Saturday, 30 June 2012



Meh, bloglovin' wanted this SOOOO much emails from them. It got annoying.

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Thursday, 21 June 2012

You really want to know why?

Do you seriously wonder why I don’t talk as much as I used to? Don’t hug you?
You’re supposed to be my parents, people I’m supposed to trust, to confide in.
I used to think I could. But now, I’m not so sure.
I did nothing wrong, at least not to make you hate me.
If you say I was a mistake, fine, but it’s not my fault that you two jumped into bed with each other.
It’s your fault that happened. Not mine. Yours.
And to my dear, dear stepmother, don’t take it out on me that you lost your second child. I didn’t even know those two.
The cat is not your child.  He is feline, not human. It pisses me off seeing the way you treat him.
“Oh, R.V’s such a nicey wicey cat, so I’m going to put him in the child’s bed.”
I do not want cat hair and fleas and cat shit in my bed, thank you very much. But when I tell you that it’s all, “Oh shut up. He’s not your cat.”
And then, you feed him off the table.
I do not like to have a cat trying to get food off my plate, whilst I’m eating.
And you know what? Hmmm? I’m finding that I can trust people on the internet, who could be forty year old pervy stalker dudes, better than you three. I wonder why that it? Oh yes, It’s because when I talk to them, I don’t have to feel like I’m the adult while talking with them. Unlike you three who just fight, fight, fight all day long, bitching about each other.
No wonder I’m sick of you. No wonder why can’t wait to move out of this hellhole. It really is no wonder why some days I just want to curl up in a ball and die.

Thursday, 14 June 2012

A Scary Story

When I was younger, there was a ruined building at the bottom of our street. All of the kids in the area kept well away from it, because the rumour was that it was haunted.
The concrete walls of the old two-story building were cracked and crumbling. The windows were broken and shards of glass lay all over the floor inside.
One evening, as a test of courage, my best friend and I decided to explore the creepy old place.
We climbed in through a window at the back of the building. The whole place was dirty and there was a layer of mud on the wooden floor. As we dusted ourselves off, we looked up and were shocked to see that someone had written the words “I AM DEAD” on the wall near the ceiling.
“Probably just some teenagers trying to scare kids”, I said.
“Yeah, probably…”, replied my friend nervously.
We explored more of the rooms on the ground floor. In a room that appeared to have once been a kitchen of sorts, we found more writing on the wall.
We walked up the creaking stairs to the second floor. I led the way and my friend followed close behind. I wasn’t scared, but he was beginning to get a little jittery.
When we came to the top of the stairs, we turned left and walked cautiously down the narrow hallway. At the end of the hallway was a closed door with some more ominous writing on it.
By now, my friend was shaking with fear. I was quite creeped out too, but I didn’t want to show it. He told me he didn’t want to go any further, but I insisted, telling him there was nothing to be afraid of.
I turned the handle and the door creaked open. We stepped into the room and found it empty. There were two closed doors on either side. There was more creepy writing on the wall.
As soon as my friend saw this, he completely lost his nerve. He gave a yelp and turned to run away. I caught hold of his arm, but he shook me off and fled out through the open door. I heard his footsteps disappearing off down the hallway.
I held my ground. I was determined to be brave and overcome my fear. Mustering all my courage, I opened the door on the right and walked inside. I walked to the other side of the room and on the wall, written in tiny letters were the words “MY BODY IS UNDERNEATH.”
I looked down at the floor. I was standing on some more writing on the floorboards. I stepped back and saw the words “MY HEAD IS COMING FROM THE ROOM BEHIND YOU. TURN AROUND.”
I heard the door behind me creaking and quickly turned. There was a shadow moving behind the door. Suddenly something rolled into the room and came to a rest against the wall.
It was my friend’s severed head.
His dead, sightless eyes seemed to stare at me. Screaming in horror, I flung myself out through the open window and fell two stories to the ground.
I landed on my side, breaking my arm. In horrible pain, I ran home, crying and yelling for my parents.
The police were called and they searched the old ruined building. At first, they didn’t find anything. There wasn’t even any writing on the wall. They combed the house from top to bottom, but didn’t find any traces of my friend.
Then they pried up the floorboards. His body was lying underneath. They never found his head.