Since I couldnt find any other topic covering this 2 things I decided to create one =D
and here it goes the first journal:

And She Disappeared

And she disappeared... The emptiness of human words drove her into what they call insanity. The love for life was replaced by sorrows and despair, yet a small sight of hope gave her strenght, however, in her eyes it was just prolonging her vain life. She had no one who could lend her a shoulder, where she could cry and express the true feelings behind her mask. Finally one day, she gave herself up, and disappeared... On the last moments of her life, she tried to think about all the beautiful moments of her life; however she could not find any. She cried from the bottom of her soul to the God that she praised in her youth, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not fully believe in him. And she disappeared...

also Im gonna take a short moment to advertise my blog lol! www.nihilmorari.blogspot.com

Sad story, and so realistic at the same time...
I do the same in myspace, so far I've written two stories in spanish

Ok, here's mine:

Gleam

"Stop!" damn, I raised my voice again. And that lovely, lovely smell from the kitchen with the sound of King Crimson confused me, so that I forgot what I wanted to say. I just had to stand and look out of that big, dirty window, so that he wouldn't see how my eyes search for him.
"Again..." again what?! Damn, I have to concentrate, I shouldn't let him to confuse me... We are the same though. So, what am I going to say now?
"Again... again it rains." No wonder, the sun is shining for three days now.
That King Crimson song ended, that lovely, lovely King Crimson song. I just had to listen to it again.
"No!" Again, I shouted aloud. I actually don't know why I say some words louder than others. I had to end my sentence, but suddenly, I knew that I have to create the atmosphere, which I always wanted to have, with silence.
I took a mug and drank some coco out of it. It smelled awfully, but since my neighbour pays me for the appartmant I have to drink it.
"Epitaph... my favourite King Crimson song... you know why?" I could feel how he'll say yes, but he remained quiet, for I know he regrets now.
I knew that I mustn't tell him. Again I stood infront that big, dirty window. It was so nice looking at that big sun and the clouds all around it. When I was young, well I'm not saying that I'm not young now, but when I was young, I always stared through this window, only that at that time it wasn't dirty. I can remember once, when my mother fell asleep, I watched through it for all day.
Then she woke up and I didn't watch through it anymore.
"Ice cream. Ice cream would be nice, thank you."
He once invited me... no wait... I invited him. We never went out together.
"I should finally clean this window, what do you think?" I tried to start a conversation, but he was just standing there, as always, at the doors and observe my spine. With glass of cognac in his hand.
"I should turn around," I though "I cannot stand like this for ever like I always do, I long to see him." But again, I knew how disapointed I'll feel when I won't see him there, again, with that lovely glass of cognac that my sister once bought when she went to supermarket.
Like always, I stood and look through that big, dirty window.

I wrote a second part for "And she dissapiered" this one is called Sin, though I dont think its quite as good as the first one

Sin
She, who always lived a miserable life, decided that time has come to put an end to it. Memories came up to her and made some kind of sick movie that was playing over and over again in her mind. Her impulse to confront death face to face was so powerful that nothing could change her will now. Yet, she found strength to say a last prayer;
“God, thou who knowest all, thou whose art none can hide from, forgive my sins and deliver me to thy holy and blessed home.”
As she finished, she remembered what her mother had taught her, and started to question herself and God:
“God if you know everything that happened and that will happen, will you condemn those who chose to end their vain lives earlier? Perhaps you owns us an apologize for creating and make us live in this hell.” after she finished these sayings... she killed herself…

These stories are in video form, however it has no speech and the filming is in the form of a comic or storyline. There is only music. I give credits of these videos for one of my friends who is experimenting with filming. Originally, these videos were supposed to be displayed in a high school art exhibition, but was declined because it was deemed too explicit. ( oooh, spooky! ) The music is alternative however it fits the nature of the videos perfectly.

pt.1: http://youtube.com/watch?v=psY1yPd3XLU

pt.2: http://youtube.com/watch?v=sVoOxFrLenE

allright, here goes then



The Saw




The house looked almost deserted in the cloudy night as the man leaved the car and walked out,

away from the calming droning of the radiator and out in the rain. The cold drops almost felt like they were stinging his bald, pale head, or at least that was what he thought it should feel like, just like the droning from the radiator should feel calming... or? he wasn't sure, but thats the way it should be... He slowly walked through the downpour. It made his dark coat look almost black. He did not like rain, of that he were at least sure.




He sighted, he had to feel, or They would see him, They would hurt him, come in the dreams, the evil dreams. They would burn him, laugh at him as he tossed and turned in agony... Or worse! They could hurt them, the Children, the Children who used to huddle in the corner, small and terrified, They would cut the Children, the faces, tear them apart with the saw, all nine of them. with the saw, the big chainsaw the pale one with the tattoo always sat and petted as if it were an animal, a dangerous animal. Saw... No! They must not hurt them, he had to protect the Children, he had to do what They told him, had to protect the Children.




He rounded the car to the trunk, there it was, the saw. how did it get there? He didn't know. He only knew that he were supposed to use it, the voice told him that. The saw were heavy and cold, but it felt almost eager, alive. He slowly walked towards the house, he didn't know why, he only knew he were supposed to go there, that he should do something, because otherwise They would hurt the children.

He approached the door, tried to open it, but it were locked, he looked around, but saw no one, so he cracked the small window on the door. He cut himself on the shards, he bled, but he didn't care, he had to protect the Children.

Somewhere a dog started barking, but it was far away, so he didn't care.

He slowly reached in and unlocked the door. the dog lost interest and stopped barking, it continued its nightly doings somewhere else.

He slowly sneaked through the door, careful not to bump into anything. he didn't know why, but he walked slowly towards the stairs across the room, his heavy boots scraped against the floor.




suddenly someone turned on the lights! he saw a man dressed in only boxers and a t shirt stand there, in front of a blue door with flowers on it. the man were quite well built, but he had a weird mustache that made his general appearance kind of silly. The man held a bat in his hand and suddenly everything was clear to him! there were a child behind that door, and he already saw in his head how the man with the bat would hurt it!




He leaped at the man, the chainsaw had started, (when did it start?) the roaring sound echoed through the house. he felt the saw cut through the mans bat and continue through his shoulder, only temporarily slowed by his bones...




He took a long step over the mans body, he heard crying through the door...

He felt that he had to get in there and rescue the child, to take it in his arms and tell it that everything as ok.




Then he entered the room, and saw the child in the bed, a beautiful child, a boy about three years old...

Suddenly he sees the pale man on the other side of the bed! The pale man comes closer, the pale man has the saw again, he walks closer to the child...

No! he has to protect the boy, the pale one must not take the child!

He grabs the child, but the pale one is still reaching for it!

He sees the boys terrified face, striped with tears.

-please forgive me, but this is better then letting the pale one get you...

He presses the little boy against his solid chest, at first the little body is trying to get loose, but it gets more and more powerless, until it stops breathing at all...

He collapses, awaiting the sharp pain of the chain cutting through his own flesh, but the room is empty. outside the neighbor finds the boys fathers mutilated corpse in the hallway. he runs out and calls the police, who find a giant man lying shaking across the child's bed, still clutching the almost crushed boys body to his chest, his pale,tattooed face and gray coat reflecting a twin in the mirror on the other side of the bed.

The cops never found the saw...



well, what ya think?

Well, all Ihave written is in spanish, I translated one story for someone very special who wanted to read it. So, since I translated it... here it goes:

THE CONVERSION (May 4, 2007, 12:57 PM)

The night was clear and the Moon was bright. The vampire was sitting on a ceiling, contemplating the lights of the city and searching for a prey. He didn't look older than 20 years, spite he had been already two centuries as an inhabitant of night. Wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, sport shoes and earrings, he patiently looked for a prey. Many people walked in the street under his feet, men and women, young and old, beauty and ugly. Suddenly a young woman called his attention. Short and thin, black hair and big brown eyes. As soon as he saw her he knew he had found more than just dinner.

With calmness he let himself fall from the ceiling, landing softly, and started to follow her. The young woman's black skirt fluttered with sensuality in every step she gave, while her delicate hands grazed her hips carelessly. Suddenly she stopped, turned around and looked into the eyes of the vampire. She knew what he wanted. She knew what he was. She smiled at him. He didn't know what to do. Never, in his long existence he had been discovered. He was paralyzed.
- I know what you're looking for - She said.
- (?)
- I've watched you, VAMPIRE. I know where you sleep, where you hunt. I know you like music, and that you play the violin every night before going out. I've seen you for months.
- Impossible - Whispered the vampire
- Take what you came looking for - She said with calmness.

There was a moment of silence. None of them moved. The whisper of the night wind could be heard. Finally she approached calmly. Surrounded the vampire's neck with her soft arms and huddled against him, putting her head on his shoulder. He hugged her with strength, while he bit his tongue and his mouth was filled with blood. He grabbed the girl's face tenderly and kissed her. A long and passionate kiss. Their tongues danced in the middle of the blood's heat and the agitated breathing. When there was no more blood, they separated their mouths, with their eyes still closed. "Now I have what I want? What we both want." He whispered into her ear, while he fainted with a smile, and the first gleams of dawn's red light appeared in the building tops.

When she woke up it was night again, and the vampire was lying half slept by her side. She hugged him with strength and covered his face in kisses. He woke up, smiling. She just looked into his eyes and smiled.
- "Good night, my sweet vampire."
____

I know, I know... I'm a worthless romantic.

I have a new one.... maybe we can bring this topic back to life.


Untitled
The young man is asleep. The slow shaking of the Metro made him sleep. The sun starts to hide behind the mountains. Storm clouds gather in the south, where he lives. The buzz that comes out of his earphones causes that everyone looks at him. But he's far away now. His eyes are closed, his arms crossed, his mind in a distant place.

As the raindrops start hitting the Metro windows, he walks calmly through an empty street, with his hands on the pockets of his black cargo pants. The white pentagram in his black t-shirt shines with the sun, and so does his grey hair and black goatee. He turns left, then right, then straight forward for three blocks. The houses are all grey and white, with flowery front gardens. He's tired he sits on the boardwalk, thinking of where to go. He's lost.

A figure appears in the horizon. Small and bright. And coming close and closer to him. He stands up quickly, the boney fists ready to deliver a blow without mercy, as a tear falls from his eyes. He's prevented, his soul has been hurt so many times. Blood starts dripping from his fists as the nails penetrate the palms. The figure is getting closer, a young woman, walking slowly. The soil is so hot it heats the feet inside the black sneakers of the young man. Her blonde hair shines under the sun as if it was a little star. Closer, closer?

Finally she arrives. Her blue eyes find his green eyes. They stare, wandering into their souls. He opens his fists. His hands are bleeding no more. He's at ease. She kisses his tears. He touches her soft face and stares into her blue eyes. They grab their hands. For a couple minutes they stay like that, silent, staring into each other's eyes, until he closes his. His fear is gone. His pain is gone. His tortured soul feels at ease. He is alone no more.

Their lips get closer and closer. Their eyes are now closed. Their breathing is more agitated. Their pulse quickens. Their lips barely touch and they sigh; and then, gently press into each other in a?


- Mister! Mister! - A boy calls - Mister this is the last station!
- Dammit? Only a dream? - the young man whispers.
- Dreams can become true sir? you'll meet - the boy smiles - you and the girl from your dream.
- Huh?
- Goodbye sir. - and gets out of the train

The young man gets out of the Metro too. There's no one in the station. The rain has fallen, and the night winds howls. He cracks his neck, and slowly walks to his house.
_____________________________

I'm still a worthless romantic.

Written by +{Jonas}+ on 08.02.2008 at 17:35

I have a new one.... maybe we can bring this topic back to life.


Untitled
The young man is asleep. The slow shaking of the Metro made him sleep. The sun starts to hide behind the mountains. Storm clouds gather in the south, where he lives. The buzz that comes out of his earphones causes that everyone looks at him. But he's far away now. His eyes are closed, his arms crossed, his mind in a distant place.

As the raindrops start hitting the Metro windows, he walks calmly through an empty street, with his hands on the pockets of his black cargo pants. The white pentagram in his black t-shirt shines with the sun, and so does his grey hair and black goatee. He turns left, then right, then straight forward for three blocks. The houses are all grey and white, with flowery front gardens. He's tired he sits on the boardwalk, thinking of where to go. He's lost.

A figure appears in the horizon. Small and bright. And coming close and closer to him. He stands up quickly, the boney fists ready to deliver a blow without mercy, as a tear falls from his eyes. He's prevented, his soul has been hurt so many times. Blood starts dripping from his fists as the nails penetrate the palms. The figure is getting closer, a young woman, walking slowly. The soil is so hot it heats the feet inside the black sneakers of the young man. Her blonde hair shines under the sun as if it was a little star. Closer, closer?

Finally she arrives. Her blue eyes find his green eyes. They stare, wandering into their souls. He opens his fists. His hands are bleeding no more. He's at ease. She kisses his tears. He touches her soft face and stares into her blue eyes. They grab their hands. For a couple minutes they stay like that, silent, staring into each other's eyes, until he closes his. His fear is gone. His pain is gone. His tortured soul feels at ease. He is alone no more.

Their lips get closer and closer. Their eyes are now closed. Their breathing is more agitated. Their pulse quickens. Their lips barely touch and they sigh; and then, gently press into each other in a?


- Mister! Mister! - A boy calls - Mister this is the last station!
- Dammit? Only a dream? - the young man whispers.
- Dreams can become true sir? you'll meet - the boy smiles - you and the girl from your dream.
- Huh?
- Goodbye sir. - and gets out of the train

The young man gets out of the Metro too. There's no one in the station. The rain has fallen, and the night winds howls. He cracks his neck, and slowly walks to his house.
_____________________________

I'm still a worthless romantic.

Hehe clever twist at the end, and very romantic -O

I also wrote another one today ><

The Endless Search

Upon my consciousness I seek the source of this feeling... Which delivers me a sudden sensation of despair and of cluelessness that lead me to the fatuous desire of consuming my own soul. Yet, I have the impression that I lack something; that something is supposed to be surrounding me... Be it my sanity? Perhaps in my search for awareness I came upon the thin line between reality and fiction. I may not tell when this sensation started, for as long as I can remember it has been with me, and it is following my every move.

No matter where my face is turned to, no matter whose face I gaze upon... No thoughts I have but the imagery of my own death, yet no reason I may find... For my life has been nothing but the life desired by all. I do not recall any moment where I could deeply blame myself for betraying my consciousness. Yet why does this feeling of guilt haunts me? Moment by moment I feel as I am drifting to a strange place yet I am where I have always being; in my absence everything seems to interact perfectly, and that my lack of presence means nothing to no one but myself. As I speak these words, life loses it's meaning... Minute after minute Death becomes my desired maid...

As I lay my head down trying to get rid of all of these morbid thoughts (which makes me wonder if I still carry a human soul) I come upon conclusion that life is nothing but a long and painful wait, until the day that my dear Death will come and embrace me...

Written by 4look4rd on 09.02.2008 at 05:24

Hehe clever twist at the end, and very romantic -O

I also wrote another one today ><

The Endless Search

Upon my consciousness I seek the source of this feeling... Which delivers me a sudden sensation of despair and of cluelessness that lead me to the fatuous desire of consuming my own soul. Yet, I have the impression that I lack something; that something is supposed to be surrounding me... Be it my sanity? Perhaps in my search for awareness I came upon the thin line between reality and fiction. I may not tell when this sensation started, for as long as I can remember it has been with me, and it is following my every move.

No matter where my face is turned to, no matter whose face I gaze upon... No thoughts I have but the imagery of my own death, yet no reason I may find... For my life has been nothing but the life desired by all. I do not recall any moment where I could deeply blame myself for betraying my consciousness. Yet why does this feeling of guilt haunts me? Moment by moment I feel as I am drifting to a strange place yet I am where I have always being; in my absence everything seems to interact perfectly, and that my lack of presence means nothing to no one but myself. As I speak these words, life loses it's meaning... Minute after minute Death becomes my desired maid...

As I lay my head down trying to get rid of all of these morbid thoughts (which makes me wonder if I still carry a human soul) I come upon conclusion that life is nothing but a long and painful wait, until the day that my dear Death will come and embrace me...

Thanks.

Whoa that's pretty dense stuff you've written, awesome.

I have a new one. It's something I catually did, last wednesday in the Metro. SO the conversation is me, speaking with myself.

ANECDOTE

- Why did you do that?
- Because it was what I had to do - He smiles.
- And that's it? No phone number, cell phone, e-mail?
- Nope, just a good action and a smile.
- You're crazy, or you're an idiot.
- Yeah, a bit of both.

When she got on the Metro, in the Itagüí Station, she had a handkerchief in her hand and her eyes swollen. He noticed her immediately. A young woman, thin, pretty. Brunette, black, straight hair; think lips and aristocratic nose. They looked at each other for a few seconds. She turned away, took an MP3 player out of her pink bag, and as she wore the earphones started moving her lips as if she sung.

He just watched her, as the fast guitars of a Black Metal band traveled through his ears. He smiled for himself. Opened his backpack, took a chocolate bar out and put it on his thigh, covering it with one hand. Every certain time they looked into each other's eyes. He with tranquility, she with melancholy.

- What are you going to do? - I asked-
- You'll see. My good action of the day.
- Uh?
- Wait and see. - He smiled.

"Next station, Berrío Park, station with easy access?" She stands up. So does he, with the chocolate in his hand. They get out of the wagon. He gets closer and touches her arm. Looks into her eyes and says to her, with a smile: "I think you need this more than me". He gives her the chocolate barely touching her hands with his fingers. She smiles, visibly touched. "Thank you so much?" "It is my pleasure, it really is", he answers, smiles and goes in the opposite direction.

- You got down of the Metro to give a chocolate to a complete unknown woman. Yes, she was very pretty, but dude? we're far from the Niquía station, and you didn't even get her number?
- It doesn't matter. That girl smiled, and every time she looks at the chocolate and when she eats it, or when she's going to drop the paper, if she drops it, she's gonna smile. And that's all I need.

Mmm i cant say i normally keep a journal. i only keep one when i do drugs that last longer than like 3 hours, so anything besides booze and weed gets written down.

Http://talesofthemorbid.blogspot.com/
I try to write something similar to lovecraft. I'm not a great writer, but check out this blog frequently for some gruesome tales.