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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 10 2007, 11:43 PM (321 Views) | |
| *Inkheart | Jun 10 2007, 11:43 PM Post #1 |
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Honorary Member
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This is a preview for an upcoming story: The Gothic Journal of N.R. Blackly. 11:30 June 10 THE BURDEN OF SURVIVAL Some stupid **cker once said that every man is born equal. He has obviously never lived in Old town, where everything down to your **cking eye color dictates your right to live, and where trust will only drag you down to the level of the mother **cker who concieved of it. The burden of survival is not rested on the shoulders of faith, but on the godless urge to hurt, to **ck, to be. MORE COMING SOON |
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| + *thebalanceiswithin | Jun 11 2007, 12:25 AM Post #2 |
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Elite Member
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seems like this upcoming story is going to be interesting, i'll make sure to read it when you post the rest :D |
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| ** Death's servant | Jun 11 2007, 10:12 AM Post #3 |
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Reflection
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think you said **ck enough **cking times? just kiding very cool begining. |
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| anti-social | Jun 11 2007, 12:13 PM Post #4 |
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Extreme Member
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I like it .... Misterious |
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| *Inkheart | Jun 11 2007, 03:55 PM Post #5 |
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Honorary Member
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CONTINUING THE STORY: 3:52 June 11 I BLAME THE BROKEN SYSTEM Anyways, I guess I should introduce myself. I am N.R. Blackly, hardcore goth and punk rocker. The following are memoirs of an ally prowler and ex-drugy. The tales I tell may disgust you, but if your still reading this, it's a sign you have a **cking stomach. People have told me that I don't have a very positive outlook in life. In response, I tell them to go screw a door knob. I do this because I know that these are the types of people who will drag you down in a place like Old town. Optimism might help people with enough money to ignore reality, but when your born of a battered and drug eaten prostitute in an allyway where she originally bought her meth, you're living that reality. Don't worry, I wasn't parentless. On the contrary, I've had an abundance of mothers and fathers. They're called foster families, and every one of them has been completely **cked over. They all had drugs, booze, and blood down to the roots of their heritage. Only one guy was okay. His name was John, and he never hit me, he gave me food and shelter, and he was gassed in the chamber for cutting up little boys. So, I ran from the pigs who wanted to drop me in another foster's lap. I am sixteen and alone in a rotting labyrinth of allyways and broken lives. Pity me not, for you live on my poverty, my blood money. I blame the broken system. |
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| + *cabecabe4 | Jun 11 2007, 05:17 PM Post #6 |
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PLEASE DELETE THIS ACCOUNT
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....interesting.... |
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| ** Death's servant | Jun 12 2007, 10:33 AM Post #7 |
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Reflection
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**ck thats one screwed up system. |
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| ChipChamp | Jun 12 2007, 11:27 AM Post #8 |
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Have fun!
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N.R. Blackly... Lol :) I'm never good a picking names for people myself, and you seemed to make that a very simple name for a goth, yet it sounds right too! |
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| ** Death's servant | Jun 12 2007, 06:27 PM Post #9 |
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Reflection
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What does n.r. stand for? |
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| *Inkheart | Nov 4 2007, 12:12 AM Post #10 |
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Honorary Member
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NeveR ask. |
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| *Inkheart | Nov 4 2007, 12:57 AM Post #11 |
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12:58 pm Novemeber 4th Well, I finally met a girl who lives up to my standards in this f*cking trench town. Her name's Wes Haeylby, pronounced Wes High-bee. A rather strange name, in most peoples opinions (although I think it's f*cking awesome), she is of Welsh descent, and has just about as screwed up of a life as I do. I discovered this as we were sitting outside a mosh concert, about to get stoned on a giant hooka my friend darren had just bought. While waiting for him, we were sitting scerenely and looking out to the southern end of town, where a satanist clan would burn a giant inverted cross every sunday. It happend to be a sunday. So everything was nice, the moon was a sliver like Death's sickle. I eased my arm around her, and all of a sudden, she just breaks down and starts crying in my lap. I ask her what she was freaking out about, and she started telling me her messed up story: She was a reknowned Wiccan in the sad excuse of a highschool she attended when she was 14. One day, as she's eaitng out back, a group of Catholics guys (known by the school as the 'Saints') sneak up on her, and put a hood over her head and beat her until she's out cold. Then, while swhe's unconciuos, they strip off her clothes, leaving only her panties on, and handcuff her too the flagpole of the school, with a sign around her neck that says 'heretic'. She managed to escape by pulling her left hand out of the cuffs, breaking her wrist in the doing, and hiding in a corner until two in the morning, by which time, she had come to her senses and walked to her apartment. Unfortunatley, the local Irish hitman was waiting at the apartment for her roommate, who had made a bad meth deal. She escaped with a bullet wound in her shoulder, and she hitched a ride all the way to Old Town. And thats how we met. I gave her a ride to 4th and Cedar, where she planned to start her new life at. I however, being an observant and generous person, noticed that she looked stressed out, and that she had some bruises. So, I offered her a puff on some weed I had gotten from a friends homegrown garden, as a stress relief. She was pretty suspicious at first, but she unwound, and by some strange state of affairs, we woke up the next morning in eachothers arms (fully clothed and both still virgins, you sick minded romantic freak). After that, we've been dating for about 4 weeks, up to the moment I'm writing this entry. Speak of the devil, she just walked into the room! Looking stunning! And, her hands now under my shirt, and she's asking me to have some fun with her on the couch and put the diary down. I like her idea. See you later! |
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| *Inkheart | Nov 4 2007, 12:37 PM Post #12 |
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Honorary Member
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Unknown time/date f*ck! f*ckf*ckf*ckf*ck! f*ck! WHAT THE HELL IS WITH WES?! SHE'S BEEN SO f*ckING PISSY LATELY! JESUS CHRIST! [Illegible handwriting] AND SHE WAS JUST GETTING ALL FREAKED OUT! WHAT, SHE CAN PUT HER HAND UP MY SHIRT, BUT I CAN'T HAVE MINE UP HERS?! [Illegible handwriting/Random scribbles] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- November 5th 12:33 pm Well, I've tried apologizing 3 times now. She just refuses to talk to me Maybe she's write. Maybe we're too young to f*ck. Whatever, f*ck her. |
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