Post by Lord Greevon on Jun 9, 2012 4:28:56 GMT -5
It's four in the morning, I'm just writing literally anything that comes to mind. Why? Because I'm fucking Admin, that's why! ANd because you internet ghosts that don't exist, but I pretend monitor my every movement, can go fuck yourselves.
Seriously, though, (reassuring myself here) I do not have any sort of paranoia or disorder. I'm writing here for the convenience of not having to pick up a pencil and paper, also I don't have to mess with erasing.
Anyways, here you go little ghosts:
It's been so long since the last "falling from the cliff" happened. How long exactly, I cannot tell. It's a peculiar event, the details of which I do not care to explain in depth for fear of losing the fleeting grasp on reality I have now, but I am compelled to document it. Much as a man stranded on a remote island, his only companion the endlessly vast ocean, is driven to seek refuge in some sort of companionship with the inanimate or unliving, I am compelled to account the strange happenings in hope of connecting with some sort of outside force. I know these papers will most certainly never be read by a human being, and I shudder at the thought of whatever other half-sentient things might become aware of the emotion and language expressed herein.
This "falling from the cliff" first happened to me when I was a young man and lived in a small town along the coast of France. Taken in by distant relatives after the passing of my mother, my father being of a sort which is rendered stupid by drunkenness as his natural state, I came to live in a country in which I knew very little of the common language and with people whom I barely knew, but acted as if I had been a part of their home for all their lives. It was just the three of us, my aunt and uncle and I, in a stupendously large estate house which was in such a state of disrepair that I often fancied it to be an ancient castle that had been abandoned for centuries, undisturbed until the moment I, a brave adventurer, came upon it with the task of slaying whatever horrible monsters lay within or to seize some magnificent treasure held in a vault older than time itsself. It was, more often than not, my aunt, a terrible frail-looking woman who used a cane to steady herself, as well as to beat me with, who tore me from my childish fantasies and yelled at me, partly in English so I could understand, and partly in French to more accurately express her dissatisfaction. My uncle, although snapping me from my daydreams during mealtimes on the odd occasion, would leave me alone unless he had a pressing matter with me which was always very rare indeed. My uncle was more like some untouchable figure represented by a misty physical form than a person as I almost never saw him and whenever I did he still gave the impression of being absent.
Living in that house in France was the loneliest time of my life and I rightfully beleive it to be the reason the "falling" happened.
I need to get to sleep, so I'll be finishing this one tomorrow. Really, these notes before and after the story are just for Sam in case she (for some unkown reason!) decides to check here at five in the freaking morning on some random date as today.
Seriously, though, (reassuring myself here) I do not have any sort of paranoia or disorder. I'm writing here for the convenience of not having to pick up a pencil and paper, also I don't have to mess with erasing.
Anyways, here you go little ghosts:
It's been so long since the last "falling from the cliff" happened. How long exactly, I cannot tell. It's a peculiar event, the details of which I do not care to explain in depth for fear of losing the fleeting grasp on reality I have now, but I am compelled to document it. Much as a man stranded on a remote island, his only companion the endlessly vast ocean, is driven to seek refuge in some sort of companionship with the inanimate or unliving, I am compelled to account the strange happenings in hope of connecting with some sort of outside force. I know these papers will most certainly never be read by a human being, and I shudder at the thought of whatever other half-sentient things might become aware of the emotion and language expressed herein.
This "falling from the cliff" first happened to me when I was a young man and lived in a small town along the coast of France. Taken in by distant relatives after the passing of my mother, my father being of a sort which is rendered stupid by drunkenness as his natural state, I came to live in a country in which I knew very little of the common language and with people whom I barely knew, but acted as if I had been a part of their home for all their lives. It was just the three of us, my aunt and uncle and I, in a stupendously large estate house which was in such a state of disrepair that I often fancied it to be an ancient castle that had been abandoned for centuries, undisturbed until the moment I, a brave adventurer, came upon it with the task of slaying whatever horrible monsters lay within or to seize some magnificent treasure held in a vault older than time itsself. It was, more often than not, my aunt, a terrible frail-looking woman who used a cane to steady herself, as well as to beat me with, who tore me from my childish fantasies and yelled at me, partly in English so I could understand, and partly in French to more accurately express her dissatisfaction. My uncle, although snapping me from my daydreams during mealtimes on the odd occasion, would leave me alone unless he had a pressing matter with me which was always very rare indeed. My uncle was more like some untouchable figure represented by a misty physical form than a person as I almost never saw him and whenever I did he still gave the impression of being absent.
Living in that house in France was the loneliest time of my life and I rightfully beleive it to be the reason the "falling" happened.
I need to get to sleep, so I'll be finishing this one tomorrow. Really, these notes before and after the story are just for Sam in case she (for some unkown reason!) decides to check here at five in the freaking morning on some random date as today.