There was a great carpet dwelling above the world. Inside it. Around it. It was conscious, yet not intelligent. Awake, but it did not think. One, a spectre of selves, everywhere and nowhere. No one knew how it worked, not even itself. It was pure observation. It knew, but did not calculate. It felt, but did not care. It was existence. Reality. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The old man sat by the window, looking out on the valley he’d lived in all his life. He knew everything about that valley. Every little rock, every old tree stump. He loved the valley. It was the best place on Earth for him…
Originally posted on The Book of Hangman:
“Creepy Forest” by Ralvar (2014) Have you ever known the feeling of being lost in the…
Gerog came home from work, threw his bag in a corner and went out on the porch. He sat there for a while, listening to the silence. He loved silence. His note pad was lying on the table, he must have forgotten it outside yesterday. Lucky it didn’t rain. He made a little sketch. A sketch of a man with a big head and strange hair.
The phone rang. He went inside to pick it up. Wrong number. He grabbed a soda from the fridge and went back out. He looked at the note book. The sketch was gone.
That’s strange… He said out loud. He went through the pages, maybe the wind had turned them. Nothing.
Looking for me?
Gerog opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. His sketch was sitting on the fence, smiling at him….
…Three creatures came walking as stairs in a staircase appeared under their feet each step.
-Should we run? She said after a while.
-No. This is worth dying for.
The creatures came towards them. They floated in the air, hovering just a little bit over the ground. Their suits covered their bodies, their faces, but they seemed to have two arms and two legs.
They surrounded the two teenagers.
-Er… Hello! Marty held a hand up in a greeting.
-Hey! Let go! Rebecca said, but truth was, no one had touched her. She was floating in the air, just like them. They both were. They moved into the space craft….
There was a box in the basement. A box Makki had never seen before. It had strange drawings and symbols on it. Faces with creepy expressions.
He tried to open it. The cover didn’t budge. He pulled and pushed, turned it around. Shook it. Something moved inside, but it was securely sealed.
He got crowbar, pushed it in under the lid. Held on to the box, pulling the crowbar down. The lid broke.
He looked inside. He couldn’t see anything, but it smelled horrible, like rotting road kill. He turned it up side down to see if something would fall out. It didn’t.
Disappointed he dropped the box on the floor and went upstairs. He started cutting some bread. He was home alone, and he hated cooking. He ate a sandwich, and went into the living room, sat down in front of the TV. He felt strange, like if someone was watching him. He could hear sounds as well, weird whispering noises…
Originally posted on The Pretentious Panda's Blog [Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra]:
“You’re betting I cannot?” smacked X-27. “I did not say that, I merely said playing with…