- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
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- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Primarily Prefer Male
It was June 8th, 1836. The old woman was going to die. She had foretold so much. Seen so many things. She knew it was the end. Listening to the young Priest, voice quivering in halting Italian as he gave the Extreme Unction. The Priest would not die old in a bed like she would. She saw it as she watched his backside retreat through her chamber door. She saw the Russian musket ball that would kill him. All in a far away place called Crimea. The poor boy, she thought.
It was her curse. She saw death all around her. She also saw hope -- she had seen the future Pope in her revelations by God himself. In the end, everything would happen according to God's plan. She had seen how the world would end. Not in fire, but in darkness. A light sigh escaped her chapped lips.
Her eyesight had given out years ago, but even so she could still see the man in the darkness. She pulled her quilts higher up, a bead of sweat trickling down her brow. She knew not if it were from the fever or this man's presence that caused her to profuse so. She knew this man. Her gift allowed her that much. She saw the thing's that he had done. The lives snuffed. Through a hazy fog she saw Turkish soldiers screaming as they were laid on pikes. Men, on their knees, begging for their lives. She saw all this through his own eyes. This was no midnight visitor. His mere presence would have sent lesser women into hysterics. Anna Maria Taigi was made of sterner stuff.
She wet her lips with her tongue, "Why have you come, spawn of the Devil?"
She could just see his silhouette in the failing light of her bedside candle. The flicker of a tall, broad silhouette. The man was wearing a frock coat and sporting a top hat. She could just see the outline of smirking lips framed by a goatee. Long, black hair flowed down either shoulder. A cane was clasped, resting his weight upon it with both hands, leaning forwards. He spoke no words, though the old woman felt a sudden pang of bareness in her own mind. As though this man were reading her mind like a book.
It is true.
She heard the voice in her head. Anna clasped at the rosary about her neck. This foul creature of the night had infiltrated her thoughts. Buried himself deep within her to pirate away her own thoughts. She was unsettled. She held up the small wooden cross.
"God has a plan for us all. I have seen it."
That was not God's plan that you divined.
She blinked, the voice invading her mind once more. The man was gone. She sat up as much as she could, coughing up phlegm as she turned her head to scan the room. Like some nocturnal phantasm, he had disappeared into the night. She laid back down, her heart racing underneath her nightgown.
She died in the early hours of the morning.
____________________________________________
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
It was her curse. She saw death all around her. She also saw hope -- she had seen the future Pope in her revelations by God himself. In the end, everything would happen according to God's plan. She had seen how the world would end. Not in fire, but in darkness. A light sigh escaped her chapped lips.
Her eyesight had given out years ago, but even so she could still see the man in the darkness. She pulled her quilts higher up, a bead of sweat trickling down her brow. She knew not if it were from the fever or this man's presence that caused her to profuse so. She knew this man. Her gift allowed her that much. She saw the thing's that he had done. The lives snuffed. Through a hazy fog she saw Turkish soldiers screaming as they were laid on pikes. Men, on their knees, begging for their lives. She saw all this through his own eyes. This was no midnight visitor. His mere presence would have sent lesser women into hysterics. Anna Maria Taigi was made of sterner stuff.
She wet her lips with her tongue, "Why have you come, spawn of the Devil?"
She could just see his silhouette in the failing light of her bedside candle. The flicker of a tall, broad silhouette. The man was wearing a frock coat and sporting a top hat. She could just see the outline of smirking lips framed by a goatee. Long, black hair flowed down either shoulder. A cane was clasped, resting his weight upon it with both hands, leaning forwards. He spoke no words, though the old woman felt a sudden pang of bareness in her own mind. As though this man were reading her mind like a book.
It is true.
She heard the voice in her head. Anna clasped at the rosary about her neck. This foul creature of the night had infiltrated her thoughts. Buried himself deep within her to pirate away her own thoughts. She was unsettled. She held up the small wooden cross.
"God has a plan for us all. I have seen it."
That was not God's plan that you divined.
She blinked, the voice invading her mind once more. The man was gone. She sat up as much as she could, coughing up phlegm as she turned her head to scan the room. Like some nocturnal phantasm, he had disappeared into the night. She laid back down, her heart racing underneath her nightgown.
She died in the early hours of the morning.
____________________________________________
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
Hello dear reader! I sincerely hope I have not inconvenienced you by reading the above monologue. I felt it might be necessary to give a sample for the idea that has been itching the inside of my brain, like good ideas tend to do. I have heard that earwigs do the same.
Are you an adept writer? Are you interested in conspiracy? In the supernatural? Do you perhaps listen to The Black Tapes by PNWS on repeat? Were you once arrested in 2001 for trespassing at night through a graveyard? Though I may be getting too personal, I believe I might have something that's right up your alley. It involves all of the above. Except for trespassing through graveyards in 2001.
Even before Bram Stoker penned the iconic Dracula, the name had been well known throughout Eastern Europe. It was used to frighten children into bed at night. Rumors gave way to paranoia and more than one time throughout history men would go crazy with vampire hysteria, thinking their vampiric neighbors were killing children in the forests. Men and women alike were murdered and staked, to keep their lifeless bodies from rising from their graves to stalk the eternal night.
I am looking for a woman to play as a virologist opposite of my own character. I'm sure you can guess who that may be. I may be picky. I am looking for someone who is not only willing to take part in this story of conspiracy and of the macabre, but also actively shape it and drive it alongside me.
PM me or post below if you're interested. Or don't. I'm a robot. Not a cop.
Are you an adept writer? Are you interested in conspiracy? In the supernatural? Do you perhaps listen to The Black Tapes by PNWS on repeat? Were you once arrested in 2001 for trespassing at night through a graveyard? Though I may be getting too personal, I believe I might have something that's right up your alley. It involves all of the above. Except for trespassing through graveyards in 2001.
Even before Bram Stoker penned the iconic Dracula, the name had been well known throughout Eastern Europe. It was used to frighten children into bed at night. Rumors gave way to paranoia and more than one time throughout history men would go crazy with vampire hysteria, thinking their vampiric neighbors were killing children in the forests. Men and women alike were murdered and staked, to keep their lifeless bodies from rising from their graves to stalk the eternal night.
I am looking for a woman to play as a virologist opposite of my own character. I'm sure you can guess who that may be. I may be picky. I am looking for someone who is not only willing to take part in this story of conspiracy and of the macabre, but also actively shape it and drive it alongside me.
PM me or post below if you're interested. Or don't. I'm a robot. Not a cop.
