oldpalryo

[oldpalryo]

Me rethinking my guardian's backstory for the fourth time:

[oldpalryo]

A Ghost Story (2017) dir. David Lowery

[oldpalryo]

I hate the fact i wasn’t born into a family of witches living out of a cavern in rural oregon

[oldpalryo]

Started trying out painting minis seeing as i’ve not much else to do and while i’m certainly not an expert by any means - i don’t think they look too bad

#dungeons and dragons #dnd #miniatures

[oldpalryo]

[oldpalryo]

This is my D&D bard, Jeff Mothblum and this is his story: Living alone for what seems like forever can fester what some may recognise as boredom. For Jeff, boredom was just the way life was, until one day he found something so very interesting it changed his life forever. On the edge of his dim and dark woodland was a cottage which wasn't there last winter. Outside the cottage was a small pink creature that frolicked in the dirt. Finding out an elderly man was keeping this creature hostage, Jeff promptly ate the man and took the little pink creature as his friend.

Jeff has since learned that eating other beings to take their livestock is not appropriate behaviour and is now trying his best to be an upstanding Cryptid citizen.

#DND #dungeons and dragons #d&d story #d&d ocs #oc #jeff goldblum

[oldpalryo]

“ The sun was setting over the last safe city. The rays of golden red flickered past the damaged turrets of the outer wall and danced down onto the streets below. People were still lingering around the shops and the steam of noodle soups and broth hazed the air below the rooftops. The distant rumble of a NLS drive bounced off the concrete walls until muffled by the ebb and flow of commotion and conversation within the streets. The ship landed in a delivery bay outside a large food dispensary in the eastern section of the city. As Nyris walked out of the ship, Tenrit was talking to the port worker. Looking through his visor of void light, he could see some of the lights behind drawn curtains being turned on in preparation for the night. Tenrit had managed to wrangle a deal to keep the ship here for a bit while they were following up on the mysterious delivery. Glimmer exchanged hands and Tenrit wandered over to meet Nyris and the both of them took in the sight of the city for a moment before heading for an alley along the side of the dispensary that would lead onto a main road, chatting about old memories from these very streets. “

#destiny #destiny 2

[oldpalryo]

Hung to Dry

There’s a child hanging from a crossbeam.

A crucifix stood amongst the bay.

It’s limbs too short so the nails lay clean.

From its neck it hangs by a thread.

Its body hung bare and its eyes eaten out.

The ravens sing and circle like dancers.

The ocean pours waves full of memories and puss

Onto the beach of sand and flesh.

The child cries so all his blood may run,

His eyes no longer block the flow.

The skin upon his chest is flattened and ragged,

His ribs rip through to feel the wind.

He hangs not a martyr, but an effigy to you.

The devil that stands before his cross.

Do his fat filled cheeks not seem eerily familiar?

Does his rotting face not stare like a mirror?

His tears are yours dear devil.

His voice lost within your throat.

The shore of memories lies quiet at night.

The silence cuts his skin like ice.

Will you talk to him dear devil?

Sing him into the terrors of sleep.

Or do you stand in silence with the bay?

Watching him scream nothing and writhe.

He’s dead but he’s hurting,

And our dear devil took his soul.

#poem #poetry #prosepoetry #growing up #memories #sad #hell #horror #fiction #demon #childhood

[oldpalryo]

A letter to Z

It’s all over, I’m not going.

               There’s no way I can do this anymore. The endless chattering, the sitting, the hordes of the living slowly dragging their feet onto the bus. It can’t just be me though, surely. I mean, Z knows what I’m talking about, but he doesn’t really have much of a choice. I guess I should probably feel a little lucky that I can actually go out and about. You know I’m sitting here with half a mind to just write obscenities repeatedly on the page. It’s slowly beginning to get excruciatingly difficult to articulate myself without coming across like some sort of lobotomite. I just can’t seem to put any of this crap into words, I’m consistently surrounded by people. Almost every weekday to be precise. They’re nice enough as well, not really come across anyone who’s actively malicious. Don’t get me wrong there’s people I don’t like, but that doesn’t make them bad people. I’m not all that smart, I’ll be honest. There’s just something about those cubicles and corridors that siphons any semblance of a smile off my face. The whole place is so intricate and pretty but it’s all face. Every brick in that god damned, cursed, and caffeinated complex is out for blood. My blood. In all honesty, if it was just blood the place was after I’d slit my wrists and wipe my arms all over the walls, but that’s evidently not enough. It wants my mind. That little spigot in my head just keeps dripping. It just keeps dripping. Drop after drop, tap after tap. I can’t ever get just a second of silence. It’s all that places’ fault. I wasn’t like this prior to enlisting. I wasn’t this jumpy that’s for sure. Even Z makes me jump when he pops in to see me. I never hear him come in so I’m, rather ironically, not surprised when he makes me jump. You’d think his horns would hit the top of the door frame. That or I’d smell the sulphur but apparently not. If I didn’t have him to offload onto or ask for advice, I’m certain I’d have racked up a body count of either myself or a couple of workmates. It’s not always so morbid though. The conversations I mean. Sometimes he’ll just tell me about what he did that day. Sometimes he’s just been pottering around the apartment but when he gets bored, he’ll haunt the old lady who lives above us. When she eventually keels it, I’m certain it’ll have been because Z went up and made her heart burst out of fright. I can’t help but laugh when he tells me about it though. Nonetheless he calms me down a little when I need it. Well, most of the time. I think we’re both in agreement that this has all gone too far this time. Those walls will never stop screaming for me. I can feel their concrete tendrils pulling on the stem of my brain and spine even when I’m at home. Me and Z must admit defeat when it is as obvious as it has been the past week. I’ve chucked the chemicals and what-not into the bag. A little flick from the old Zippo and ‘wham, bam, thank you mam’. Should shut those walls right up. Z said I can always go bunk with him after I ‘void my own warranty’. If you catch my drift. Maybe I’ll be the one to short-circuit the old ladies’ heart instead. Anyways, as I assume you’ll be the first to read this Z, do me a favour and burn what I don’t blow up.

#story #letter #demon #isolation #fiction #writers #prose poem #short story