Dimensional Door - Freeople Thread 23

"Like Dance around a 9 foot tall snowman in shorts and a short sleeve shirt mid winter.."

How about riding a horse facing the wrong way?

So far I have yet to be tied to a horse facing the wrong way and sent out of town.
;-)

She stole my heart forevermore
But that's okay, I still have FOUR.
Sitting in jars by my bed
Right next to the shrunken head.
Sitting on the clock where it should be
Staring at me for eternity...

darks, did you write that?

It's very dark.
Where do you come up with these thoughts?

You really should be a writer.

belated good night, westy.

Hope you have a better day tomorrow!

Tomorrow the sun will shine

: )

.

I got as far as this:

She stole my heart forevermore
But that's okay, I still have FOUR.
Sitting in jars by my bed

And froze up.
Sis came in and wrote the rest of it in mocking referencee to the Metropolitian museum of Art trip I chaparoned.
You see, my group and I accidentally ended up wandering a storage area, and one of my group found a shrunken head in a small cotton lined box.

Sis writes poetry more often than I do.
I write macabre gothic stuff when the mood suits.

This post is getting over long, so I'll make the next post an example of The Book of Foreshadowed Sorrows.

yep, that's a real hum dinger, ain't it?

Glad you think it's so funny, sl.

I feel like Rodney Dangerfield...I get no respect around here.

Why is that? : )

I'll be waiting. Darks, I know I've told you this before, a long time ago...but you really should be a writer. You're very creative.

The Book of Foreshadowed Sorrows.
Tales I and II.

The endless walk, or unforeseen consequences

It was rainy, drizzly, dismal and depressing.
Not at all a day to be out, but out he had to be as errands had called his attention elsewhere.
There was nothing out of the ordinary, and this was fine by him.
He held his umbrella upward, a banner to the sky of his open defiance of the weather, an open marker of his presence.
His boots crunched the gravel in a slow purposeful beat, an almost catlike padding as he meandered the relatively short distance to the local Post Office.
He had things to do, places to be, people to see.
It wouldn't do to be late, he unconsciously stepped up his pace slightly, stretching his stride.
Strangely, he thought of his friends, those who'd died, those he no longer saw.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, he stepped off the roadway into the lawn of the Post Office.
He looked around, as he always did out of habit from long before, and not seeing anything threatening he continued on.
He missed the nondescript man standing next to the old schoolhouse nextdoor, anyone would have.
The watcher was dressed like any of the other men who'd recently been renovating the building.
But this one did something unusual, he held up his hand briefly and spoke one word into the microphone.

"Contact."

Things out of sight started happening, vehicles were moving, people checking equipment.
All converging on the same spot, all heading towards one insignificant moment in time.
The man checked his box, no mail worth doing a jig over, and turned to exit the Post Office.
His instincts began to nag him, and he ignored them.
He began sorting his mail as he stepped outside, his umbrella slowly opening as if resisting his will.

Then he spotted yet another threatening letter, just like the others he'd gotten over the past few weeks.
Again, his instincts kicked in, warning him of danger, telling him to run - to flee.
Annoyed, he again suppressed the thought, but with a growing sense of fear he looked over the envelope.
He'd been warned of someone 'looking' for him, but he'd written it off.
His ears perked up at the sound of a large vehicle moving into the parking lot.
Probably another customer.
Still, he stepped up the pace slightly.

His ears told him that the vehicle was strangely paralleling the sidewalk he was standing on.
To his left, doors opened, and he looked up too late.
His instincts had been right, despite his repeated self assurances that it was nothing.
Fight or flight kicked in, but far too late to help him as he was mobbed, grabbed, and dragged towards the van.
He inflicted some pain on his attackers, but their response was mere annoyance before he felt something jab him in the back.

A blow to the back of his head added to the disorientation he felt as the injection took effect and blackness rolled over his world.
To his friends and family's point of view, he'd merely stepped outside and ceased to exist.
Yet another statistic, another missing person.

It could have been hours, or it could have been days when he finally came to.
His arms were stiff, his hands numb, senses telling him he was bound to a chair in a nearly empty room.
Light filtered in dimly from somewhere, he couldn't tell where, and the blindfold fit fairly loosely.
Not that it mattered, he was effectively blind without his glasses anyway.
A door opened, and footsteps came in.
Someone else closed the door.
Silence.

He knew he'd been abducted, but to what end he didn't know.
And one of his captors had just walked into the room, but as yet they hadn't spoken.
Didn't matter to him at the moment, resignation to his fate had set in already.
He'd spent the time awake attempting to get his hands free.
His captors probably knew this considering he knew at least one person was in the room and yet he couldn't hear them.

Someone's fingers grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.
He said nothing, and this seemed to anger his assailant slightly judging from the cuffing they gave his head.
Thinking back on the threatening letters he'd gotten, he guessed that they were the reason he was sitting here.
Not that it made any sense to him at all.

The letters had made mention of something he'd said to someone somewhere, it was all very vague.
But they'd rambled on about how hurt the sender had been from something he'd said.
And they'd made mention of 'payback' of one kind or another, all of them quite colorful in their descriptions.
He made a guess and jabbed a question out there.

"I take it that you've been sending me those letters?" a hiss was the response he got.
"So what is the final purpose of this? Ransom? Blackmail? No ransom? What?" he sensed the person move around in front of him.
"Well.. I see this conversation is going no-"
"Don't you ever shut up?" a feminine voice cut him off.

For some reason, this angered him.
His captor was a woman.
But it was suddenly clear, the vindictiveness, the sheer revenge, the pure payback tone of the letters came into clear focus.

"So you can speak. Good," he didn't respond to her statement, "Do you have any point to me being here?"
'Here' seemed to be a barn or a warehouse, he couldn't quite tell as the floor was concrete and the room felt large.
A cold reply was his answer, and the answer lanced through his ribs.
Coughing, he knew why he was there.
She was going to kill him.
All over a disagreement in a chatroom.
The cruel senselessness of it played in his mind as more blows rained down, bringing a red fog to his mind and vision.
He was finally thankful once painless forever sleep came for him, and death gave her final embrace to him as she took him to her cold bosom and his quickly dying body slipped from his chair to hit the floor face first.

He wondered if he'd ever be found and have an open casket funeral....

But The Book of Foreshadowed Sorrows doesn't linger on such things.
It paused, blinked, backed up and sighed before moving onto others' tales.
And move to other things it did.

Take a ride, or the path not taken.

This day started out like any other day, and why shouldn't it?
The sun was shining, the grass was still green, an atypical December day.
But it felt different for some unfathomable reason.

The thought nagged at the back of her mind, irritated her.
She pushed it from her mind, she had places to go, people to speak to, things to do.
She set about her usual daily routine, as she always did.
Breakfast was uneventful, as was getting the mail from the mailbox at the end of the driveway.
The feeling that something was wrong, that something was going to happen sat in the back of her mind like a dying ember from a stubborn fire.

She turned towards the phone..
Now why would she do that?
..her hand lingered over the handset, her mind full of strange thoughts and odd premonitions.
"Baaah!" she shoved the idea of the phone out of her mind.
She had plenty of time to make any phonecalls.
Besides, she was going to be seeing them soon anyway.
But it's the last chance you'll get to speak to them ever again.
The thought stabbed at her from the back of her mind, unbidden and intrusive like a searchlight.
Violently she shoved the thought from all consciousness.
She wasn't going to die today!
That was just a strange dream!
She was sure of it.
Sure...
Right?

She started to violently towel dry her hair in annoyance.
The different feeling got worse.
The phone came back into her view, almost mocking her with it's presence.
It's the last time you'll ever hear their voice again!
She made a shoving motion with her hand as if that would dispel both the feeling and the phone.
She rapidly got dressed, absentmindedly, and made a few last minute preparations.
While she was putting on her mascara she could have sworn she heard weeping.
She blinked away the thought with annoyance, and more than a little embarrassment.
How silly of her, or so she thought.

Done with her makeup, she grabbed her jacket and stopped where her keys were sitting.
They were next to the phone.
She picked up the handset, it felt like a dream.
THE dream.

She stood there, stuck, rooted in place and unable to speak or move.
The dream had been so real, felt real.
She shook her head and placed the handset back in it's cradle.
She had plenty of time for phonecalls.
Besides, the people she was going to see knew she was coming and she'd see them when she got there!
Wouldn't she?

Her hand seemed to linger near the phone before she grabbed her keys, as if the phone would bite her for daring to take her keys.
She told the cats goodbye, and stepped out the door, locking it.

The rumble of her car starting was reassuring, familiar and safe.
She put her car in drive, and edged it out of the driveway.
She was anxious to see her friends, to get to her destination to..
The sound behind her snapped her back to reality.
Her eyes widened in horror as the other car rammed her from behind.
Just like in the dream!
She lost control of the car as it lept over the guardrail.
The world turned upside down and the black ground rushed up to meet her.

It would have been ironic to her, laying there as her life dripped away next to the peaceful creek.
She mourned for the lost opportunity to hear her friend's voices just one last ti...

Here the Book of Foreshadowed Sorrows pauses.
Death is often foretold to it's victims in the shadowlands therein.
But not all tales held within deal with death, as there are other Sorrows Foreshadowed within..

Thanks, Just posted the first two stories from the Book of Foreshadowed Sorrows.

"everything had to have html....even back in 2001"

Does that mean the DUmmies didn't exist back then? I mean, one must have a rudimentary brain, at the very least, to use html.

lol! there were DUmmies back then, sl....believe me. : )

I see; I'll print them out so I can read them offline, Darks.

Thank you.

Glad you got a chuckle or two from this strange night

I am off to bed may you all have a good rest until daybreak!:)

Blessings!

DU is fairly 'young' website wise, but we did have trolls.

Nic, I have tale III written out, but not tale IV yet.
:(

Glad you got a chuckle or two from this strange night

Got more than a chuckle, resty. Thanks. 'Twas a fun and strange night, wasn't it, lol!

I'm heading off to bed as well.
Hopefully I helped add to the humor tonight..

yeah, trolls should be in your chapter IV...they've always been and always will be....the damn trolls! : )

you also, added to the humor, darks....as always.

I've got to get some shut eye, too; it's as late for me as you, Darks.

good night y'all! : )

nite sl!

"Hey....it's my normal bedtime."

Oh sure....I just get home from work and YOU'RE going to bed.