Ok guys so I’m going to apologize in advance for how long this blog is going to be, to be honest I hope Dr. A approves it, but if she doesn’t, I’ll probably just cry until she says yes so hopefully that solves its own problem. Anway, here the finale to the story that I have been implementing into my blogs.
Traversing around the front of the living room Otto found each of his breaths becoming faster and shallower.
“Shit, shit, shit” he murmured to himself as he turned the corner and paced the hall, dust erupting from the unswept ground. His eyes wandered from wall to wall. It was only when he made his fourth round back and forth did that thing make itself apparent. Standing at the end of the hall. Its long pale arms dragging across the floorboards.
“Wha-Whar are you” Otto stammered.
“Wha-Whar are you? ” it repeated back to him in an almost perfect repetition of Otto’s voice.
Its elongated legs protrude from its torso in such a manner that any slight movement might cause it pain. It had no hair, its skin pasty and pale. Its facial features seemed minimal beyond comparison to that of a human. No nose, no mouth, just two small black indents in its face that were made to symbolize eyes.
Otto fell back, the floorboards, leaving a litter of splinters across his forearms.
The creature’s arms dragged across the ground as it began its approach, towering above the top of each doorway. It had to bend its neck just to traverse the hall.
“How is it speaking to me without a mouth, what is going on?” Otto was thinking to himself as its long and sickly arms stretched out towards it with every elongated step that it took.
“No, no. Get Away from me, GET AWAY”
GET AWAY
John heard Otto’s scream echo throughout the lower floors, making its way to the attic quickly. Hurrying down the steep steps to the ground floor, his steps becoming louder and more apparent. His boots were now caked in dust and grime from the attic.
“Otto, Otto this isn’t funny where are you?”
John searched throughout the first floor, his patience beginning to thin as minutes passed. But it was only when he reached the end of the hall did his feelings of irritation turn into an almost emotional paralysis. Blood painted along the walls and ceiling, dripping onto the floor, and as john put his finger to the wall did he realize that it was warm.
“John?!”
He heard Otto in what he believed to be the kitchen as he began sprinting towards it.Not just because he missed familiarity but because the end of that blood-soaked hallway left John in a continuous state of dread that wished to escape.
Turning the corner John finally caught sight of Otto, his wide and short figure sitting before him. His face sent a wave of comfort upon John as he was drowning in an ocean of uncertainty.
“Jesus Otto where have you been? “John said, short of breath.
“In the basement taking a breaker,” Otto said, checking through cabinets.
“I-I heard you scream. “John said, attempting to explain himself.
“I don’t know what you heard hut it sure as hell wasn’t me.”
“I could have sworn I heard something” John said, in disbelief.
“Well y-you didn’t” Otto said.
It was only when John finally sat down did his nerves begin to subside.
“Wha-what are you,” Otto murmured in an alarmed tone.
“What did you say?”
“What” Otto said, his voice now beginning to differ from how it sounded just seconds before.
Yet it was only when John heard the distortion in Otto’s voice did he hear the dripping. A dark crimson liquid began to drip on the ground from Otto’s shirt sleeve, his once calm act had now completely dissipated into a menacing glare. A rancid stench that had finally grown apparent began to envelop Otto.
“Uh Otto are you ok-”John was cut off.
“GET AWAY” Otto, or whatever that was screamed, blood beginning to flow from his mouth and eyes, deep black caverns beginning to emerge where his eyes once resided. That same feeling of panic returned to John as he fell from his chair, scrambling to his feet as he sprinted out of the kitchen, attempting to find a way out of the house. Turning the corner, he cascaded through the living room, as he began to reach the front door, he felt himself begin to lose his footing, slipping onto the dusty carpet floors. But when he stood up something was different, it was there, Otto, or whatever was pretending to be otto, now towered over the frame of the front exit. Its skin peeling off its body as if it was too large for it tp fit within the confines of the muscle tissue. John scrambled to his feet, now attempting to take refuge in one of the many bedrooms. However, he wasn’t running alone now, the sound of giant footsteps berated his ears, furniture crashing behind John as he ran. Screams began erupting behind him as turned into one of the many bedrooms in the house and locked the door.
“Go-Goddamnit it otto”
“Wha-what are you.”
Statements spoken only an hour before being regurgitated through the gargling screams of whatever sat behind that door.
“There are no other doors, there’s no windows, what do I do? John thought to himself. He was stuck. Stuck not only behind the grand frame of this oak door but stuck behind the ever-growing sense of panic that washed over him.
“Something, there has to be something” John thought to himself, a spark of hope paired with a sense of urgency jumped into his mind. Crawling quietly to the closet the carpet squished underneath him, wet from years of mildew. However the state of the carpet would be borderline incomparable by the time that he opened the closet doors. A mound of muscle and flash poured out of the closet. A tsunami of bones, organs, and bones, all of it now laying on top of John. The only thing that did not come from the innards of the body was a small white name tag that laid adjacent to John “Osborne Connors”
“Otto” he thought to himself.
John let out a scream so loud he left his own ears ringing. His once well-esteemed coworker now laid before him in a decrepit pile of flesh that John was no longer familiar with.
“No, no, no, no, no ” John muttered to himself as he crumbled against the wall. The now blood-soaked carpet begins to stain John’s Khaki pant legs. His short and stifled breaths became even less frequent when the knocking began.
The first knock caught him off guard, at first he thought he might have been imagining it. That was until he heard the second, and then the third.
“Stop this please, I’m begging you” he screamed. Yet to no avail the knocking continued, now every thirty seconds or so, the knocking even began to change positions, not just behind the door but below the floor, and above the ceiling.It became louder and faster, and louder and faster. The frequency of the knocking is now going beyond any speed capable by a human.
“Please I’m begging you”
John graspeed the cross around his neck with such strength that blood began to flow from the palms of his hands. Its sharp corners seeped into his flesh.
“Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come-”
The knocking suddenly dragged to a halt.
“HalLOweD bE ThY NaMe”
Only blood samples were found of Osborne Connors and Johnathon Patten.
PAPA’S PASTARIA PASTA
MINECRAFT
look at that sprite. that is a taste singular entirely to minecraft. that’s what Scott Pilgrim would eat for +10
so realistically should these be damp or worse soggy from condensation? Yes. however other than the donuts I fear these may be the only actually well-made food in the whole game. like the donuts are good but these are made by an actual chef and I can’t bring myself to be mad at them even if I really want to be.
