Deakin Anime Club

[krystal_tearz]

Hope people are okay with me spamming up some of my writing here,
I need a forum where I can post up stuff and (possibly) get some creative criticism/ find out if its good or bad (up to you lol)
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"If I fail, try again. Live and die by the pen" ~ Epik High

[krystal_tearz]

The story which I have to tell is so fantastically surreal that I hardly dare even to hope that anyone will ever believe it. Worse yet, what if they don’t believe me and brand me as an imposter? What if they see me as a hopeless, faithless blackguard (yes, blackguard, for though I am a woman, that is precisely why my story is all the more likely to be doubted, and that is the name that the drinking men shall use for me as they sit and talk o’er my story whilst drinking of their ale) who wishes to destroy the seemingly clean reputation of a fellow human? I realize that it is a risk I must be willing to take, because believed or not (indeed that is of little consequence), the first and most important issue is that this story be told, and it is to that purpose that I write these pages now.
For ten long years this tale has not been told because the menacing danger had gone away and left me alone. But now he is back, he has returned, whether to prey again upon me or to find a new victim, I know not. All I know is that he must be stopped at whatever cost is necessary.

It all began ten years ago, on a day much like this one, cold and wintery with snow swirling and a seeping dampness, which not even the thickest of fur coats keep out. I was returning home in a snowstorm, having been to market during the eye of the storm in the hopes of topping up my stores before I was snowed in permanently. I lived with my brother and sister at the end of the village – our parents had passed away some years before and had been gracious enough to leave us their humble cottage, which we did our best to maintain as a warm, inviting home.
It was hard to see in this storm of snow that whirled and twirled its way about me (I had severely mistimed my venture out of doors and was now caught in the second half of the storm). Every direction I turned to looked as if it were a white wall of snow, I felt trapped. I lost all sense of direction, and my courage was beginning to fail me when I turned around and saw him.

I did not recognize him. I had never seen him before – a stranger, in a snow storm and yet, he acted as if he knew the lay of the land, as if he were one of us – born on the land and one with the land that we loved and lived on. He did not speak and I remember thinking how odd it was that he should say no word. He merely offered me his hand and trapped me with his eyes. His eyes were deep and dark, mysterious and captivating. It was hard to look away from his hypnotizing gaze and it was hard even to remember to breathe. He looked at me in a way that no man had done so before – he looked at me as if I were a prize possession and as if he were offering me not just his hand, but also a kingdom. It is hard to describe and I fear that many will take me for a fool. Be that as it may, I swear that this account of the happenings will be true, every last word.

I looked about me, momentarily glaring at the whiteness around me that made me so dependent upon such a man, stranger as he was, and then giving what I hoped looked less like a grimace and more like a smile of gratitude; I took his hand and stumbled after him as he led me out of the storm.

I did not like the way he had gazed at me. It made me feel uncomfortable, as if he knew more about me than I did myself, as if he knew that I was an easy conquest, as if he knew that he was leading me into a trap and I did not. Of course I didn’t realize all this then at the time. I was cold and scared and just wanted to get out of the storm.
I did not like the way he was able to find his way out of the storm so easily, so sure of his direction whereas I had been so helpless and unable to gain my bearings. I did not like the iron grip with which he held my hand, the way it felt as if he possessed me, laying claim to me, and taking away my freedom – trapping me in a world of his ruling. I did not like it one hit. But I was too terrified to turn back now. I knew there was no way I could find my own way home in this winter blizzard – there was no way I could come out of this alive except for trusting this completely domineering stranger.

We walked for what seemed to be an eternity, but in reality it was most likely a half-hour at most. I still had no idea where I was, but then we began walking through a tree-covered area that seemed to be a forest. It was strange that I remembered not the forest at that time, for it was a place that I had spent a lot of time at in my youth; playing with my siblings, remembering my parents, whatever reason I came to this forest, it always seemed to calm and comfort me in a way that no mortal ever could. Not that day, that day it seemed eerie and dark, perhaps it was this that made me not recognize my safe haven. It was as if it had been poisoned by a great evil and the sense of that evil was beginning to tear at my soul, causing me sharp pains. I couldn’t breathe.

Sooner than I expected, we came to a small clearing in the forest. There was a cottage there – the head forester had lived there, but a couple of years ago he had passed on and it was purportedly empty. Not so the case it seemed as the stranger led me to the cottage door. I hesitated on the doorstep, now that I knew where I was, I could find my way back to my own cottage, storm or no storm. He felt my resistance and turning locked his gaze again with mine. I could hesitate no more, his iron grip and now his eyes both held me, freezing me to where I stood. I could neither run nor think and so he drew me into the cottage.

The moment he released me to shut the door I sped to the other side of the room and stood against the window, so I knew that if needs be I could always smash the glass and jump out. He gave a smirk at my actions, so sure of himself he was, and pulling off his jacket he came to my side and took my own coat off me. He hung them both up on the hook by the door and they slowly began to drip their melted snow upon the wooden floorboards. He then turned and headed for the kitchen where I heard him rummaging about, I presumed, to make some hot coffee.

There was a fire blazing opposite to where I was standing, soon I crossed over to it and began to warm myself in front of the bright flames. I was so intent on thawing my frozen blood that I did not notice the brief moment of silence that came from the kitchen area. It was only when the noise re-started that I realized it had ever ceased. I became increasingly un-easy and able to stand it no longer, I went to the doorway to find out what my rescuer/captor was doing.

The man was standing at the chopping board, his back towards me, and he was carving thick slices of some type of raw meat. These pieces he dropped onto the hot stove beside him, and they sizzled enticingly, causing my stomach to growl. He turned with another smirk and I felt defensive. “I cannot stay; I thank you for your kindness in retrieving me from the storm, but I really must go. My own family shall be wondering for my safety. I cannot keep them in fear while I enjoy comfort.”
I turned to go to the door, but he at last spoke.

“It’s locked,” he had a remarkably deep, rumbling voice. I turned back to him; he was leaning casually on the bench, wiping his blood-coated hands on what had been a clean white towel. “Well, then unlock it,” I stated. He merely looked at me and turned back to the stove, flipping the steaks as casually as if we were two ordinary people having dinner, not two strangers, one of them now seemingly held prisoner. I left the room and began hunting throughout the house to find a way of escape. He didn’t even bother following me, so sure he was that he had me safe in his lair, he had not fear of my ever being able to escape.

He was right. Most of the doors I tried to open were locked.
Those that did open, I wish I had never opened.
One room was a bedroom, another was an office, the third a bathroom, and the fourth… I would rather forget, but I know I cannot and I also know that that will not help in any way. What’s done is done; I just have to try to attempt to prevent the repeating of history.
The fourth room was entirely black. There was white writing on the walls, strange symbols that I had never seen before. I could sense a great evil in this room, so I did not dare enter it, but I stood and gazed from the doorway. There were candles in multiple candelabras scattered along the perimeter of the room. In the centre of the floor was what looked like a circle with a star in the middle; there was a deep stain upon the wood for the area of the strange diagram. I backed away from the door, realizing the content of the room was highly dangerous – even if I didn’t know what it was for. I could sense that something evil lurked in that room and that the room was the last place I wanted to be. Ever.

I turned to continue down the hallway and I jumped as soon as I lifted my eyes from the floor. He was standing there, leaning against the wall, arms folded, legs crossed. How long he had stood there I did not know. All he said was, “Dinner is served”.

I followed him down the hallway back into the kitchen. The scent of various spices hung thick upon the air. I did not recognize what most of them were, but one I knew was definitely incense. That smell is impossible to disguise.
We sat at the table and he served me first, filling my pleat to the brim. Steak and salad was what he had prepared, steak and salad that I could only pick at – I could not eat like this, seated opposite him, his eyes watching my every move.

I sat there and endured the silence for as long as I was able. Then I could bear it no longer. “Who are you?” I asked. “Why have you brought me here?”
He grinned at my questions, the glint of malice was in his eyes, and he picked up the knife that I had been eyeing warily as it sat at the edge of his plate.
He spoke softly but every word sent chills down my spine.
“I am your worst nightmare.”

I leapt up from the table and backed towards the front room, hoping to find there at the hearth a poker or some similar weapon that I could defend myself with. His eyes gleamed. There was such a hate in there that it made my blood run colder than it had at any prior point. I tried to not show my fear, but I feel I did a very poor job. He held the knife in his hand and advanced towards me. I turned and ran, but he jumped me and tackled me to the floor. He lay heavy upon me, crushing my lungs; I was unable to draw a clear, full breath. He held the knife to my neck, as if considering to slice it now or wait a while longer to prolong my torment. I did not dare to move, I lay there as still as I could, which wasn’t very easy considering my inability to breathe and my panic which made me tremble.

“Such an innocent, aren’t you, such a perfect, beautiful being, I’m sure you’ll be an acceptable sacrifice, but first…” His voice trailed off ominously as he gazed down at me, breathing heavily. I could read his intent in his eyes. “No!” I cried. I struggled and he laughed murderously as he climbed off me and, grabbing me by the hair, he pulled me up and twisted me around to face the back wall. I had not before noticed the full-length mirror that was upon the wall. I could see us both there and I could read the look of pure hate written upon his face. I could also read the fear and terror imprinted on my own.

“I have been watching you for a very, very long time, my sweet,” he leaned down and whispered the words into my ear. His very breath on my cheek made me try to pull away, but he pulled my hair tighter – I cried out in pain. “Yes, I have been watching you, and I must say that I certainly like what I see.”
He grabbed my chin and turned my face to his – he kissed me long and hard, and when he released me I spat in his face. For that, he slapped me.

It was when he hauled me to my feet and began dragging me towards the back room that I knew that if I did not escape here and now, I would most certainly die in whatever horrible nightmarish ritual he would perform in there. Clearly he was serving some satanic monster. Clearly I was intended to be the virgin sacrifice. I could not let that happen!
I glanced towards the window desperately trying to think of a way to get out. I turned back to him. He had stopped and was watching me and it was as if he could read my mind. “Isn’t it rude of guests to be so impolite when their hosts have been so kind and hospitable? Come,” he said, “it is time.”

It was time. While he was still and relaxed I wrenched myself from his grip and ran to the window. With an angry yell he lunged after me. I darted away from his swinging arms and jumped over the sofa and tipped it back to trip him up. I leapt towards the fireplace and was in luck – there was a poker. He was scrambling to his feet (the fall from the sofa had given his head quite a hard blow upon the corner of the table behind him.) when I used the poker to smash the window. Not waiting to clear the glass away I pushed through the remainder of the window and landed among snow and shards of glass outside. Heedless of the deep cuts upon my hands and face I jumped up and ran and ran and ran.

Oh how I ran that day!! Never in my life had I run so hard and fast. Never since have I had such a terrifying need to run. Just why it was that he did not follow me outside of the cottage I shall never know. I do not want to know. I am only thankful that I got out of there alive, even if it does mean that I am force to carry the scars upon my face and hands today. They are my proof that this story is not a lie. They are my constant reminder of how lucky I am to be alive. They are my constant reminder that he is still out there.

Correction; he is still out here, for he has returned. I have seen him every now and again standing on the hill overlooking our village. True, all I can make out is a dark figure upon a snow-white background, but I know it is him. In my soul I can feel it is him.
He must be stopped.
He must be brought to justice.

He must die.
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"If I fail, try again. Live and die by the pen" ~ Epik High

[krystal_tearz]

Hold on tight
Don’t let go
Or else you’ll fall
Far from all that’s real.

Stick to what you know
Don’t venture into the Unknown.
There they lie and cheat & steal,
There the wounds are made with steel.

Machines battle machines,
Minds battle minds.
Bloodshed from mankind,
Bullets from behind.

Surrounded by the enemy
There is nowhere left to fall.
Stand your ground,
No hope is found
They bring you to your knees.

Falling, slipping,
Sliding, diving,
You keep on
Going down.

No escaping,
No returning
No one to be found.

Now you’re here
You’ve not survived
You’re here at the end
Of all your kind.

Mother’s crying,
Son’s are dying.
Daughter’s hiding,
Father’s fighting.
No one left,
But they keep on trying.

Trying to win
The right to life.
Trying to be free
From all this strife.


Flee this place,
Run and hide
Lock yourself
Into your mind.

This is it
There’s no way out.
This is all that’s left
Of a nightmare never-ending
The nightmare that is War.
_________________
"If I fail, try again. Live and die by the pen" ~ Epik High

[Caithdean]

i suggest a place like livejournal or wordpress.
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Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.
I live in my own little world but it's ok, they know me here.
If you can't understand my silence, how can you hope to understand my words?

[krystal_tearz]

good point =P somehow i didn't even think of them.
i'll go make an account sometime during the weekend.
feel free to delete this thread then, i have no idea how =P
_________________
"If I fail, try again. Live and die by the pen" ~ Epik High