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The Unquiet Past and Present, Pt. 2The Unquiet Past and Present, Pt. 2 by mmpratt99
Chapter 10--The Unquiet Past and Present
Year of the Hound
Badger and Hare Books & Tea Shoppe, Eskaŕd
30th of Oct. 2015
It was now nine o’ clock and the storm continued on unabated. Lightning forked and crackled through the churning black sky, while the ground and window panes reverberated with booming thunder. Unpaved paths were awashed with deep slushy mud and puddles, while swollen streams and rivers raced along the gutters, overwhelming the drains and cisterns.
The only light to be seen at the Badger and Hare Books & Tea Shoppe was a nearby street light that flickered its dim glow upon the now darkened windows and deserted street.
The vast reading room now hung with heavy silence apart from the rain outside and the soft sounds of small fauna and cats prowling the floor and shelves. Eventually all nocturnal activity ceased as every inhabitan turned its head to stare down the
The Unquiet Past and Present, Pt. 1The Unquiet Past and Present, Pt. 1 by mmpratt99
Ch 7--What happened Before
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.
- - -William Shakespeare "Hamlet"
English playwright and poet
(1564 – 1616)
From the Journal Entry of Kes Allyntahl
The house I had lived in was one of the oldest in town, and I knew this because despite new ownership, the locals still referred to the place after the original occupants--the Herons.
Heron Manor, as it was called, looked more like a frog than a heron. The house had none of the angular grace and spiky dignity of a heron. It was a low and rounded house with white plaster walls and a roof of thatched reed, plopped on a low hill above a marshy stream. Whoever had built the house had not liked straight lines, the corners were rounded as were the windows and a South facing bay window. It was an humorous house, with a certain f
The Last Day of October--Bookstore HorrorThe Last Day of October--Bookstore Horror by mmpratt99
The Last Day of October--Bookstore Horror
From the Personal Log of Dr. Meldrek Jellidar Akern
This is a true account of the loathsome horror from beyond the grave I and several others encountered that stormy evening back in October of the year of the Hound. Ever since that ghastly episode, these questions kept turning over in my mind like falling autumn leaves: what horrific force could have possessed that wretched Gentry girl to come back from beyond the Veil, from beyond her final resting place in her land of exile? And what was she trying to do exactly?
Faerie as well as the Underworld had set firm boundaries between the living and those who had passed over the
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The Basement of DoomCh. 1--Afterwards
I used to have the same recurring nightmare, especially during the summer months. I was back in that strange basement, wearing that same red dress and gold-beaded scarf. I no longer have that outfit, I got rid of it on advice of a shaman which I’ll tell you about much later. Well, back to my dream. I found myself in that ghastly basement again, in that mirrored hallway. The only difference was that I was behind those long narrow mirrors, slowly walking this long corridor, its plank walls greening with moss and mold, doors and windows broken by vandals.
The boundary between indoors and outdoors no long applied here. There was ivy sprouting from every shattered window, and the ceiling had mostly collapsed into piles of rotting lichened beams and roofing tiles that were themselves slowly being consumed by vegetation.
At first, everything was okay. In spite of all the apparent creepiness, I never felt ill at ease while picking through the ruins of this place. It was a bit like what I imagined exploring some ancient ruins would be...more like you were in a strange kind of nature park rather than a horror movie. Then, like in any horror movie, the atmosphere quickly changed. Bliss unexpectedly gave way to soul-chilling dread.
Rounding a corner (the number of doors between corners varied in a random fashion. There were no numbers on the doors or in the corridors), I was suddenly met by a cold rush of wind. It whistled and hissed through an abysmal landscape of rusty, dilapidated buildings lit by a reddish-purple sky. Cold phosphorescence gleamed from the deep snow drifts.
I gazed at the bleak scene in utter bewilderment. The air was now thick and choking with the smell of petrol fumes and burning ozone.
Movement flicked in my peripheral vision followed shortly by the crunch of snow underfoot. Then my skin began to crawl when They finally emerged from the shadows.
I looked at Them. I pondered Them. I wondered why They keep showing up even after I left that house. Were They still wanting to be my protectors or was there a much sinister reason?
“What do you...?” was as far as I got before the whole scene faded and I was back in my room at the boardinghouse.
To be continued in The Basement of Doom--Ch. 2--An Explanation
|I'm doing this donation thing partially as an experiment and partially because I want to keep my premium membership and not have to rely on my dad's paypal in order to pay the dA bill.|
I'm not really sure how the whole points thing actually works.
Current Residence: The Northern Coast of California where all the hippies and tree-sitters are.|
Favourite genre of music: Classical music, Jazz, the Blues, Heavy Metal, Celtic.
Favourite photographer: Tsuya Pratt, my mom. She had displayed her work at galleries and had sold some artwork.
Favourite style of art: Pencil and ink drawing.
Operating System: Switched to X/p, but now all I need is a good color printer
MP3 player of choice: I haven't got one!
Shell of choice: Conch
Wallpaper of choice: All natural wood, I hate wallpaper!
Skin of choice: My own.
Favourite cartoon character: Hawk Woman, cause she can fly and kick ass!
Personal Quote: "All the good ones were taken already!"