Scary Stories

Because when you rolled on the random dungeon chart for doors, that's what came up.

 

Seriously, Arthgon, you're really bad at this and it has nothing to do with your grasp on the English language.

 

Grakelin: Sorry, about this. I wanted to change that post (I was half-asleep when I wrote that.) but it seems that I was too late. Because you already wrote your post. I am also a bit out of shape with making one line for a horror story.

Through the combination of alcohol and meds, he suddenly realized that he was not alone. 'Who is there? he asked.

 

(Yea well, don't feel bad. We all have years of experience with this and me and Graklin tend to write horror stories togheter on msn, on line at a time.)

"Noone" a voice of utter darkness whispered in his ear. Terror surged through his bones as he turned around only to face himself.

 

His body was numb, and his brain knew he had nowhere to run. He took the empty bottle of vodka and smashed it on "his" face. The doppelganger fell, and The Last Man watched him for what seemed like forever. Then he retreated to a corner of the padded room and sat there, sleep beckoning to him as he struggled to maintain consciousness in the face of so much alcohol. As he lost consciousness, his doppelganger slowly stood up and faced him.

 

Then he died.

 

However, before he died, he spake "Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

 

When he regained consciousness, the doppelganger was dead, just in front of him. Also, he was no longer in a padded room, but still in...somewhere. It was slippery and dark. His bellybutton itched. He went to scratch it and recoiled; there was a long, tendril-like structure coming out of his abdomen, attached to a mass of blood vessels and reminded him of the unspeakable horror. The same structure could be seen trailing from his doppelganger, along with another fleshy blood balloon. He began to kick at the stretchy walls of his dark, cramped prison. He heard a muffled voice saying, "Oh, it's moving!"
He tried to scream, but no sound came out. He suddenly realized he didn't have to breathe, which was good, because he might've drowned in the mysterious liquid surrounding him...

 

+1 death to any line.

 

One cannot append a death quality to a post until his post count is 4,000 or greater.

 

I was hoping he'd say "Then his mother had a late-term abortion and he died."
But, I guess abortion is taboo even for obvious trolling.

 

Then he died.

 

"I seem to be dying quite a bit..." thought The Last Man.
It would seem that he was suffering some form of immortality. The variability of his lives lead him to believe that he wasn't simply "waking up" or being "reborn," but that his consciousness was traveling to different incarnations of himself through a possibly infinite chain of parallel realities. However, the only way to test this was to die as many times as possible, which he wasn't too keen on considering it really, really hurt. Something wanted him to die and was being very blunt about it. But it couldn't keep him dead. It was as though he was in a videogame or movie, like a much less interesting Highlander.

 

Hey Chief, you okay? You playin' corpse or you puttin' the blinds on the Dusties? I thought you were a deader for sure.

deader for sure

deader for sure

d乇ader ｷor 丂ure

d乇ﾑd乇尺 ｷo尺 丂u尺乇

ﾘou尺 ﾶoｲん乇尺 丂ucズ丂 cocズ丂 ﾉ刀 ん乇ﾚﾚ

 

Suddenly, pain. All pain. No relief. PAIN! NOTHING! BUT! PAIN!

He woke up in a bed, as from a bad dream, but the pain a memory so real it still hurt, even though he could see no damage. PAIN! It hit his brain, but then it were gone. Slowly he fell back at the bed.

 

"What a night." the man said to himself. He carefully stood up and walked slowly to the wash-basin. That's because everything was still spinning. After washing his head with cold water he felt much better, but cold fear was gnawing to his heart. Was his dreams that vivid that the pain was real?

 

Then he realised that it wasn't cold fear that gripped is heart alone. It was cold, real cold. He started to hack his teeth due to the cold, he tried to warm himself under the water, but it froze at his bare skin. When he lost his sense of legs he noticed he fell over, covered in ice. As soon as he hit the floor he felt himself shatter in a thousand pieces.

 

"How am I still here? This can't be real!"
He was in pieces on the floor of his bathroom, consciousness divided between the multitude of rapidly thawing pieces of what once was a singular man. He heard a booming laugh.
"Now, I know how to make you truly suffer..."
Reality shimmered, and he was back in one piece. He was also lying on a hospital bed with an IV in his arm, as well as a painful catheter. He caught his reflection in a far window; he was old. Very old. A young doctor came into his room.

 

Then he died.

 

The man was shocked that the doctor died, and called for the nurse.