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Circulation: 194,910,685 |
Issue: 752 | 7th day of Collecting, Y18 |
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Headlines "The Monster Inside" by spidermanfan234 "I have a riddle for you, Master.
Do you think that you can solve it?”
No, the answer sought could not be found in books—
His wits strewn—he threw them from the shelf,
While the mirror asked a question dared by none.
“Riddle me this, Thade: What have you become?”
Rage exploding, glass shattering—he looked,
And saw a reflection of himself.
Broken, twisted, ugly . . . but not quite dead;
Only darkness left inside his head.
Darkness was everywhere.
Thade took comfort from the darkness. It had consumed him. Numbed his pain. Negated poisonous thoughts like: accepting defeat and making amends. It had brought him solace when nothing else could—when he had even failed himself. And the darkness had made his choking insanity seem less . . . insane.
His life was darkness now, and it was just fine. Most of the time.
Thade left his library and roamed the house. The nice thing about being dead was that he no longer had to walk through each room to get places. He WAS the house. Well, to be more technical (and less cool-sounding), his undeparted spirit inhabited and controlled the house. Either way, it definitely came in handy when scaring the wits out of foolhardy adventurers who entered. He took joy in frightening them to the point of crippling terror. And he never failed to cackle with glee each time their speech crumbled to incoherent babble. For some reason, entertainment like that never got boring.
Other Stories
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Night Terrors of the Darkest Kind Fyora let out a scream as she was jolted from her sleep. Her back was as stiff as a board as she sat up. Her chest heaved with every pant as she felt the sweat rolling down her face. She slowly began to lift herself up out of the bed as her eyes adjusted to the faint lights of an Altadorian night filtering in through the window.
by rocksysmom |
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KATIPO I: Restart: Part Six Her footsteps fall light in regret. She’s tasting her mistakes on the back of her tongue. All she can do to keep the shame from bursting through her ribcage is cross her arms and count her steps — three, four, five, six..
by theschizophrenicpunk |
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The Ardors and Agonies of Witchcraft: Part Two The next morning, Seneca made up for her leisurely first day by spending hours upon hours at Alless’s command. Seneca turned pages while Alless read and tried not to die of boredom, she grabbed whatever ingredients were needed and tossed them into the cauldron, and once she was even called upon to run down to the market and buy pickled Techos’ feet
by hybatsu |
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