Astaroth
[*screaming into the void intensifies*]
Original poster
STAFF MEMBER
DONATING MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
- Invitation Status
- Not accepting invites at this time
- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- It varies a lot depending on my schedule, unfortunately.
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Psychological horror
Body horror
Supernatural
Giallo
Splatterpunk
Dark fantasy
Historical
Low fantasy
Magipunk
Weird West
Noir
Thriller
Gothic horror
Southern Gothic
Gaslamp fantasy
Cyberpunk
Space saga
Clockpunk
Space Western
Space opera
Paranormal
Modern fantasy
Dieselpunk
Post-Apocalyptic
Crime drama
Medieval fantasy
There was another thing which Danielle had never seen before. Again, it was uncomfortably similar to the traits of an Umbra, and that thought gave her unhappy pause. But the timbre of his voice told her that he didn't feel much differently about his fanged maw, and his words confirmed her suspicions.
"...You're in Potter's Field," she told him, her heartstrings tugging at her for this sad, faceless boy. "My name is Danielle. This is my friend's bar. Why don't you come inside?"
The streets weren't safe, even for those who knew what lurked there.
There was a hand on her mouth, a human hand, and a human man-voice hissing into her ear. This wasn't right, this wasn't how the game went, because she knew that when the thing touched her she went poof, fizzled out, dissolved into nothing just like all the others. So it was a person, a real real person? A real dead person. Dead as a doornail, dead like her. It made her stop screaming, which was funny because she didn't know she knew how to stop screaming. And then there was a hand on her hand, her ugly ugly nasty hand, and it made her sob a little in the long dark corridor because he would feel and he would know and then he'd leave and she'd be all alone again. But if he didn't, if he didn't leave, it was horrible anyway because she wasn't pretty and he would see it and then she'd cry, cry, cry...
Krystaline... Help me!
It was a voice which Krystaline would recognize anywhere. Daniel's voice. Daniel was calling her...
"...You're in Potter's Field," she told him, her heartstrings tugging at her for this sad, faceless boy. "My name is Danielle. This is my friend's bar. Why don't you come inside?"
The streets weren't safe, even for those who knew what lurked there.
There was a hand on her mouth, a human hand, and a human man-voice hissing into her ear. This wasn't right, this wasn't how the game went, because she knew that when the thing touched her she went poof, fizzled out, dissolved into nothing just like all the others. So it was a person, a real real person? A real dead person. Dead as a doornail, dead like her. It made her stop screaming, which was funny because she didn't know she knew how to stop screaming. And then there was a hand on her hand, her ugly ugly nasty hand, and it made her sob a little in the long dark corridor because he would feel and he would know and then he'd leave and she'd be all alone again. But if he didn't, if he didn't leave, it was horrible anyway because she wasn't pretty and he would see it and then she'd cry, cry, cry...
Krystaline... Help me!
It was a voice which Krystaline would recognize anywhere. Daniel's voice. Daniel was calling her...