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The Six Strings that Drew Blood

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Search results for: ‘Signed’ ‘folk’ ‘guitar’

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04 November 2013 Dylan4r:

Hey I got this cool signed guitar for sale, for 40 bucks you can come and pick it up.

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04 November 2013 Nathanmusic:

Hey who signed the guitar, I’m willing to buy it.

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04 November 2013 Dylan4r:

Some very famous folk artist, forgot his name. Anyway you want to buy it?

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04 November 2013 Nathanmusic:

I have to think about it, I let you know tomorrow.

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04 November 2013 Dylan4r:

No please, you can have it for 10 bucks if you pick it up today!

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04 November 2013 Nathanmusic:

Wow, what a deal. I will come pick it up, I’ll sent you a private message.

Why do you want to get rid of that guitar so badly?

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04 November 2013 Dylan4r:

Great thank you so much!

Personal reasons.

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07 November 2013 Nathanmusic:

Anyone who wants to buy a guitar signed by Willie Nelson? 20 bucks and it is yours!

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08 November 2013 Nathanmusic:

Please someone? You can get a signed Willie Nelson guitar for free!

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08 November 2013 Djjaxxie:

Wow really? A signed Willie Nelson guitar for free??…

Be Careful…

You never thought your life would come down to this, a choice between your heart and your life. Your heart is pounding in your chest like it’s trying to make up for years of beats that it may never know, and every breath has an amazing taste, as if the air itself had a flavor. You can hear the waves of the lake, though it’s at least five miles outside of town, or is it the blood in your ears that you’re hearing, each crash of the waves matching the samba beat of your faltering heart. This must be your body accepting the inevitable suddenness that goes hand in hand with death, your body acknowledging the impending doom that is staring at you from the locked portal of your front door. You might be wondering how you came to be in this moment between the light of life and the darkness of everlasting silence in death. Since you’re going to die anyway, why not remember the series of events that led you so far into this world of bitter fear and the horrifying, heart-stopping realization of your imminent demise.

It was only a few months ago that your life seemed perfectly normal, the trivial worries of everyday life hardly more than a simple nuisance that rarely tickled your mind with it’s normalcy and humdrum of living the so-called American Dream.…

Watch Out, He’ll Get You Too

I’m not sure how much time I have left until he finds me, but I can assure you that it isn’t much. I know, I know, you want an explanation. Don’t worry, you’ll get one. But before I can give it to you, I must warn you: If you hear my story, he WILL get you.
(Note: Anything preceded and followed by an asterix (*) is a realization I had as I wrote down my story.)

~~~

It was the beginning of the Fall of 2012 when my son and I moved to a nice, cozy house by the woods in southeastern Pennsylvania. I was so excited to finally be away from the hustle-bustle of Philadelphia and go to a nice, quiet place so I could start writing a book. Writing a book was something I wished to do since I was a boy.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t move solely for myself. This was also very beneficial to my son, who was being bullied incessantly in school. The bullying was to such a degree that he would cry himself to sleep most nights. This was a new beginning for him too.

The day we moved, my son kept telling me he had a bad feeling about it.…

Psychological Warfare

There are times when you feel as if you’re being watched. Usually you are not, at least that’s what you think. Sometimes it is a pressure on your neck or an itch you can’t scratch away.

“What could it be?” you ask yourself. “Nothing, I hope.”

Is it the Boogeyman? Your childhood closet monster? A ghost? …maybe.

You tell yourself that none of those things are real, only mere figments of your imagination. You will continue to think so. That is, of course, until it’s too late.

“What’s too late? What will get me?” you ask.

I will get you.

Now, you must be thinking, “But what are you?” Well, human, silly silly human…Why don’t you turn around and see for yourself?…

The Cabal

“Whom the Gods would destroy, they first make mad”

Prometheus, The Masque of Pandora

In the upper echelons of society there exists an ever growing group of individuals with entirely too much time on their hands. The members hark from around the world, but share similar traits. Often from lives of exceptional wealth, they are apathetic individuals, detached from day to day life and merely looking for the next distraction. In this club they find that something they have been seeking to fill the void. The club allows its members anonymity and encourages pseudonyms taken from ancient gods.

Now the name of the game is Despair. The members compete against each other, and a recognised hierarchy exists for individuals that have proven proficient in the past. A random person from across the world will be elected and presented to the player, who will then proceed to tear apart the person’s life in the most entertaining fashion. The resources of the cabal extend far and wide, and with the significant money at their disposal there are few doors that cannot be unlocked. The game is scored based on the speed with which the player can get the target to dispatch themselves.

It’s not clear exactly how long the club has been in existence, but the earliest records were shortly after World War 2.…

Train Ride

It had been a long, tiring day at work. It was quiet as I waited alone for the train. It was a bit after midnight, and so dark that I could only see the square foot around me that the small light illuminated.

Fortunately, I wasn’t stuck waiting long for the train. Eagerly, I ran in the second the doors opened.

There were only two other men in the compartment, not unusual for this time of night. The place reeked of smoke from the older man huffing on a cigarette. He took another long drag of it and watched me as I came in and took my seat.

I sat and looked up at the other man, sitting across from the smoker. He was only about 5 seats away, but his face was hidden by his hood, so I had trouble making out his features. His eyes, though… I could see those clearly. One was normal, but the other was red, where it should be white. He stared shamelessly back at me, with a tight, almost pained expression. I smiled at him, trying to break the tension, but he just stared. I looked out the window, trying to ignore his gaze, but I could still feel his eyes on me.…

Curiosity

The detective escorted the parents through the mortuary. “I’m so very sorry for this. I have to warn you, this will be a rather large shock. You need to prepare yourselves.”

He led them to one of the metal drawers and pulled it open, revealing a small body wrapped in white material. “Are you ready?” he asked. Slowly and reluctantly, they nodded. When he pulled aside the sheet, the woman fell down to her knees, crying and retching. The husband lowered himself to her level and buried her face into his chest, squeezing his eyes shut in a failed attempt to remain stoic and calm for his wife. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He cleared his throat and quietly choked out a few barely audible words. “That’s… that’s her. That’s our girl”.

On the table lay a small child, around the age of 8. Her face, arms, and shoulders were half eaten, with tiny rodent bite marks scattered across her skin. Stiff white hairs littered her torn dress and matted blonde curls. On the half of her face that remained intact was a joyful, delighted smile, frozen for the rest of time.

“H-how?” gasped the man.…

Angel Eyes

“Anna! Wake up! My angel is here!”

“What?” I eased one eye open until I was squinting at my brother. I would have opened them farther, except I couldn’t. He was shining a damn flashlight in my face.

I shooed my little brother away that night, barely even bothering to look. That was the biggest mistake I have ever made.

My mother had always been… “abusive”, for lack of a better word. She would yell at us, demean us, there was never a shortage of nasty words. As far as verbal abuse goes, Mom was dead on. Physically is where the line gets blurry. She hit us, for sure. But the times she did were few and far between, and honestly didn’t really hurt us. Mom’s abuse was mostly mental.

The worst was the time Brian let the puppy out. He had just gotten the dog for his 7th birthday, we hadn’t even had a chance to name it yet. He said he “thought it would be a good idea to let the puppy go exploring”. The puppy was hit by a car almost instantly. Mom dragged Brian out to the curb and screamed at him to look at the dog, then threw him to the ground and left him sitting there, crying.…

Alone

Alone…

You never have thought of the concept alone before, but as you are in your bed, unable to sleep your mind starts to wander. You think about what you did or what you are going to do tomorrow. Then, you start to think of darker subjects, subjects you wish you had never thought of. You wonder if you are the only one if the house awake at this hour. You wonder if you are the only one awake…in your room. Right there you hear small and subtle creaks in your kitchen.

Right away you pass it off as just the wind. But then you hear it again, this time you know it can’t be, I mean just a second ago there was no wind but a breeze. Maybe you’re imagining it, yeah it has to be that; I mean no one else is awake and you’re certain you locked the door. Minutes seem like hours and you hear the creak again! But this time it seems closer, how could it? Your imagination and mind are playing tricks I mean you live in a good neighborhood, there’s never any crime here. Your thoughts are cut off mid sentence as you hear the noise which seems to be just out your door!…

Body Parasite

It was the normal routine for me- wake up, get ready, work for hours, go home, eat, and sleep. By ‘normal routine,’ I mean ‘painfully repetitive routine.’

I’ve been walking home from work lately, mostly because my car needs to get fixed and partly because I didn’t want to have to pay for a cab, I have a low paying job and I live by myself since my parents have been dead for a few months, forcing me to quit college so I could pay the bills. However, this night feels….. off, somehow. It’s like someone is following me, but maybe the person behind me is just going in the same direction.

Curious, I took out my phone, not to make a call or text anyone, but to look at the reflection of the person behind me. Of course, I couldn’t see much, it was dark and cell phone screen reflections aren’t really the best. What I saw was a slender figure wearing a long trench coat and- huh?

The person behind me, most likely a woman, her face had been shaded by the darkness, but after passing a street light, I could see her smile widely. Her eyes and cheekbones were sunken, and her lips were… were they… rotting?!…

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