I'm hunrgy for some...

Creepy Pasta!
---
Take care in crowded places.
You never know quite what's lurking there...

It's early in the evening and your friend should be back from the concert soon. You're waiting for him to get back so you can go over that chemistry work that's been giving you such trouble- But he's sent you a text saying he may be late.
To your delight, however, he's surprised you by showing up early, moments after you received the text. You proceed to let him in, willingly, and to start discussing the assignment. What started as a serious study turns quite quickly into folly, and you two are laughing and talking like you've always done, well into the evening.
As you talk to him, you notice he seems lighter. He's happier to see you, moves more. His smile is broader, and he's eager to hear all about your day.
While your conversation is on-going, and you're starting to notice these things, your phone beeps.
A text message is on the screen, from the friend sitting across from you, the time stamp only minutes ago. It reads:
'I'm downstairs.'
You look up, about to comment about the weird glitch, and notice that his smile is far, far wider than it usually is, and his teeth are much, much sharper...

----========================----

Like mirrors, your shadows are reflections of another plane of reality, holding back unfathomable truths that are inconsiderable by most humans.
Where those beings- not quite your reflection, not quite yourself- in mirrors require voluntary devotion and ceremony to be released or stirred into wakening, your shadows, on the other hand, only need be seen at the wrong time.

When your shadow's shadow is visible, with it's long fingers, skinny stance and flickering habits, the best you can hope for is that you don't look at it directly.
If you do, well... All your old tricks? The lights and covering?
No added light will help you here. It will only make things much, much worse-
And if you add shadows to shadow, well, you only get something far darker.

Another for To-Night; Untitled 2

I am a ghost in tennis shoes.
A marauder, masquerading with sweet, sick vigilance
A heroine left on the docks
Encased in salt from the seaspray
Staring out to the storms
A statue carved in waiting.

A statue supporting a falling man who is
a flickering lantern, flinching, now
only guiding fireflies
as opposed to battleships.

There is warmth in these vice gripping arms
That heart beat
Coming through this salted stone around me-

The voices, they are so thorough!
I pray they not whisper..
My own are dubious, certain, but to think--
I pray, I pray, I pray
I cannot move from the salt-tomb.
I cannot love this Hyde, clawing me.
It is with horror I find those dreams!
That sleep addled voice I fear is his-
I don't, don't, don't want to have overlooked--

A man falling
Is a different man.

A statue resolute, turns her head towards him.
This smile cannot wither
Or?
He will drown.

I cannot ease him from his worries.
Words flutter, flurry through fog
Like pretty, inarticulate, useless moths
My motions and gasps.
Quiet sighs and mumbles
Fumbling moans and arching--
He is vacant beside.
I resign to wrap around him.
A sign of life!
This frankenstein's folly, he smiles now!
There must be-- Am I too much?
Am I a weight? I feel heavy on him.
His shoulders ache enough, surely.
All these things and woes!
He is Hunchback'd, my darling
From a lord of lightning to a peasant of squalor, I've found him.
And try as i might, i cannot find him the heavens if he will not gaze starwards.
it is something I cannot part him from.

This frightens me.
Again, like tides!
I will it to banish itself
To let him straighten his spine
To awaken to senses
Touch, hearing, sight!
Oh, I am a selfish wanting thing, now.
So, we are still, it seems
While I pray for this storm to pass.

Opening Day

Just starting the whole shenanigan. Opening with a poem (that;s a lie, these are just unstructured words.) scrawled in my notebook; using this as a place to put up writing and such scrawls anyway.
--
The night storm pressed--
Not only into my ears, but
into my flesh
and muscle
and sleep

Like heavy, cold fingertips leaving
Sweet, lithe, purple-blue, light prints
Gentle as a lover's palm-
Striking with iron.
The marks seep;
I find myself in disarray
Running from constant wind and motion
Your voice a buoy in this sea of distorted hallucination
That poets call dreams
There is a chaos in that rising wave!

We rest, suddenly
thrown at the shoreline.
You're like kelp to my legs,
Clinging, breathless, terrified.
I brush salt from my eyelashes
and we lay beached and baking.
Very quietly, alone, we're in unity.
Still, unmoving while we wait to drown in tide.
Our muscles ache from the swim,
Burdened by half-drowned fears
But we lie non-the-less
Still
Yes, yet still
Happy.
--

Hm. Not much a fan of the end.
That's all for this post.