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21
Society and History / Re: Not-Good Things People Say on the Internet
« Last post by Art Vandelay on September 23, 2017, 09:57:46 am »
Seems like it would be a lot harder to get some decent friction going, though.
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Society and History / Re: Not-Good Things People Say on the Internet
« Last post by RavynousHunter on September 23, 2017, 09:34:57 am »
Sure, there's wanking condoms.  Makes cleanup a hell of a lot easier.
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Religion and Philosophy / Re: Christian News Network fundies
« Last post by Ambulance Chaser on September 23, 2017, 08:47:19 am »
It is very easy to come back.  I hope you all do if they ban you.  I haven't recovered from the loss of Ambulance Chaser...boy is he missed over there.  I believe he was going to request reinstatement to be legit about it but I would doubt that works with these people.  Just download TOR browser, log in with a new name and let the fun continue.

That's kind of you to say. I have some thoughts on my current status, and I've been thinking about putting them into words. I may put together a post about it soon.
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Society and History / Re: Not-Good Things People Say on the Internet
« Last post by Art Vandelay on September 23, 2017, 07:29:29 am »
As if there are other kinds of condoms.
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The Lounge / Re: Random Thoughts Thread
« Last post by RavynousHunter on September 23, 2017, 07:26:15 am »
Facebook: "Rise and shine, Erik!"

Me: "You need to calm the fuck down."
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Society and History / Re: Not-Good Things People Say on the Internet
« Last post by RavynousHunter on September 23, 2017, 07:13:32 am »
That, or just wear a fucking condom.
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The Lounge / Re: Things That Annoy You
« Last post by RavynousHunter on September 23, 2017, 07:09:16 am »
You must be blissfully unaware of the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement.
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Creative Outlets / Re: Niam Writes Horror
« Last post by niam2023 on September 23, 2017, 03:19:21 am »
Chapter 2

I stood there, trying to gulp and get this feeling out of my throat, but no matter what I did, I just couldn't manage it. The dog by now was oozing the black tar out of its mouth, smaller trails coming from its eyes, and somehow I could tell the animal was trying to affect a human's smile.

It spoke again, coughing once before getting its voice right again, "Billy Billy Billy...you're a sinner. A sinner. A sinn---" It then hacked suddenly and vomited up, along with a lot of the black tar, what looked like some sort of chunk of bloodied meat.

I took the opportunity while it was distracted to run - to run as fast as my legs would take me, far from that horrible dog-thing, from the staring dogs. As I ran I somehow felt it was at my heels, I heard a giggle trail off not too far behind, a legion of snarls at my back...

...only for them to suddenly disperse as soon as I got close enough to home.

Mom still wasn't home, neither was Dad - but I was hardly thinking of them when I almost ran right into the door. Shoved the key at the lock, almost dropping it a few times in a sheer panic and then getting it open and slamming it shut behind me.

"W-Was that what Patrick heard?" I whispered to myself. Was that what I heard at my door last night? Was I even safe here?

I let my backpack drop at my feet, and thought about what that horrible, horrible creature meant by calling me a sinner...more to the dire point, that I was going to die. I moved to the home phone, thinking of dialing 911, but then wondering what to tell the police. Would they really believe that I just got chased home by a dog vomiting up tar and stuff? Would anyone really believe this?

I looked up at the ceiling, choked back a sob, and then decided I needed to be brave. I needed to reach out...to...to freaking Patrick. And any other students experiencing these attacks and encounters.

I couldn't just sit back and pretend this was not happening. It was real, well and totally real - I'd seen and heard it, almost died...and I couldn't let that happen to anyone else.

--------

Speaking of young Patrick Delauney, he lived on the other side of town, with his single mother - who could hardly handle the raucous teenager her son was becoming. In eighth grade, Patrick was known as one of the school bad boys, though precious few had any idea just how bad he really was.

Patrick spent the day after school looking over his shoulder for that voice, knowing if it could get inside his home, he needed to be aware of whether it was going to show up again.

Why the hell did it insist on him going and bothering Bill, Patrick wondered.

Well, he decided, that was not going to dissuade him from indulging in his hobbies after a long day at school.

Patrick's room was littered with metal band posters, the largest being a Cradle of Filth poster hanging beside his bed. Patrick had a large freezer he'd saved up his allowance for, in the corner of his room. He called that the "Freezing Place". Tonight he opened it up and his mouth perked into a dark little smile.

Within the freezer was contained numerous samples of roadkill he'd collected, some of which had just barely clung to life when the young teen had grabbed them up. He was particularly proud of a wounded cat he'd bound up and stuffed in his fridge. It of course had died of starvation and hypothermia, but these little samples all served a purpose. Mom definitely could not find out about her son's little hobby, or he guessed she'd freak out.

Not like he'd care.

Patrick as usual picked at some of the bodies, examining organs, innards, frozen blood, and the maggots that had frozen to death on their meal. He liked examining these kinds of things, thought himself to be some sort of post-mortem doctor examining the bodies.

Patrick smelled something rotting, but he just thought that was his collection's unique odor.

Some times he'd just take small, living ones, use a glue trap to get em bound up, and then put them in the fridge for later dissection purposes.

The young man pondered about one day adding a human corpse to his collection...though he'd probably need a bigger freezer. And where would he even find one? He chuckled a little to himself. He loved having his fun. And it'd been quite fun going rough on Bill earlier.

Young Delauney's smile turned into a full on perverse grin as he thought to himself, Maybe next time I can pinch his weener. Would he gasp in pain, or...would he then let me rub it a little to make it feel better? Oh Billy, you're mine. You're ALL mine. Not gonna let Jan or Fatshit Mitch have him any more. You're mine to hurt, to laugh at, to take joy in...oh yeah, nerdy little Billy and mean, tall Patrick...

He turned around, content in his dark daydreams, seeing a dog crouching on his bed - black tar pouring out of its eyes, nose, mouth, and several holes ripped into its body. Its face was contorted into an all too human smile - eyes rolling around in the head freely. Patrick could see its teeth were all sharp, all looking like fangs even as some were broken and chipped. That voice again, "Sneaky...sneaky evil Patrick...you have sins on your head, sins in your hand...so I'm going to rip off both!"

Patrick only barely managed to move out of the way as the dog's mouth suddenly tore wider on the sides as it leaped for him, leaving the disturbed boy to watch as the tar dog collided with his fridge. He was already out and running as the dog got back up, now covered in writhing, suddenly living maggots and with the parts of the frozen animals and roadkill sticking out of it in numerous places.

It leaped out of Patrick's room's window and howled ...trailing off into vicious laughter.

--------

I was at home, thinking of ways to try and fight that thing - maybe it had all the weaknesses of a dog given it had the body of one. I didn't doubt for a moment whatever that thing was, it was not actually a dog. It was certainly wearing one, but whatever this thing was...

My thoughts were disrupted as I heard the house phone ringing.

I answered it, and was surprised to hear Patrick on the other end, "B-Billy...please...I need to--to stay at your place...please...I saw the tar thing...the dog. The thing that made me call you out."

Patrick was definitely in trouble too - and I didn't have the heart to deny him a place to stay, especially with this thing on the loose. "O-Okay man. No picking on me...please be careful on your way over. I saw it too."

"Sure thing dude. T-Thanks." Patrick almost sounded like he was about to cry to me. That was the first time he'd ever seemed...vulnerable to me. I could almost not picture it, big and tall, handsome Patrick being scared of anything. But here the call was, here was his horrified tone...and I couldn't let the bully go and potentially let him die.

(Chapter 2 finished)
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Creative Outlets / Re: Niam Writes Horror
« Last post by Tolpuddle Martyr on September 23, 2017, 02:22:44 am »
Eeek, continue.
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Creative Outlets / Re: Niam Writes Horror
« Last post by niam2023 on September 23, 2017, 02:16:28 am »
It best resembles pitch black tar, like the material from a tar pit.
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