the tall wall of smoke

small liberal arts college horror/gothic
  • you have never seen the dean of your school. you get the letters, signed only ‘dean’, you heard a voice through her office door once, but no one has ever seen her. one night, when the moon was a waxing crescent, you thought you saw a shadow through the window of the office. it did not look human.
  • the frat bros who hang around the school gate are there every night, even when there’s class the next day. everyone sees them, but no one knows their names or whether they even go to this school.
  • the tall girl sitting on the wall blows nicotine-filled smoke into your face. you say “could you keep that to yourself please?” once you blink the smoke from your watering eyes, she has vanished.
  • the letters pile up in the unused box in the mailroom. more and more come each day. they are encroaching on the box for room 102. how that boy’s mother must miss him. 
  • the only people who go to the hiking trails behind the school are the track team and those weird guys from your biology lecture. you ask one of them if it’s nice back there and his eyes glaze over. “nice where?” he asks you in a monotone voice. you say “never mind”
  • you do not see the food delivery car pull up next to your apartment. you hear a car engine, and suddenly your doorbell rings. you wait 20 minutes to answer it, and by then your food is sitting on the doorstep in the rain. there is no one there. good.
  • there are hundreds of posters on that bulletin board. ones from events that have already happened. from events that never happened. but none for future events. 
  • as you get farther from the center of campus, the dorms get stranger and stranger. from the third floor of one building, a softly pulsing green light catches your eye. you don’t look back. from another, you hear a low hum and a beat. you hope it’s someone playing music. 
  • you walk into your professor’s office. there are piles of books everywhere, some reaching all the way to the ceiling. many are in languages you don’t know, languages you don’t think are real. from the other end of the room, you hear a low voice hiss “you wanted to see me?”

anonymous asked:

peter and wendy 19!

Decided to take a turn with this and set it approximately during the blitz? but it also does not even work so just ignore that. Sorry this took so long, it’s been a loong week.

“Come home with me.” (x)

Wendy was in the last place the little girl inside her would ever think she’d end up.

The streets were dark – only the faint glow of the street lamps let her know she was still conscience, still alive – she shivered and hugged her arms around her ratty, worn overcoat and felt the dampness of the slick black pavement seep into her shoes. It was lonely being homeless – lonelier knowing her home was gone along with her mother and father, her brothers. She had tried humming to herself for the first few days, for no other reason than to hear a familiar voice.

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