A book of imaginings. Add your paragraph.

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PostSun Jan 13, 2013 3:27 am » by Doogle


fatbastard2.0 wrote:Then suddenly I thought, "I need a bigger door."


:alien51: Ha! Or a monster proof draught (draft) excluder!
Sorry T32, please continue................

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PostTue Jan 15, 2013 2:36 am » by Toxic32


I continued reading, whilst the storm raged, unaware of the ebony black claws appearing under the crack of the door. I could feel the cold sound of madness, the images of darkness creeping into my thoughts. I must have been drugged. I was losing my mind. My reality was in turmoil, I was lost in someone else's mind. My sanity battled to gain control, I closed the book and took a deep breath. Why is this happening to me. What have I done, I'm going insane. I sat for a few minuets and pulled myself together. I remember small things, things that meant nothing to me. I need to read on. I opened the book and started to read. What was I supposed to understand? Why, what, were. The wind started blowing even harder and the page flipped over as if I was meant to read what was on the next page. My life should not have been wasted and you will be my sword. My people will not gather dust on the shelf of forgotten peoples. My name will be remembered as a beacon to follow. I will guide you through your future. Those words stood out.
I question everything. I don't believe anything I'm told or anything I see. Prove it, or fuck off. And that's not me I see in the mirror in the morning.

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PostTue Jan 15, 2013 2:51 am » by fatbastard2.0


I then decided to put the book down, close the window because the coke was being blown everywhere, pick up the phone and dial 999 (911) and scream, "get me a psychiatrist and a bigger door."
I am not now, nor have I ever been an oil trader, and neither has anyone on my behalf. I have never seen a barrel of oil, owned one, bought one, sold one, and neither has anyone on my behalf.

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PostTue Jan 15, 2013 4:23 am » by T0ne2


The line was dead. Thoughts rushed across my mind like a herd rampaging wild beasts. Had my madness overcome my sanity? Could I trust my very senses or is this all real?

I began to gather up the remaining coke from the floor and all the pieces of the book that kept falling out. I didn't know where I would go, but I had to go.. get help. The power is out, the phone is out and my candle has waxed itself off. In the darkness, the shadows help drive the madness one step further, it seems.

An intense light, like a spotlight from a helicopter begins to shine in from outside but I hear nothing but the rain. A draft flows in from under my bedroom door and I can see the light shine from the cracks of it. Frozen in fear, I try to gather myself because it seems my time has come. Whatever happens, I don't intend to let them take me alive.

The book, the door, the whore: like a cohesive, coagulated gel became mushed together in my mind. I had it all figured out, or so I thought. I threw everything in a sack and leaped through the window into the light. I was blinded but I made it across the field as my eyes adjusted. When I could finally see, there was no one around. I looked up and saw beams of light scanning the fields and one of them was coming right at me. I dropped into the tall grass and layed still. The light kept moving. A rustling around me began to grow in intensity as the wind picked up. I slowly got up and began to move when I was hit by a light beam. I'm blind again. Stumbling about, I trip on my sack and a cold rough hand takes firm grip of my leg. The claws griping and tearing my flesh as I struggled to free myself. As my sight adjusted, I realized I was not alone. I was surrounded by someone, or something.

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PostTue Jan 15, 2013 11:32 pm » by Toxic32


I was surrounded by someone, or something. I kicked out at the ripping fingers I swung the bag with all my strength, I heard thud and a piercing scream. I scrambled to my feet and kept on running. My heart was pounding, I was gasping for air. I can't stop not matter what was chasing me, I thought. I knew I had to keep running. I was sweating with fear. I can't even remember how I got back to my bedroom.My mind raced to make sense of all the events that happened to me in a short space of time. It must be the coke, I thought.
It was only then a warming calm came over me. To my left I could see in front of me a bright blue light in the distance. I turned and headed towards it. A safe place, people, something to keep me focused I thought. What ever had been chasing me must have given up. The weight of the book in my bag connecting with what ever it was chasing me had saved my life.

As I got closer to the light I could see tiny bright balls, or was it flashing globs heading towards me through the darkness. Long probing fingers of light streaming towards me flashing over my head, making strange zipping noises as they past over me. Some of them hit the floor in front of me and were bouncing up and tumbling away from me in all directions. I must be still tripping, I thought. Just at that moment I fell and hit the ground with a thud.
I rolled over on my back still gasping for breath. The streaking lights zipping past me like fireworks. Then it dawn on me what the lights were. Tracer rounds probing the night and looking for me as the target. How the fuck did I get into this situation.
I question everything. I don't believe anything I'm told or anything I see. Prove it, or fuck off. And that's not me I see in the mirror in the morning.

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PostWed Jan 16, 2013 12:47 am » by fatbastard2.0


Then I realised, it's not tracer lights, because, Whilst gaurding the book, as I left the house I picked up the last 2lbs of cocaine. I ran to the motorway (highway) and was picked up by a tall fat stumpie one armed toothless bald scarfaced broken nosed limping one eyed tatooed shoeless one ear'd guy with a Harley Davidson fuck off bike. The tracer lights happened when he crashed into Glasgow Airport Runway No1. He lost his other arm, well not exactly. I have the arm at my house in a freezer.
I am not now, nor have I ever been an oil trader, and neither has anyone on my behalf. I have never seen a barrel of oil, owned one, bought one, sold one, and neither has anyone on my behalf.

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PostThu Jan 17, 2013 2:54 am » by Toxic32


fatbastard2.0 wrote:Then I realised, it's not tracer lights, because, Whilst gaurding the book, as I left the house I picked up the last 2lbs of cocaine. I ran to the motorway (highway) and was picked up by a tall fat stumpie one armed toothless bald scarfaced broken nosed limping one eyed tatooed shoeless one ear'd guy with a Harley Davidson fuck off bike. The tracer lights happened when he crashed into Glasgow Airport Runway No1. He lost his other arm, well not exactly. I have the arm at my house in a freezer.


It was only then that I realised I was in a mad house. My thoughts were not my own. My mind was in complete turmoil. I took the sheet from the bed and twisted it until it was a rope. All my life I was under an illusion. What I held as good and and free, was in essence nothing more than the icing on the the cake.No real depth, no real understanding, nothing but a superficial reality, a complete lack of empathy with life. No more than a scratch on the spot that was itching. A laugh, a throw away comment. No feeling, no commitment. My storey is at an end. I need to leave this place. I have no option but to end it all. I took the sheet and tied it over the pipes that ran over the corner of the room . I thought about my mum and dad. How would they think of me. Would they understand..No matter. I pulled the sheet around my neck. It was smooth and comfortable, quiet soft really. Inviting,almost compelling. One last wish, I thought. Nothing came into my mind. I slept forward.............
I question everything. I don't believe anything I'm told or anything I see. Prove it, or fuck off. And that's not me I see in the mirror in the morning.


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