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I don't know where my grandma got this book, but I'm scared of it now. I'm not sure I can say too much here. I'm not safe right now. I'll explain more when I get home, if I do. Right now, Grandpa's driving my brother and I home as quickly as he can.
Last time I told you about a book called "Handson's Book of Strange Games". My grandma bought it at a festival in her home country... I think. Ever heard of a place called Sonin? I sure haven't.
I decided to play one of the games in the book, not really believing it would do anything. The game was called "Run Away". After saying a long incantation, you would make a wish and then a spirit would appear in front of you, telling you that you had activated the game, and that in order to win you would have to keep away from the spirit for three hours, giving the player a 1-hour head start.
Needless to say, it worked.
If you lose the game, something terrible will happen. Grandpa never explained what, but he definitely knows something
The Arcane Summoning[Note: It is recommended to play [G] Summon, the short Arcaneverse game, before reading. You can find it and information on it here: http://fav.me/d7u8x6j And now, for your reading pleasure, The Arcane Summoning.]
200th Deviation Anniversary: Arcaneverse PreviewsThe boy turned around, grinning evilly. "It's Faust," he said.
"The sword doesn't burn to hurt you. It burns to refine."
Waite turned to Rider, eyes widened. "He's back," he gasped.
Numbers joined the chat.
"It has to happen, Marie," he said. "I'm sorry."
He saw just how the man had died: a million paper cuts right to his... holy...
"You are our only Hope," the man pleaded.
"Faith, Hope, and Love..." the second man muttered under his breath.
"It's Defenestration Time!" he shouted, throwing the man out the window.
"Aw, now I need a catchphrase," the woman behind him sighed.
"I'm a sword-wielding Mega Man!" he exclaimed happily.
"I think I just realized... summoning demons is a bad idea..."
The man raised an eyebrow, as if to say "No, really?"
"Loneliness does terrible things to people..." he sighed.
The Producer's BookThe room was dark. Carl had taken Marie by the hand to the room to show her something important. Marie turned on the light as Carl took something out of his pocket. It was a black, hardcover book with the title "Luxgwen Academy of the Mystic Arts - Student Handbook, Post-Graduation Spellbook."
"What... is that?" Marie asked.
"It's a spellbook," Carl explained. "I found it in the Producer's office-"
"You found it WHERE?!" Marie exclaimed, but Carl hushed her.
"Quiet!" he whispered. "Do you want anyone finding us?"
"Anyway, yeah, I went into the Producer's office. I don't trust him. I... I think something's up with him and my uncle."
"Yeah... I heard that Uncle Richard had been in jail once or twice."
"You told me that before."
"Yes, but all I knew were rumors. I've heard even more, though; some say that the Producer's been helping him stay out of jail for very long. Bribing the cops, changing Uncle's name, stuff like that..."
"What does that have to do with t
Defenestration Man #5RYOTO-218, the crate read. The man ready to open the crate had heard all about the late Dr. Ryoto's infamous secret inventions, some of which were said to be inside this crate. All he had to do was open it, and the secrets would come out.
Defenestration Man punched the would-be thief clean across the room.
"Y-you!" the man shouted after landing. "Y-you're-"
"Defenestration Man," he replied. "And you aren't going anywhere."
The Company PartyCrafter's phone began vibrating in his pocket. The caller ID read Numbers - Story Dept.. Crafter nervously put the cell phone up to his ear, hoping his co-workers wouldn't pay him too much mind. "H-hey, Numbers," he greeted.
"Hey, Crafty!" the young woman cheerfully replied on her end. "How's it going in the Gameplay Department? You on break?"
"Y-yeah, I'm on break," he replied. "Things are going... okay over here. Everything's... programming well, minus a few bugs..."
"Well, wanna chat?"
Crafter was silent for a moment. Oh crud, he thought, small talk. The dreaded bane of introverts everywhere.
"Well... uh... I'm not really sure of what to talk about..." Crafter stuttered.
"Oh, well... There was one thing I wanted to ask," Numbers replied.
"Well... you know your uncle Rider?"
"I just wanted to ask if you had heard anything from him about Mr. Waite."
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"Well... a few days ago... Mr. Waite nearly fainted."
"What?! He did?
Joseph Canterbury"Luxgwen Academy," the headmaster spoke in front of his audience. "A school that cannot be found by anyone, save for two exceptions: Those who are lost and weary and those who know where it is."
The students watched behind him as he spoke, for a spell had been cast that projected images onto the wall behind him, moving pictures of the school's history. He explained the history of the school to the students, from its inception in 1601, to the Luxgwen Massacre in 1609, to what he called the Redbane Incident in 1770, among other incidents and events.
Finally, he came to today, three hundred and fifty-two years since the school's inception.
"Today, we welcome a new student, a Mr. Joseph Canterbury. He is thirteen years old and willing to learn the magic of this school." He turned to a young, teenaged boy beside him and smiled. "Now, you may go and sit with the other students, Mr. Canterbury."
"Y-yes, sir, Mr. Luxgwen..."
Joseph sat down at the large feast table, filled with students. One t
A Bloody Turnabout - PrologueEvery seven nights, a body would appear in that underground room under his dorm. Peter Krenshaw would go down there and use the dead body to practice his blood magic. The body always disappeared the next day.
Peter wasn't the cause of these deaths, however.
He couldn't exactly report these bodies. After all, bodies suddenly appearing in a hidden basement under your dorm is rather suspicious to say the least. Expulsion was the best possible thing that could happen to him if someone found out.
Rather than report them, he practiced his blood magic using them, learning the intricasies of each spell found in his forbidden book. He had always been curious about learning magic, always wanting to know everything about it, especially the dark and forbidden things. He never desired to be "evil", but "knowledgable and powerful".
Every time a body appeared, he recognized it as a former student, one who had gone missing and never returned, one who was expelled, one who left the school, and so on. H
His Favorite MovieRick and Fred had been friends for as long as they could remember, both bonding over a shared common interest: movies. Fred loved watching horror movies, even at a young age, while Rick pretty much enjoyed every movie he saw (even the ones he knew were bad). Rick shared pretty much every movie he had with Fred.
Except one. His "favorite" movie.
Rick's favorite movie was an obscure Japanese film known as Akuma no Uta, or Demon's Song. It was a horror film, but Rick would never describe the horror. Rick loved the movie too much to share with anymore, and the film itself was extremely rare, especially its English translation.
Fred tried to look the film up with no success. Even the company Rick said made it, Kansho Pictures, didn't seem to exist anywhere and had never released a film before. However, Fred completely believed Rick when he said the movie existed.
He believed it even more when he sent the DVD to his house. The case looked old and dirty, and featured a fi
Creepypasta: Under the TreeCreepypasta: Under the Tree
It was Christmas Eve and Reggie was dead bored. Alone in his family’s cavernous, too-empty house, his mind began to wander about as to how he could get back at them for leaving him alone to watch the place during their last-minute shopping. They’d certainly be gone for many more hours. The nerve of them! He’d already gotten their gifts well in advance. It just didn’t seem fair to Reggie that he should have to pay for their thoughtlessness.
And then it hit him. That was it! A gift.
Reggie hauled a two-part oaken box his family used for storing old video games out from its dusty corner. After laboriously dragging both pieces under the tree and clearing them out, he climbed inside one of them with a flashlight in hand so he could see what he was doing. He then hefted the second segment over his head, letting it nestle over the lower half in a perfect fit, and sealed both parts together with a length of duct tape. Wouldn’t they be s
Hallucinatory DreamsHallucinatory Dreams
Who would have thought that simply light dinner and wine would have such an effect?
I took a dinner of roast chicken with white wine and sat back in my recliner to relax with a poppy cigarette as was my habit. I left all thoughts of my work and my education behind me. Slowly I breathed deeply and closed my eyes as though to sleep. When I dreamed I could not know; but I knew that I was dreaming.
The first thing I saw was a rustic building such as I had heard about in Arkham, Massachusetts. I slowly saw the edifices of some buildings. Then I saw one I vaguely recognized and began to drift inward.
Within seconds, I was in some room and I heard the sounds of scurrying in the walls*. I endeavored to shift my focus and escape. Moments later, I was outdoors again and I headed along the path I took at the start. I believed that it was the only way out to the real, waking world and remained calm. A moment later, I was in my flat and I woke u
Jesabelle A small girl sits on a small bed, a small doll held between her small hands. Her small eyes stare out into the darkness of the small room in which the bed she sits upon is housed. The door to the small room is closed, but she doesn't pay it any mind. The walls are bare, and nothing else but a small table and chair and a small sink are in the room.
The doll in her hands is dirty, chipped and worn, it's tiny painted face fading with age. Its own tiny eyes stare off in the other direction, its tiny head having been twisted to the left too look at the small metal headboard and barren wall beside the girl. The dolls little dress is slightly torn and very dirty, not unlike her companion's own nightgown. Her tiny feet are covered in dirty white socks and fading black shoes, and they dangle over the girls knees limply, like every doll's should.
"Why is it so dark?" A small voice asks, though neither the girl or the doll move their lips.
PlopI heard a crack and a pop, with the music suddenly sounding clearer. I need to buy new headphones, I noted, but first I had to get out of the metro and walk to the mall. When the world spinned around me and I felt something warm seeping out of my ear, I noticed that I wasn't wearing headphones.
Request: The Trouble With Fright NightPeter Vincent continued to pack his clothes and other attire in a suitcase on his bed, despite the time on the clock reading minutes to 1 in the morning. Of course, as a former actor, he was used to staying up late nights, even at his age of 57; in fact, most of the fans of “Fright Night” did exactly that most evenings when it aired.
“Peter Vincent, vampire killer,” he muttered to himself. He tried to catch himself in time before he could finish the phrase, but he failed for about the seventh or eighth time. He caught himself staring at a small and worn promotional photograph for the show, with the slogan that read “There are very good reasons to be afraid of the dark”. The main text: FRIGHT NIGHT, seemed to jump out from the image, followed by the name of the host and time in smaller caption. The photo didn’t seem like something worth taking seriously though, which probably explained the programs poor rating, which ultimately lead to his inevi
Chosen.I couldn't tell if my mind actually began working or not but I heard a voice call out, "Hey! Look over here, you!"
I tried to to look around and find the person but everything was dark. I kept looking when I heard the person call out again, "Not trying hard enough, boy." That's when it flashed into view right in front of me, flashing like a flickering light bulb.
A spotlight shines directly down on a table with this being on the otherside.
I'm at a loss what to call this thing. It has an unnatural human body. No gender defining details at all. Whenever it spoke I became audibly disoriented, each word it spoke it changed everything, tone, accent, pitch... made it hard to pick up on what was being said and the meaning behind what was said.
"Look closely." It said. It held one hand pointing upward, fingers spread out, perfectly flat and vertical so I could see it's palm.
"Chosen?" It asked. It flexed it's fingers, hand, wrist as I looked on mesmerized.
It raised it's hand up as high as it
A Visit To A CircusSo Ok, here it is,Block B and F(x) Victoria story
I already posted half of it on Asianfanfics but I'm going to re-write ending before putting rest in there.
A Visit To A Circus.
POV : Victoria
“Victoria.” I can hear my mother's voice clearly but still opening my eyes and fully waking up sounds like too much for me.
“Song Victoria wake up already. I promised you that we will go somewhere together, so get dressed because circus is in our town and you were the one begging me to take you to a real circus” - And there went my precious sleep.
“Mom, i don't think that you realised that i'm not five anymore.And to be honest weren't you the one wanting to see the tightrope walkers.”- She laughed and said that for her i'll always be five.After that everything went quickly.It felt like it was just a few blinks of my eyes as we were at the
SpotlightShe fled into the woods, hoping that the cops were slow like in the movies. Lindsey should have just stuck around, blown into the breathalyzer, and gone home. All she had to drink that night was a cherry coke. It tasted far too sweet, making her stomach ache as she ran. She hadn't even wanted to go in the first place. Someone shouted "SPOTLIGHT" in slurred, over emphasized speech. Before she could lower herself to the ground, she tripped over something. Lacking any grace, she face planted into the hard earth. The spotlight briefly illuminated the woods in front of her before moving on to her left. Rolling over, facing the direction she had come from, she cursed quietly at the thing that made her trip. As if in response to her bickering, a soft moan sounded off to her right. The spotlight skimmed across the woods again, giving her just enough time to see what was happening. Blood steamed and glinted as it poured from the moaning cop's throat. Tracy was standing over him drenched in bloo
Deathless Tune: The JobFreed from death, the conductor could compose and play for eternity, and he had until the end of time to search for his virtuoso successors. But he could not remain with the orchestra he had created. Claiming he wished to die by the seaside, he packed his possessions and departed.
He drove. He played on street corners, where even the strongest-hearted businessmen were wont to weep exquisitely. He was offered jobs. He was offered gigs. He drove. Always he looked for a young soul touched by his music, for some connection with his audience that went deeper than listening. He never found it.
At night he would play his ode, the cruelest piece he had ever written. The Devil had answered, so long ago, and the bargain meant pain. Life was pain. But life was also music.
One moonless midnight on the highway, the conductor pulled off into a city whose name he had not bothered to read. The city was asleep, but even so it was full of life. The conductor could hear it, breathing in the darkness like
Overprotective, Even From Beyond The Grave"So... Looks like we're alone tonight..." he noted to his girlfriend.
"Yeah..." she replied.
"Completely alone..." he said, inching closer.
"Just the two of us..." she grinned at him as he put his arm around her.
Suddenly, the phone rang.
"OH, COME ON!" he shouted. "I'm not answering it," he muttered to his girlfriend. "Moment-killer..."
His girlfriend pulled him closer, embracing him as they kissed passionately.
"Hi, this is Jay Learner," the answering machine said. "Please leave a message after the beep."
As they kissed, the machine loudly beeped.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY DAUGHTER?!" a male voice boomed from the phone.
The two quickly broke the kiss. "That was my dad!" the young woman exclaimed. "My dad... is dead! He's been dead for two years now."
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More