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The most horrifying thing right now to me is this silence my social anxiety is crippling!!!!!

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no one understands magnets. they're cold shells of charge. heartless. the way they draw each other in. always seeking one another. their truest desire. always looking for contact. they're kept apart by an invisible rift no two same sides will ever meet. like a twin looking for their dead other half.

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I made flesh 💪💪💪

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I still see it. In the dark corners of my room. In my dreams, drifting in and out of consciousness. Standing at the end of my bed. Out the corner of my eye. And it's always watching me. Just staring with those white, unblinking eyes. And that 🤬 smile.

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Mrs Mary-Anne Mathews was the epitome of upper class suburbia; her dinner parties were ones of civilised envy.

“I do say, your darling children could be mistaken for cherubs,” her neighbours would remark “you’ve simply outdone yourself”

“Don’t be silly,” Mary would retort, “now tuck in before they get cold”

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Why are we scared of the dark? It’s something we see everyday, it’s not as if we don’t close our eyes to get rest. If anything it’s something that brings us comfort. We shouldn’t run away from it and figure out how to accept it.

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finally after hours of grasping at conciseness, i was awake. i breathed and a pulsating pain in my left leg set in. the pain grew and it made me vomit. forcing its way through my body it punched through my mouth, so hard that my eyes snapped open.

and there stood a figure.

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She is utterly perfect. I adore her pale, flawless complexion and her dark, red lips. Her body grows colder everyday but, in her perfect kindness, she stays silent. She knows this is best. She’s safe from the world. And, in her still, un-beating heart, she loves me for it.

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*based on a true story*
I woke up. The thick drool dribbled down my chin. Pins and needles faintly tingled in my arm, but I ignored it and rolled over laboriously, the fat wobbling and finally landing with a thud on the other side of the bed. I felt a hand brush my face, and I screamed…
~Kati and Jazzy :)

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Paper scraped under the fingernail. The boy’s eyes rolled to his eyelids as his throat closed and opened, his morning cornflakes hurling out as a 5 inch nail came with it, running horizontally against each side of the inside of his throat, disassembling it into 4 strips of flesh. The boy was dead. But whose fingernail still scraped the paper?

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Amalgamated forms flickered from focus like fire in my peripheral vision. I've always loved the comforting warmth of a fire. Lifting the heavy timber into the gargantuan flesh pit delivered the satisfaction of a job well done. The screaming resounded like a solemn hymn of domestic tranquility. Soon, it will stop.

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A flash of beak and her eye was running out of its socket, hot and slow like egg. Oily feathers and noise exploded from her hands as she fell from the fireplace. The soot covered raven filled the room with croaking laughter, free of the chimney and hungry no more.

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Stinking putrid bodies surrounded me. I writhed in the mass of once-people. The crowd unglulated in melancholic dismay. I was so close to the escape I could feel it, although as I ran out of breath and my nose filled increasingly with the horrible stench of ulcereours wounds and my mouth tasted of sweat and flesh I finally came to the realisation that I would soon disappear into the abyss like all the people before me.