These were farm animals and the merit of the exercise eluded me, and then he became angry with me as if I should hare in his desire to 'uplift' the maggots and the worms around our feet. It was his own vain egotism. He taught me that word.
>"Ayo get ahol this lil homie," now letting off the gas, the '64 easing into a creeping pace along the Martian Gulch service road. Something small crept along in the devil strip. >"What's wrong yo head cuz?" >Terrance brought the car to a stop. D-Money kept on. "Cuz, yo mug look like a tampon." Terrance geeked, put the car in park, lit a Black and Mild. "Huh, Huh. Get em D." >"This homie...This homie ass wearin a capuchin swimsuit," turning the radio down, "this homie built like a slim jim"
In the incomprehensible stygianopelagic etherinterstices, betwixt the indiscernible abyssanospheric nebulousness and the unutterably abysmoplutonic transmundanitude, there existed an unfathomably ineffable and enigmatical extraterrestrialiform entity, its manifestation an amalgamation of unfathomably unfathomablated onyxanodal obscuriosity and immeasurably serpentinatious undulating sinuousness, sinistrorsely meandering in an enigmatiform labyrinthoserpiginous fractaliformity. Hitherto concealed beneath an indiscernibly translucent incoheral drapery, akin to the cryptoglyphic polysealations of multianalogously ancient and unfathomacryptic exegenomonic cypherologies, a cryptolethean semblance of a formless phantasmagorical countenance diaphanously materialized, an enigmamorphous conflux of hyperdimensional geometrical enantiomorphs and indescribably incomprehensibiliographical hieroglyphicognostic picturizifications, evocatively evoking the supralingual synecdochic enigmatrophic evanescence of apocalyptopoeic preternatupersuperexcaliferentially ephemeropictiprimordially primogordial aeonosculptural ekphrasis. This serpenigmaestigmatical spectrodynamo traversephemeralized the impalpable astralabysmalscape, unextricatably ensnaring the cognitascinatory perioptic spheres of haplosensorifutilous serendipitants adventitiously transireverieing upon its inexplicacomplicated and abstruse enigmamation, obdurating them within the impenetrable inenigmaed abyssodimensional recessitations of cryptoarcana enthralliteromanticaciphersplendidufarious loreolusion, where cogitometaphantasmagoric resplendentillusions deliquesced and ultraconscioomnirevelatory precipitantatiously perimencapparitivevanescephenomenonendititated.
The creature crawled through the existence. It hurt like a motherfricker.
The crawler is a happy crawler
Happy Happy Happy
He crawls along and his eyes bleed
Such Happy Happy crawling
"where's my fricking juul?"
By the early 22nd Century the humans had degenerated somewhat. Even then, the Emperor, long since a cold-clad God would accost the mute creatures and present them with elaborate arguments and become enraged when their simple minds could neither understand his arguments nor argue correctly against them. He told me that this was what he did for fun back in the Dark Age of Technology, as if all the time he was willing them to develop some kind of intellectual capacity.
It was then I began to have my doubts about him. These were farm animals and the merit of the exercise eluded me, and then he became angry with me as if I should hare in his desire to 'uplift' the maggots and the worms around our feet. It was his own vain egotism. He taught me that word.
HORUS
he is i and i am he (literally)
I was waiting behind a rock, I was afraid
In front of me I saw the stalker crawl in a scary manner and I was frozen in fear for stories had been told about them that were horrible
It was sniffing about on the ground and I wondered what it thought but it soon began to rotate its head around and I heard a slurping sound coming from what appeared to be its mouth
My heart became ice
It slowly turned towards the rock I was behind and so I panicked
I knelt down and picked up a large rock and threw it as far as I could
The stalker instantly turned around to the location which the stone fell on and then shook horribly
It skittered off and so I turned and ran
I ran as fast as I could until the point that my chest hurt, running from sand to stones across the desolate landscape, dodging the odd shrub that stood in my way as I tried to escape the lurking horror that I knew was behind me
Eventually I had to stop and so I slowed down and then looked behind me
The stalker wasn't there
I began to cry
It was foolish to have come out here, looking for buried treasure , my mother had warned me so and I had been hunted by one of them
Truly I had been given my just desserts
Just as I began to relax, climbing over the stones and rocks that littered the hill I was walking over I heard a slurping sound coming from my right and I turned, my ice heart whitened
From between rocks I spotted that white head and it let out a horrible cackle
It laughed and I was afraid
Red. That's about all I could see between the bandages sagging over my head, where once laid the portrait of a... beautiful young man. I wish I could remember every bit, every lost moment, but between trying to walk straight and reminiscing on dead memories, I'd rather the former. How would a sane man even come to a decision like that? To die in agony like an injured dog? Believe me when I tell you this, but in my long trek, the Mermaid's call, from myth, had become truth. Humanity, vocalizations, laughter, happiness. Whether or not I succumb to my injuries, my hands and feet will grind and tear away at the cold stone desert until I connect with my kin once again. I may be sealed underground where the maggots keep company, or maybe the rest have fallen ill as I have, having reached their own Nirvana.
can someone post the picture of this with the russian/slav edited onto its face
Anyone know the name of this painting
"I'm a Scatman" by Zdzisław Beksiński
oldgay reddit humour
Just search beksinski
Chris Chan already did
this is Sonichu
Netflix adaptation
>inb4 7/10 in bongland
>inb4 I had that breakup on thanks giving day I didn't really care whom I spent those Christmas with and we had sex only once or twice
And you didn't love me, you never really cared for me. It was over for us.
Ow ow ow
Everything hurts
Where am I who put this shit on my face
SIGH! back to starving to death
What a second I smells something
Smells like... MEAT!
Runs through your computer screen and kills you
me at the zoo
The cuck
He wore the bloodied period pad
She said it's the least an ally could do these days
And it's what a real man would do without hesitation
A real man like Tyrone from next door
It stank so....
But he did it and she gave him a pat on the shoulder
I am really proud of you sweety
There's still hope for men, huh?
He said nothing, just crouched and stumbled away
I am free to say nothing, am I not?
The stank made him dizzy, he had to lower his upper body a bit
his mind filled with plans on how next time
he would put up a bit more resistance
assert himself within reasonable bounds
he had to get to the toilet now
with nausea and no clear sight, it's easier to crawl in all fours
so you don't hurt yourself. It's only this one time after all.
A beast, hideous.
In torment, sang a hymn,
Symphony of solitude's prism.
Voice velvet, wove song,
Maw unseen, broken minds in throng,
Unholy siren of a yellow sea,
> He found flesh.
> ...
> She heard his notes.
Their meeting, paradox of existence,
Beauty.
Grotesqueness.
His song crept through her mind,
A melody, cruel and kind,
> It pierced her sanity.
Yet she yearned for the tune, her tether to bind.
> Fallen into the labyrinth of a lullaby.
One song, once solace, now her bane,
Echoes within the pink flesh maze driven insane,
> She was slain.
Thin claws kissing cold earth, he poised to dive,
Beneath the piss colored clay crust,
Tears bled to scarlet, from eyes that cried,
On white cloth, stained a morose red rust.
From grave, life arose,
Form of weed, melody enclosed,
From time spread, across land,
Form once a monster, now a rose.
Voice muted, in the rustling leaves,
Cold sigh of wind, melody weaves.
Crouched behind the only bus seat that hadn't melted away, I watched Sheila crawl along the street in a strange, arrhythmic fashion. These days she resembled more of a flea than a person, her once slender, almost boyish body overtaken by clumps of thick black fur. Her limbs, elongated and bony, carefully tip-toed on the endless dust that covered the asphalt. And of course, the rags carefully wrapped around her face; I told her that when the time was right, she could remove them and she'd be back to normal, like waking from a bad dream. Truth was, I didn't want her to have to see what was coming.
The Progress was quick, horrible, and I don't like to speak about it. The city is still in flames to this day. I was one of the few who took preparations and was left unaffected, but it didn't matter, because we weren't able to save anybody. Most just didn't see it coming. Sheila didn't. She hasn't stopped bleeding from her eyes, nose, and mouth since the third day, I can see fresh blood in her bandages even from over here. With unfathomable reflexes she grabbed a melon roach, and only a moment after sniffing it, she ripped it apart.
I don't know how long she'll live for. I thought by now she would've died from blood loss, or lack of sleep, or from hunger or dehydration, but no; Sheila continues to scamper around like a rat without pause, searching. She doesn't speak, growl, or hiss, but every once in a while, she'll scream. Sometimes after ripping an animal apart, or after jumping on a melted car, or after a building finally gives way and collapses. She'll scream for a few seconds, maybe in anger, maybe in pain, I'm not sure. But I think I'm sure of something. Somewhere within those alien screams that haunt my dreams and terrify my days, through all that unintelligible agony and pain, somehow, I can almost hear my name.
Vivid and evocative. I like the sense of despair and post apocalyptic vibe.
Melon roach
Last line is killer.
The protag's determination is chilling and intriguing. I'm unsure about his kin but his journey is compelling.
The suspense was so immersive, but I wish it didn't cackle. That humanlike feature reduced my fear reading it, but I like the sensory descriptions.
> degenerated somewhat
Dreadful
There was man and he fricked it all up.
mum found the holocaust drawer
For sale: Degenerate art, never sold
>"Ayo get ahol this lil homie," now letting off the gas, the '64 easing into a creeping pace along the Martian Gulch service road. Something small crept along in the devil strip.
>"What's wrong yo head cuz?"
>Terrance brought the car to a stop. D-Money kept on. "Cuz, yo mug look like a tampon." Terrance geeked, put the car in park, lit a Black and Mild. "Huh, Huh. Get em D."
>"This homie...This homie ass wearin a capuchin swimsuit," turning the radio down, "this homie built like a slim jim"
best one yet
thanks : )
In the incomprehensible stygianopelagic etherinterstices, betwixt the indiscernible abyssanospheric nebulousness and the unutterably abysmoplutonic transmundanitude, there existed an unfathomably ineffable and enigmatical extraterrestrialiform entity, its manifestation an amalgamation of unfathomably unfathomablated onyxanodal obscuriosity and immeasurably serpentinatious undulating sinuousness, sinistrorsely meandering in an enigmatiform labyrinthoserpiginous fractaliformity. Hitherto concealed beneath an indiscernibly translucent incoheral drapery, akin to the cryptoglyphic polysealations of multianalogously ancient and unfathomacryptic exegenomonic cypherologies, a cryptolethean semblance of a formless phantasmagorical countenance diaphanously materialized, an enigmamorphous conflux of hyperdimensional geometrical enantiomorphs and indescribably incomprehensibiliographical hieroglyphicognostic picturizifications, evocatively evoking the supralingual synecdochic enigmatrophic evanescence of apocalyptopoeic preternatupersuperexcaliferentially ephemeropictiprimordially primogordial aeonosculptural ekphrasis. This serpenigmaestigmatical spectrodynamo traversephemeralized the impalpable astralabysmalscape, unextricatably ensnaring the cognitascinatory perioptic spheres of haplosensorifutilous serendipitants adventitiously transireverieing upon its inexplicacomplicated and abstruse enigmamation, obdurating them within the impenetrable inenigmaed abyssodimensional recessitations of cryptoarcana enthralliteromanticaciphersplendidufarious loreolusion, where cogitometaphantasmagoric resplendentillusions deliquesced and ultraconscioomnirevelatory precipitantatiously perimencapparitivevanescephenomenonendititated.