Mimic Whisper

Submitted by: http://www.dimensionbucket.com/

Length: Long

I heard him tapping on the closet door on that first night. The first, before many nights. The chills I felt, to hear his sickly sweet voice, drifting in under the crack of the door, they were incomparable.

“Hungry… I’m so… Hungry…”

That’s when I knew I had to do it. George’s house. Three AM. Backdoor. Handsaw. Tonight. But it never was. I was far too scared to leave the bed. The voice. His voice. It wasn’t enough to coax me. Not at first. Things continued that way for five nights. I would lay down in my bed – the curtains drawn, the day’s work done – and later into the restless night, I would hear his voice.

“Hungry Johnathan… Oh so hungry…”

On the sixth night, I’d had enough. Being scared is never an excuse. I nodded to the ceiling as I lay on my back. He had never changed since the far off days when I was a child. In fact, I swear that he was only more real. More terrible.

“Johnathan… Do you have what you need?”

Yes, I thought to myself. A second later, I saw the handsaw from the shed slide out from under the closet door.

“I think you’ve forgotten something…”

I remember it, almost as clearly as a recording. I slid out of bed, putting on my work boots. I picked up the handsaw by the closet and moved to the kitchen. All the while, I heard his voice coming from my room.

“He’s almost asleep right now. Make quick work of this…”

I grabbed some trash bags from the kitchen, along with soap and a sponge. I made note, that the blade of the saw was much more sharp than I remembered. He had sharpened it for me with his teeth. Perfect, I applauded, setting everything into a neat duffel bag. George’s wife was away. Maybe that was why he was so insistent the past few days. This wouldn’t have been nearly as easy if she was around. It would be just me and him. The man in the closet would take care of the rest.

“Do you remember why we’re doing this?”


“He deserves it. That’s why.”

George. The bastard deserved it all right. He deserved it before birth. Men like George deserve to die. After I filled the duffel bag, it was a decent walk over to his house. I left through the back door, in an effort not to be seen. The moon was hidden that night, rendering my vision nothing more than a canvas of pitch-black ink. 

My steps grew less hesitant as my eyes adjusted. I could just make out the trees of the surrounding forest, and the neighboring houses only yards away. Each pace, brought a tingling sensation to my extremities. I was going to do it. Tonight. I held my watch to my face so I could just make out the time. 2:52. Perfect.

George’s house stuck out among the others. At least, to me it did. There was a sense of familiarity and happiness at seeing it as close as it was. Unlike the others, his house had a unique (all be it, small) attic level, which made the house taller than the rest. It was George’s house, no question about it. Making extra sure of the volume of my steps, I climbed the small set of cobblestone stairs leading to the back door. Just as I had expected, it was open.

“Good… Good…”

I hadn’t expected to hear the voice again. It came from a few yards behind me in the thicket. It was reassuring, proving to me that I was ready to begin. I opened the back door, which hardly creaked a bit. The darkness held it’s distance, on the account of the orange glow radiating from the washroom light. It was exactly the same as it always was. I unzipped the bag, and clenched the hand saw. I made my way past another door and into the living room. From there, it was a nerve-racking crawl up the stairs. His voice assured me the whole time–

“He can’t hear you…”

I made out George’s door from the landing. Strange how nothing really changes over time. His door was already open, whether he intended it or not. His snoring guided my path from the hall to beside his bed. I remember I was still on all fours. The saw was dripping with sweat.

I heard him shift in the bed.

No… I thought. My muscles prepared to run amok. He wasn’t asleep just yet. I had to wait. All I could think of was the watch. I pressed it’s face to mine. 2:57. It always amazes me how things can move so slow. It’s easy to imagine what transpired after that. It was three solid minutes of laying down, listening to him breath in… Then out. In… Then out… There was no turning back. I was going to do this. Tonight. Now.

Making only last confirmation with my watch, I bolted to my feet. I lunged forward, taking George by his neck. I heard him gasp once. Once only. I brought the saw to his throat, ripping out whatever anatomy that was in the way. I had trouble seeing in the darkness, but I could fell his surprise. I made sure he was dead. I felt it. I felt the evil that was George leave the room. He was gone. He wouldn’t be there to be who he once was.

I left the door open, making my way back out the same way I came. I threw the saw back in my bag. I’d forgotten all about the trash bags and cleaning supplies. I didn’t realize that they weren’t needed. My only necessity, was making sure the back door was shut. I didn’t hear the voice for the rest of my night

The next day I visited George again. It was the happiest I’d ever seen the man. “You want tea?”

“Tea is nice. I have a bit of a sore throat,” he nodded.

“Hmm. Milk and sugar?”

“That won’t be needed.”


“Did you sleep well last night?”

“Ah, yes Dad. I certainly did.”

It was strange seeing him act that way at first. I guessed I would grow accustomed to it as the days went on. It was nice knowing that my father was no longer partial to corroding my life, or any one else’s. I brought the kettle over to the table, filling both of our cups. I saw him smile from the corner of my eye. That beautiful, sickly voice I grew to love.

“Just one thing, John… Don’t call me Dad.”

“Sure thing.”

Credits to: http://www.dimensionbucket.com/

For an explanation by the author, head to: http://www.dimensionbucket.com/p/i-dont-usually-find-much-point-in.html

anonymous asked:

its specific, but when i talk abt having trouble sleeping, most ppl tell me to leave the room and do something else. To a spoonie who has trouble standing from the bed on good days, do u have advice for when i cant sleep but also cant leave bed?

Yeah, I have never used getting up and doing something else as a way to get to sleep and I don’t know any insomniacs that works for.

Things I do to help me sleep:

- Kalms or sleepy time tea. Just experiment with herbal stuff. It works for some people (like me) if your major problem is getting to sleep (not waking up through the night), so it’s worth a shot.

- Screens. Screens before bed aren’t good because the blue light simulates sunlight and tells your brain to stay awake. There’s a program called f.lux for computers which tones down the blue light at sunset. Apparently there’s also a version for iPhone, though I’m not sure about Android and Windows Phones don’t have one.

- Reading. The key is to distract your brain until you’re ready to drop off. Just lying in bed and reading is a good way to do that. Again, if you’re reading eBooks, make sure the screen isn’t giving off blue light (if, like me, you read on your phone, many ebook reading programs have nighttime settings).

- Listening to podcasts/watching tv. The key with this is to, again, make sure that if you’re watching something, it’s on a screen without blue light, and to make sure that it’s something you’re not bothered about listening to/watching until the end. Don’t watch/listen to anything narrative that you haven’t seen before, or anything informational on a topic that’s super important to you.

I have used Star Trek, the Cracked podcast, the Off-Topic podcast, and the Hamilton soundtrack for this. I’m always asleep by the end of the episode/album/when Netflix asks if I’m still watching.

A side note for this is to make sure whatever you’re watching will shut off after a couple of hours. You don’t want a volume fluctuation to wake you up in the middle of the night, and you want to be able to hear your alarm in the morning if you have one.

Okay, that about wraps up the things that have worked for me. Followers, do you have anything?

anonymous asked:

Who do you think is the father of Kit Snicket's baby: Dewey Denouement or Count Olaf?

The matter is deliberately left ambiguous by the author, and that’s just as it should be: Kit and Dewey and Olaf are all dead now, so Lemony has no way to prove Beatrice’s paternity with any degree of certainty.

All we know is that Kit had made some manner of arrangements for Beatrice’s birth and seemed confident that Beatrice would be raised in a stable home:

I’ve scarcely looked at these maps, poems, and blueprints that Charles sent me, or chosen wallpaper for the baby’s room. […] “I know I don’t have to tell you how terrible it feels to lose a family member. I felt so terrible that I vowed I would never leave my bed.”
“What happened?” Klaus said.
Kit smiled. “I got hungry,” she said, “and when I opened the refrigerator, I found another message waiting for me.”

[Kit Snicket & Klaus Baudelaire - The Penultimate Peril, Chapter Two]

There’s also these passages which seem to confirm Dewey and Kit were romantically involved:

For another terrible moment, it felt like the boat was going to sink into the water, just as Dewey Denouement had sunk into the pond, guarding his underwater catalog and all its secrets, and leaving the woman he loved pregnant and distraught.
[Lemony Snicket - The Penultimate Peril, Chapter Thirteen]

“I knew you ran into danger there,” Kit said. “We were watching the skies. We saw the smoke and we knew you were signaling us that it wasn’t safe to join you. Thank you, Baudelaires. I knew you wouldn’t fail us. Tell me, is Dewey with you?”
[Kit Snicket - The End, Chapter Eight]

Note that this passage betrays her attachment to Dewey since she momentarily forgets that she purposefully hid Dewey’s existence from the Baudelaires in “The Penultimate Peril”. One of the first questions she asks the Baudelaires as she emerges from the wreck is Dewey’s location. Dewey clearly is of prime importance to her. So I would agree with the interpretation that they were in a relationship and that Dewey was supposed to act as Beatrice’s father.

Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean Dewey is her father in the biological sense. We know that books 1 to 13 of “A series of Unfortunate Events” happen over less than a year because the Baudelaires celebrate their birthdays. So it’s entirely possible that Beatrice was conceived BEFORE the Baudelaire fire, at a time when the hostility between both sides of VFD wasn’t really as bad as it used to be, or when Olaf had shown (deceitful) signs of wanting to change his ways. Kit could have been seduced or succombed to her passion until the news of her friends’ murder got out.

Another disturbing possibility to consider is that Kit was raped. Given Olaf’s history of intended pedophily and marital rape, it’s definitely not out of the equation.

All in all Kit’s and Olaf’s past affair seems to come out of the blue in “The End”, but it’s probably intentional: it’s supposed to remind the Baudelaires that the world is a complicated place and that it may still surprise them. People are neither noble nor wicked, they’re just chef’s salads. That said, the fact that the Baudelaires end up as guardians of Olaf’s potential bastard may be the ultimate irony.

What’s interesting is that Violet, just like Kit’s child, was supposed to be born on the Island until Beatrice was banished… And there’s also some suspicion that she may be Lemony’s biological daughter. But in that case too, Lemony seems to value nurture over nature. He doesn’t give much thought about whose ADN Violet or Beatrice Jr descended from. Dewey and Bertrand were the fathers these women chose for their child, and that’s the only relevant part.

“my best friend is my major reason for staying alive. she’s everything to me. she makes me happy when i don’t think i’ll ever smile again. she’s amazing. i love her to death and i wouldn’t ever want her to be alone, so i could never leave. she makes me want to get out of bed every morning, push through the day and not give up.”


real life horror story.

((so as some of you are aware i am currently staying with my older brother  while looking for work, and i have been for about 4 weeks now..

I just found out he has parental control on his internet, and he knows exactly what I have been doing. apparently he also tried putting a lock on my internet access but failed.

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

I found out because he called up the stairs today and told me but he started out by saying “I know you have watched porn”
I am doing the only adult thing a little sister can do to her brother and blatantly ignoring him. ))