EveryShadeOfGrey
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Joined: July 15, 2012
Last Seen: 1 decade
user id: 317703
Joined: July 15, 2012
Last Seen: 1 decade
user id: 317703
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Hello everyone~ I'm StormWolf, and this is my story account. So um. . . yeah.
Quotes by EveryShadeOfGrey
The Choices We Make
Prologue
--» Leslie «--
I don’t remember when I woke up, but I think it began with the screams. Not the normal, yells of someone whose in pain or panicked. But blood curdling screeches that rent the night and chilled me to the core, laying witness to unspeakable terror. Something cold traveled down my spine, a feeling from the dark abyss of some unknown hell, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I think my heart stopped when they began, because when I woke, it thrummed in my heart like a caged bird, struggling against it’s bondage, and impossibly loud. I remember a bitter taste in the back of my mouth, like bile, threatening. My stomach was mutinous, and my mind flew back to every horror movie I’ve ever seen. I thought the screams were bad. I thought they’d never end. It wasn’t half as bad as the silence. As sudden as the howls began, they stopped. I threw back the covers, my hear beating harder and faster then a drum. It was painfully swift, and for a second, I thought I was having a heart attack. Ridiculous, right? But I wasn’t in an state of mind to think clearly. I was seven. And more scared then I’ve ever been in my entire, short, life. I was in pajamas, but I couldn’t stop my little hands from shaking, long enough to put something on. So I didn’t even try. I grabbed my lamp. Yeah, I know it’s stupid. But I was scared as hell, and it seemed like a good weapon at the time. My feet made there way downstairs. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to get my Dad. Once again, I wasn’t thinking straight. Some how, the screams hadn’t managed to wake up my brother. But then again, he sleeps like the dead. The screams had come from the basement. I don’t really know how I knew this, but I knew, that’s where they came from. This scared me more. Why? Because I hated the basement. Maybe it’s because Dillan -My older brother- had once told me the Devil lived down there. I have an interesting brother, and at the time, I had believed him. It didn’t help that it always made weird noises, like a ‘tortured soul’ -Once again, according to my brother- and I couldn’t manage to make my way through the creepy room without a spider running across my damn foot. Every. Single. Time. I opened the door. Unlike, in all the horror movies, it didn’t creak. My Dad had oiled it recently. Before that, you couldn’t open the door without waking the whole damn house. The hallway dropped down a flight of stairs. One of the steps creaks, but I could never figure out which one. Another good reason for not going in the basement. I was young. I was stupid. I was the idiotic kid who goes into a dark alley and is found dead because they ere young, stupid, and idiotic. I was to curious for my own good. I made my way down the stairs, brick walls, crumbling around me. It sounds stereotypical, but it was accurate. The scent of mold and decay rushed forward, and I struggled not to gag. But it was a third, under lying smell, that made with shiver with fear. I could smell the blood. The perfume of death and pain. It washed over me in waves. I think I vomited. When I saw the body, consciousness fled me. vaguely, I remembered the lamp, dropping from my shaking hands. Shattering on the cold, hard floor. The ground flew to meet me, and I fell into darkness.
--» Noteworthy «--
Hey Guys! Please comment your opinion/helpful tips/advice, also, my main account is StormWolf. Comment for notification :)
Prologue
My name is Leslie Knox.
This is my story.
--»«--
Before I begin, let me make on things, very clear:
Once you begin to read, you can’t go back. Ever. This isn’t a joke. Not anymore.
What happened here is real.
Real people got hurt.
Every choice has a consequence.
Don’t make the same mistakes that I did.
--» Leslie «--
I don’t remember when I woke up, but I think it began with the screams. Not the normal, yells of someone whose in pain or panicked. But blood curdling screeches that rent the night and chilled me to the core, laying witness to unspeakable terror. Something cold traveled down my spine, a feeling from the dark abyss of some unknown hell, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I think my heart stopped when they began, because when I woke, it thrummed in my heart like a caged bird, struggling against it’s bondage, and impossibly loud. I remember a bitter taste in the back of my mouth, like bile, threatening. My stomach was mutinous, and my mind flew back to every horror movie I’ve ever seen. I thought the screams were bad. I thought they’d never end. It wasn’t half as bad as the silence. As sudden as the howls began, they stopped. I threw back the covers, my hear beating harder and faster then a drum. It was painfully swift, and for a second, I thought I was having a heart attack. Ridiculous, right? But I wasn’t in an state of mind to think clearly. I was seven. And more scared then I’ve ever been in my entire, short, life. I was in pajamas, but I couldn’t stop my little hands from shaking, long enough to put something on. So I didn’t even try. I grabbed my lamp. Yeah, I know it’s stupid. But I was scared as hell, and it seemed like a good weapon at the time. My feet made there way downstairs. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to get my Dad. Once again, I wasn’t thinking straight. Some how, the screams hadn’t managed to wake up my brother. But then again, he sleeps like the dead. The screams had come from the basement. I don’t really know how I knew this, but I knew, that’s where they came from. This scared me more. Why? Because I hated the basement. Maybe it’s because Dillan -My older brother- had once told me the Devil lived down there. I have an interesting brother, and at the time, I had believed him. It didn’t help that it always made weird noises, like a ‘tortured soul’ -Once again, according to my brother- and I couldn’t manage to make my way through the creepy room without a spider running across my damn foot. Every. Single. Time. I opened the door. Unlike, in all the horror movies, it didn’t creak. My Dad had oiled it recently. Before that, you couldn’t open the door without waking the whole damn house. The hallway dropped down a flight of stairs. One of the steps creaks, but I could never figure out which one. Another good reason for not going in the basement. I was young. I was stupid. I was the idiotic kid who goes into a dark alley and is found dead because they ere young, stupid, and idiotic. I was to curious for my own good. I made my way down the stairs, brick walls, crumbling around me. It sounds stereotypical, but it was accurate. The scent of mold and decay rushed forward, and I struggled not to gag. But it was a third, under lying smell, that made with shiver with fear. I could smell the blood. The perfume of death and pain. It washed over me in waves. I think I vomited. When I saw the body, consciousness fled me. vaguely, I remembered the lamp, dropping from my shaking hands. Shattering on the cold, hard floor. The ground flew to meet me, and I fell into darkness.
--» Noteworthy «--
Hey Guys! Please comment your opinion/helpful tips/advice, also, my main account is StormWolf. Comment for notification :)
The Choices We Make
I don’t know where to begin. There are no words that come to mind, that can describe the events that have come to passed. I arrange letter after letter on the screen, but this is a story that is not meant to begin, let alone end. This not a romance or a sob story. This is no fairy tale. Not all stories have a happy ending.
And sometimes.
It not about the choices we make.
But learning to live with yourself
afterwards.