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Slender Tricks "Just run, Pewdie!" Cry screamed, hopping over the rocks in the large creek, in the middle of the woods.
Running was all they could do, but they knew the beast was faster. That thing would always win, no matter what they did. If they ran, walked, crawled, or begged, that thing would show no mercy. The two men knew what happened to the people who entered these woods, and they would try anything just to escape.
"What about T-" Pewdie tried to say, almost in tears.
"It's too late, Pewds!" Cry screamed, trying to get his friend to catch up with him.
Cry and Pewdie ran towards the other shore line of the creek, hoping over the rigged rocks, trying not to fall into the water. Unfortunately, as they reached the shore, the familiar lack of face, well suited man, appeared on the bank, those tentacles beginning to flail, ready to grab up anything that came close.
"Pewds, stop!" Cry screeched as he just about fell over
“This way, Pewdie!” I commanded, while pointing my sword to the right. I did it even though he couldn’t see me. All he could see was the small golden statue in his hand, but he heard me. That small object was the connection between his world and mine.
“Ok, Stephano.” He replied. I walked down the dark, molded hallway next to my best bro. I wore a golden long-sleeve shirt, flats, & jeans which were underneath a long skirt. My hair tied up underneath my turban.
Something was… DIFFERENT, about this custom mod. It’s so cold… It felt a bit eerie, being in the west wing. Like it usually does when the game isn’t played; when the castle is our home… when the dangers are horrifyingly real!
Do you remember Bluey? Or Sammy Sue? Probably not. To you it may just look like he just forgot about those characters. But in reality, they died. When amnesia is like that if you die, it’s for good. There are no respaw
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More