Haha I'm not into horror so worst collaboration if you picked me but somebody needs to do a biblical type story!
"Don't greet me like you know me." I said while glaring intently at the pretty blonde girl. She backed away slowly, throwing her hands up in defense all the while. 'That's no way to make friends' my mother would say. I'd love friends, but I'd scare them off... I mean I'm a very morbid person. The last time I saw a dead boy, I fished through the corpse and took the bones out. They went to good use! Now they hang over my bed.
(I'm doing this for fun Kay if I don't get picked cooleo haha this is knew for me but hey sounds like fun) Running is what I do. I live on the run. My home is nowhere, my life is a bunch of street signs and strange city's. Ever sense I escaped foster care I have run from people who want to 'help' and put me back in the system. It's no wonder I ended up in this ghost town lost and hungry. Sighing I looked around for any life any where. No one was out on the streets and I felt chills run up my spine. Looking down an alley I saw a shadow dance around the corner and a curten from the house next to me rustle as a pair of red eyes glared then vanished out of view. Where had my wandering feet finaly taken me? Would this be the end? Somewhere in my heart I welcomed it.
(I'll give this a shot.) My little sister was only seven when they buried her. I had a very vague knowledge of vodou back then, most of which came from my grandmother. My mother had discouraged her from talking about it, but her mother was much more stubborn than her. Consequentially, the intricacies of zombification as narrated by my grandma late into the nights are some of my earliest memories. We lived in a decent-sized house back then, but there were a lot of us - my mama and papa, my grandma, my uncle on my father’s side, and three cousins of my mother. Then, there was me and my sister - before they found her dead in a ditch in the rain. I had seen her lying there, but was too young to understand the vicious slashes, all over her neck and back, and the bloody indentations in her skull. I remember distinctly my papa, holding me against his chest; the tears streaming down his cheeks like a floodgate had been opened, as his body shook with the sobbing. Turning my head, my hair dripping wet in the humid rain, I looked to see the droplets of rain as they bounced off my sister’s corpse and slid coldly over the grooves of her back. She didn’t seem to mind.
( haha, I will give it a go) She always loved the villains in fairy-tale books, she always skipped to the part where the villain did something terrible, but she would skip the ending so she didn't have to read the villain getting defeated. Well, now this is real life... And she was the villain. Her long hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, the deep black colour being lit up by the warm fire placed in a white marble fire-place with glass ornaments lining the top. The room had an eerie feel to it, sort of like a grave yard in a movie.. But in a living room instead. She sat at her chipped desk with piles of paper and black fountain pens around her. Her hands rest firmly on her lap and, she was staring out into compleate blackness.. She loved the colour black, any other colour was to bright for her, but black is the darkest colour you can get, so she liked it. Black dress, black hair, black eyeshadow.. Shoes.. Make-up.. And even.. A black heart. ___________________________ Sorry it was a bit crappy, didn't plan it at all
They're all really good. Dx I'll decide tonight, so if you want to collaborate get some last minute entries in. xD
Yup. :3 But I've made a story like that quite recently on notes which I'm editing, so meh. :3 But cool idea. (This is Rani. Got my other I pod working. )