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KingOnie

a shitpost except not funny
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There was no greater sound than that of nothing. No cars, no voices, no barking dogs or meowing cats. Nothing, as Cindy found, was also terrifying.

Not a single floorboard in the entirety of her newly renovated house creaked, nor did a cricket sing or an owl hoot. It was unnerving, she thought, and the darkness of the forest outside of her windows didn’t serve to soothe her.

Quickly downing the rest of her glass of water, she placed the now empty cup in the sink and rounded the counter into the living room. The television played a reality show she had no real interest in, though the sound was a low hum in the room. Kicking off her slippers, she sat on the couch and curled into herself, turning up the volume to distract herself. From the coffee table, her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up. Curiously, she reached out to pick it up.

A light tap sounded from the glass doors to her left. Her entire body froze, heart beating loudly in her ears as she snapped toward the door. There was nothing, not a person or an animal. It was a branch, Cindy convinced herself, or maybe a leaf. Quickly, she snatched her phone from the table, turning the screen to face herself. There was one text from a number she didn’t recognize.

I’m here

Pursing her lips, she unlocked her phone, typing out a quick message in response before turning her attention back to the television. Though it was a wrong number, she couldn’t help but get chills as the glass door stared her down.

Sorry, I think you have the wrong number.

It wasn’t more than ten seconds after she set the phone down that it buzzed again. Genuinely, she was beginning to get upset. As much as she wasn’t into Maury, a family may be ruined by the boyfriend’s shocking secret and she’d be damned if she didn’t hear what it was. Picking up the phone, she flipped it back over. This time, it was a multimedia message, one she discovered upon opening was a picture of a deer taken with a bright flash. She rolled her eyes, typing out another message.

Thanks, but I’m not interested. Have a good night, I hope you find who you’re looking for

Before she could exit out of the messaging app, another message came in, almost like whoever was on the other end was anticipating her words.

I did.

Along with those words was another picture. It was dark, but in the light of the television and the lamp to her side she could clearly see herself. Her blood ran cold.

Standing, Cindy looked toward the door. Nobody was outside. She debated between sending another text and calling the police. Behind her, the kitchen light turned on.

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I don’t get a lot of alone time anymore. It’s not something I mind, I never used to like being alone as a kid. What was fun about playing pretend when you were the only one around?

As I grew older, though, I hated being alone for more than playing pretend. I hated it because of the awful ringing that silence put in my ears. More so than that, I hated it because of the shadows in the corners of my eyes that I could never catch.

This happened in late April. It was after school, after chess club, me and a few of my friends were walking to the closest pizza joint to fill up before the final football game of the season. Lia and Keith, a set of fraternal twins who moved here from Fresno during our sophomore year, took the lead, and I walked just behind Marcus, who I met in eighth grade. The twins were singing along to a song from Moana, which Marcus and I still hadn’t seen. In fact, I still haven’t seen it. We stayed silent for the next few blocks.

“Pizza Hut is, like, a mile and a half away,” Lia complained, looking at the map on her phone. We all knew where Pizza Hut was, though she was very particular about paths.

“It’s usually only a fifteen-minute walk,” Keith shrugged. It had been twelve.

“My phone says we still have one point two miles to go,” she argued. I distinctly remember how her cheeks flushed the same red as her hair when she got upset.

“The strange case of the teleporting Pizza Hut,” I teased, bumping Marcus’ shoulder. He wanted to be an author, he always talked about what stories he was writing. He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t write trash, Max, I’m an artist.” The tone of his voice was one of condescending confidence, his nose upturned as he took one large, loud gulp of his Red Bull. I couldn’t help but laugh. Marcus was the hipster type, the one that only listened to obscure indie bands and wore too many flannels and suspenders he didn’t need. He played trombone in a ska band called Santeria.

“Nobody wants to read your Sonic fanfiction!” Lia yelled back at him. He spat out his drink, splattering warm Red Bull all over my shoes.

“These are new,” I whined, though I didn’t mind as much as I pretended it did. He tilted the can over my shoes, a small drop collecting along the lip of it. I knocked the can out of his hand, what little liquid that was left spilling onto the pavement. He gave me a dirty look, stooping to collect the dented metal can. Lia groaned.

“Let’s just go to McDonald’s. It’s, like, two blocks back. We’re gonna miss the game.”

“Maybe,” Keith cut in, stretching out the vowels. “You shouldn’t have worn those heels today.”

“Yeah, but Lance Miller is totally gonna give me his jersey today!” She bounced her perfect waves, a grin on her lips. There was a simultaneous groan from Marcus and Keith. I could understand, though. A part of me hoped that Marcus would give me his jacket after the marching season ended. Nevertheless, we turned in a nearly flawless about-face. The band director would have been proud. “Woah, Max, look!” Lia pointed brazenly across the street.

Standing there, eyes downcast to her phone, was a girl my age. In fact, as crazy as it sounds, I would say it was me. We had the same purple nails, the same buckwheat hair in the same pigtails and the same Berkeley sweatshirt that had paint stains that lined up with the ones on our jeans. I’d only heard unconvincing stories of glitches in the matrix before, but, looking at the shade of fuchsia that stained the outstretched paw of the bear in the logo, the shade I’d mixed myself, I instantly believed everything.

“We should talk to her!” Lia suggested. My eyebrows shot up. I hardly liked talking to teachers, much less strangers that looked like me.

“Max!” Keith yelled. The girl looked up, surprise crossing over her face. Marcus took out his phone, his skin turning pale.

“Guys,” he trailed off. He held out his phone, a notification from less than a minute ago lighting up the screen.

MAXIMANDER (1)

Where u at?

“I didn’t send that,” I said, but they all knew. I was with them, right beside Marcus. He typed away a message, one that made my phone buzz in my pocket. I took it out, watching as the bubbles that signified that I was typing appeared on screen.

MARKIEMARK (1)

Dude?

MAXIMANDER

Who’s with u?

“Guys,” I said, echoing what Marcus had said earlier. “Guys. Guys- “

“Hold on,” Marcus said, tucking his phone back in his pocket. With a determined look on his face, he strode across the street.

Lia screamed, my heart dropping and my words failing as a car came barreling down the street, the tires screeching to a halt only after impact with Marcus. The sound of the car hitting him was thick and dull, contested by the wet smack and sharp pop of his head off the ground. Lia and Keith ran to his broken, lifeless body. We all knew he was dead. Marcus was the strongest man we knew, but nobody was strong enough to withstand the hit he had taken. Blood, red and pungent, flowed from his cracked skull, displacing small leaves and litter as it flowed into storm drain. As I looked up from the limp body of my best friend, I found the other side of the street empty.

I don’t go to school now. I can’t handle the looks they give me, I can’t handle going through my classes knowing that Marcus is no longer there to make them fun. I can’t handle knowing that, somehow, he did because of me.

I’m not alone, though. Every hour on the hour I get a text.

MARKIEMARK

Max?

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name: Bebram Qiltas
nicknames: Bebby, Quill, Spiderboy, Candyman
gender / sex: male
age: 16
species: demon humanoid
height: 4'0 (he will kill a man)
weight: 67 lbs

sexuality: homosexual
status: taken
occupation: sophomore going on junior, amatuer drug dealer and part-time YouTube attemptee
outfit: black sweater that is two sizes too big or a graphic shirt from Hot Topic, red skinny jeans, black Doc Martens, black beanie
accessories: stud earings in lobe, studs or hoops in (2) helix piercings, stygal septum piercing, three bridge piercings
physical attributes: full black eyes (the left is lazy but nobody can really tell), sharp and jagged teeth, Adatiel tattoo on left hand, 'Worship the Fallen' tattoo on right thigh (in Enochian)
abilities: can juggle really well but thats about as imppressive as it gets

classes: (in order)
- Marketing 3 ( C+ )
- Woodworking ( A )
- Chemistry ( B )
- Gym  (A )
- US History ( D+ )
- English / Literature ( B- )
- Band ( A+ )
clubs: latin, optimism in nihilism (club founder)

personality: quiet but is probably always thinking about wanting to shoot up the school, doesnt care but actually really does, will cry when sad, then in anger because he hates crying
likes: late night talk shows, the game show network, painting, skabort, climbing things, sugar
dislikes: waxy things, water, gospel, pollen, peanut butter cups
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@ town of salem

1 min read
biff splunge and muggy peemoid
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