when we two parted in silence and tears

forever // jimin

Originally posted by jeonmp3

1.6k words. Ex-lovers au. fluff + angst.


The kids were running about, chortles and giggles tumbling out of their mouths, the parents having had enough of telling them to keep it down as to not disturb the other visitors, couples walking by holding hands and looking at each other with love sick expressions, love letters carved into the signs along the pavement you were walking on, screaming love is in the fucking air in the most obvious, face-rubbing way, and then there was you and Jimin.

Exes forced by their friends to participate in a double date and ending up paired with each other while the friends ran off to fuck knows where.

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When We Two Parted
by Lord Byron(1788-1824)
Read by Dan Stevens

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this!

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow;
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me -
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met:
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? -
With silence and tears.

WHEN we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow—
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me—
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met—
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
—  Lord Byron, “when we two parted”

Cuts and Bruises

This is more of a friend fiction then a fan fiction because it’s focused on Richie’s friendship with Bev and Stan because I live for that. So here’s a modern high school AU. (Plus this is the first time I’ve posted my writing on here so AAAHHHH!)

Oh and warning, this is very angsty. Like barley any fluff, just tears.

Richie was highly accident proned and all the Losers knew it. So it was never that surprising when he had a bruise on his elbow from slamming it on the desk, or a bump on his forehead from running into the door, or even a scraped knee after tripping down in the barrens. The bruises made sense, it was the cuts that confused them.

He always ended up turning pages too fast and getting paper cuts, the other didn’t let him help cook because he would chop things to fast and cut his fingers, he’s even managed to snag his arms on old fences, triggering a freak out from Eddie.

“Oh god Richie please tell me you’re up to date on you tetanus shots!”

“What the fuck is a tetanus shot?” But apparently not every scar is accidental.

Richie ran up the stairs and into the bathroom to see the damage. His father was gone and his mom had come home drunk and mad, which she then took out on Richie. She started screaming at him over something as small as a cup on the counter. He was completely out of it a tired from all the test they had in school that day so he was barely able to acknowledge her, which she also didn’t like.

“DON’T YOU DARE IGNORE ME RICHARD! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

“Yes ma'am.” He mumbled.

“AND NEXT TIME I ASK YOU SOMETHING YOU’RE GOING TO RESPOND!” He now payed more attention when he noticed in her drunken rage she had picked up a knife and was swinging it blindly. He nodded quickly and stood up from the table, that was a bad idea.

“Are you trying to walk away from me?” She asked, her voice suddenly very calm and very frightening. He shook his head very quickly but still backed away. “No. I think you are. You’re trying to leave.” He said to him. “I-I-I swear mom I’m not.” You’re stuttering who are you Bill? He thought to himself. She took a step towards him but the door opened before she could say anything else. She whipped around quickly, ready to argue with Richie’s dad for coming home late and swung her arm as she went.

No one had even noticed that the knife had come up and cut Richie’s cheek as she went, no one except him as he brought his hands to his face when he felt the blood run down. He ran past his mom and dad without them noticing and now here he was.

All he could do was try to stop the bleeding with a towel. Sure Eddie had gotten him, and all the Losers, a customizable first aid kit for Christmas but he had no idea how to use it. Whenever he got hurt he would just rinse it and slap on a bandaid, but you can’t put a bandaid on a gash in your cheek. He went to sleep that night dreading the next day.

Richie woke up the next morning feeling normal until he looked in the mirror. The cut stopped bleeding but was still very visible. He sighed as he ran his hand over it. Honestly he couldn’t give two shits about having a scar it was having to explain it that scared him. His friends would all wonder and worry if he didn’t tell them. Anything having to do with his parents was hard for Richie. He didn’t like talking about it but he could never keep it in for long. Sometimes he just needed to rant. He just need to sit there and let all the hurt, anger, and tears out… and for that he went to Beverly.

Don’t get it wrong he loves all his friends, he just loves how Bev just listens. She doesn’t ask questions or look at him with pity, she just listens. It’s their thing, they listen to each other. But if he could come up with an excuse, no one would have to listen.

It should have been easy to avoid everyone until he thought of what to say. They all meet up in the cafeteria for breakfast before class starts then part ways after then bell rings. Richie decided to skip that and head straight for his locker then first period, which he only had with Bill. He sped to his locker but stopped when he remembered, his locker was right next to Bev’s, and she was already there. He mentally face palmed himself for forgetting that. So when he got there he opened it as quickly as he could and began putting in his stuff.

“Morning Richie.” Bev said closing her locker. “Morning.” He replied so quickly the word barely got out. She raised an eyebrow at him and leaned against the wall. “You ok?” She asked. He nodded but of course, she didn’t believe it. So she closed his locker causing him to jump in surprise. “Jesus Christ Richie what happened to your face?” She asked when she saw his cheek. “Nothing.” He told her. “Did someone do this to you? Who’s ass do I have to kick?” Richie laughed even though he knew full and well that if Bev wanted an ass to kick, she’d get one. “It’s nothing Bev just leave it.” He told her. “Doesn’t look like nothing. Looks really bad actually. But I can fix it.” She opened her locker again and took out the first aid kit Eddie got for her. “You keep that in there?” Richie asked feeling truly confused. “No use for it at home since I already have one there but I knew I’d need it here some day.” She then took Richie’s arm and led him down the hall.

“And done!” Bev softly patted the bandage on Richie’s cheek. “How do you even know how to do this?” He asked her. “Eddie showed me.” She told him. “Well, thanks.” He said quietly. Bev pulled her legs up on the little stone wall they were sitting on behind the gym and pulled out a cigarette. She offered one to Richie but he shook his head. “Wow something must be really wrong.” She said. “I just want to know what happened Richie. It looked really bad and if someone hurt you we really need to know.” She stopped when she was his face. His eyes were red and full of tears. “I really don’t want to talk about it Bev.” He said softly. “Ok.” She said. “Whenever you do, I’m here though.” He nodded and smiled, though it seemed forced.

Bev blew off first period with Richie and the two of them sat there in silence. They parted ways as Bev went to math with Stan and Ben and Richie to science with Mike, Eddie, and Bill. When he walked in the boys were already at the table.

“Morning Richie. We missed you at breakfast.” Mike said as he sat down. “And fa-fa-first period.” Bill added. “Oh I’m sorry we’re you saddened by my absence? Did you miss me that much?” He said putting his hand to his chest. “You wish.” Eddie added in. “Ah you know you love me Eds.” Richie said sitting down. Eddie didn’t even ask Richie to not call him Eds, what he did ask Richie wasn’t prepared for. “What happened to you cheek?”

Richie felt his body tense up as he dropped eye contact with Eddie. “Tripped.” He said. “Hit it on a rock down in the Barrens.” The three boys exchanged looks. “Ok that’s a lie.” Mike said as he rested his head on his hand. “What? Why would I lie?” Richie asked. “That’s what we-we-we’re wondering.” Bill said. Richie used the teacher coming in as an excuse to not talk to them for the rest of class, he was actually relieved that they were just taking notes.

Richie left the classroom as soon as the bell rang and headed for third period which he didn’t share with any of his friends, and today that was a good thing. Fourth period he had with Bev so there was also nothing to worry about then, it was lunch he dreaded. It was one of the few times a school day where all the Losers were together. And they would all ask.

The two of them stopped outside the cafeteria before entering. “Are you going to tell them?” Bev asked. “Nope.” Richie said tucking his hands into his pockets. “Are you going to tell me?” She asked looking at him. “When I tell them.” She said looking back. “But you’re never going to tell them.” She pointed out. “Righto.” And with that he walked in as she rolled her eyes and followed.

“Afternoon fuckers.” Richie said as he sat down. “Real classy Trashmouth. What happened to your cheek?” Richie froze up a bit before fully sitting down. “Just tripped down in the Barrens.” He used the same lie he used in first period. “We already told you Rich we don’t believe that.” Mike said. “No it’s true.” Bev cut in. Everyone looked at her. “I was there when it happened. Laughed my ass off till I saw how much he was bleeding.” A small smile played on her lips and she laughed a bit. “Oh, well than. Sorry for not believing you Rich.” Mike said. “Eh. Not like I have a very good track record.” He said. “That’s true.” Eddie mumbled. Richie looked at him. “I have a great record with you my love.” “How so?” Eddie asked. “I have a record of making you blush.” He smirked. Eddie kept his eyes locked with Richie’s as he brought up his middle finger in his line of sight and smiled. “You love me.” Richie said. “Sadly.”

“Hey no PDA at the table please.” Ben told them. “You’re killing the mood Haystack.” Richie pouted. “Wa-what mood? There was no moo-moo-moo-mood.” Bill said. “There was a mood before we saw your face Big Bill.” “That’s cah-cah-cold Rich.”

Bev, Stan, and Richie all sat in study hall, already waiting for the day to end. Bev laid across the seats, leaning into Stan’s side with her legs in Richie’s lap. She was twirling her pen, Richie was on his phone under the table, and Stan was actually doing his work. Suddenly Stan stopped writing mid sentence and spoke without looking up from his paper.

“I know you two are lying.” Bev and Richie both looked at him. “I was down in the Barrens yesterday, you weren’t. And Bev I know you keep your first aid kit in your locker. So you couldn’t have cut your cheek on a rock and you couldn’t have fixed him up.” He told them. “Damn Stan, are you a bird watcher or a detective?” Bev asked with a smile. Stan smiled too before getting serious again. “So what really happened?” He asked. “Beats me if I know. Richie came up with the story I just backed him up.” Bev said as she sat up fully. Both of them now looked at Richie. “Rich what happened?” Richie was avoiding eye contact and pushed the pop socket on his phone up and down. “Richie.” He stopped moving and sighed. “Does it matter?” He asked. “Yes hun it does.” Bev told him. “Well who the fuck cares?” He snapped. “We do.” Stan said. “Well I wish you wouldn’t.” He said a bit louder while standing up. A girl across the room shushed them. “Oh bite me Cathy.” Richie yelled before storming out. Bev and Stan tried to call to him but he just kept walking. Bev was about to get up but Stan held his hand up. “I’ll get him.” He said, and with that he left. Bev sighed and folded her arms over the table. “Freaks.” The girl who shushed them muttered. Bev stood up from her table. “You trying fucking go?” She asked her. The girl was going to stand up but her friend pulled her back down. “Don’t do it she’ll kick your ass Cathy.” He said. The girl reluctantly sat back down and Bev took her stuff and left.

Richie had left the school completely and was now just walking. He had no idea where, he just needed to leave. Stan had followed him and was driving along side him in his car. “Richie come on.” He said. “Go back to school Stan!” Richie yelled back. “Not without you!” “Well if you waiting for me you’ll be waiting all damn day!” Richie snapped. “Richie…” “You couldn’t have just dropped it?! You guys just can’t ever leave it the fuck alone! Can’t you just not care?! For once?! I’m so done!” And with that he took off. Stan did his best to follow but since he was on the road it was difficult. Stan eventually stopped his car in a parking lot and went after Richie on foot.

Richie kept going. He ran until his sides hurt and he could barely breath. He looked around the woods he ended up in and made sure he was alone before breaking down into tears. He leaned against a tree and slumped to the ground still sobbing. He fumbled with his jacket pocket before taking out a cigarette and lighter it with a shaky hand. He took long drags of it till it was gone fairly quickly. He took out another but drew this one out. He slowly stood up and looked around to find out where he was. It was a spot in the woods kids use to come to to hang out. Until two years ago when the Losers were freshman some senior left school one day and killed him self by jumping off the cliff that was here. Richie walked over a looked down the edge. Some college kids went swimming in the water at the bottom and found his body. The drop was over 100 feet, he had no chance of surviving. The kid hadn’t left a note or talked to anyone that day. He just walked out of class and jumped. No one had the slightest idea why. Richie wondered… if he could do the same.

No note, no conversation. Just some random, drunk, college kids finding him. Everything would stop. No more hurting. Would his friends even miss him? Wasn’t he just comic relief. Wasn’t Eddie only dating him because he was there? The only other guy, that they knew of, that also liked boys. No one was around. No one to stop him. It would be so easy. He took a step forward.

“Richie!”

He stopped moving. Stan’s eyes widened at the sight. His friend was standing at the edge of a cliff, clearly ready to jump. “Richie please. Back away from the ledge please.” Stan’s voice was cracking, like he was also on the verge of tears. Richie stayed staring down at the water, he didn’t move as Stan’s footsteps approached him. Stan took Richie’s hand and pulled him back a bit, placing his arm in front of him just in case. Richie broke down in tears once more.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Richie sobbed. “Don’t apologize Rich. It’s ok, you’re ok.” Stan said hugging his friend. Richie cried into Stan’s shoulder for what felt like hours. He spilled everything without even being asked to. He told Stan what happened, having to be told to stop and breath.

After he had calmed down Stan led Richie back to his car. They got in and started driving, past the school. “Where are we going?” Richie asked. “My house. I texted Bev and told her to meet us there after school and bring our stuff.” He told him. “Wow Stanley Uris skipping school. Never thought I’d see the day.” Richie let out a laugh that was definitely forced. Stan put his hand on his shoulder and smiled, Richie smiled back.

Stan made the two of them tea and they sat down at the kitchen table in silence. It wasn’t awkward but it wasn’t comfortable either. They sat there for at least an hour before the door bell rang causing Richie to jump a bit. “It’s ok.” Stan reassured him. “It’s just Beverly.” Stan didn’t even open the door fully before Bev ran in. She set all the bags on the table and hugged Richie. “Oh Richie I’m so glad you’re ok. I got worried when Stan said you two weren’t coming back to school. What happened?”

After Bev was filled in they sat in silence once again. Bev was holding both of Richie’s hands. Then Stan said something neither of them were expecting.

“Richie I’m so sorry. We should have respected that you didn’t want to talk at the time. That you would have came to us when you were ready. And I’m so sorry, it should have never went that far. And just know… you’re not alone.” They both stared at him. “What do you mean Stan?” Bev asked.

“Sophomore year, when I was late to homecoming, I stood on that edge.” Richie and Bev’s eyes grew wide at that sentence. “I’ve had those thoughts plenty of times Rich. Hell, I still have them. But all of you keep me going. You two, Bill, Ben, Mike, Eddie. I used to think I was selfish and stupid for thinking that you guys would miss me but I see now, it’s never selfish or stupid to think you matter. To think people love and care about you. When Bill called me and asked where I was that day he saved my life and he doesn’t even know it. I haven’t kicked the bucket because of you guys. Because I would miss you and I know you’d miss me. And I’m so grateful for that. I would never take it for granted. I’ve never told anybody this, yet I’m saying it now in hopes it’ll help. Please Richie remember, you’re our best friend. And we love you.” Richie was crying again, and now Bev joined in. The three of them shared a hug filled with tears and I love yous. The hug ended when Bev’s phone rang, she got up to answer it. It was Ben.

“Hey where’s Richie? We have to make sure he doesn’t show up to early.” He said. Bev looked over to make sure they boys weren’t listening and lowered her voice. “Don’t worry Ben he’s here with me and Stan. We just… blew off the last periods.” She told him. “Stan blew of school? Are you listening to yourself?” Ben asked. “Just tell us what time to be there.” She rolled her eyes and smiled even though he couldn’t see. Ben sounded like he was talking to someone then spoke again. “One hour.” He told her. “Got it.” She said then hung up. She looked at Stan as he looked at her. She mouthed one hour to him and he gave her the thumbs up. She hoped that this would cheer Richie up.

The three of them headed down to Bill’s house together. They walked into the house only to see it was dark. All the sudden the lights came on everyone yelled surprise to Richie. “What the hell!” He yelled. “Happy birthday Rich.” Bev said. Richie furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before realizing. “Oh yeah.” He said slowly. “You forgot again?” Mike asked. Richie simply nodded as his cheeks flushed red. “Remembered or not it’s your day.” Eddie said giving him a kiss. He then took his hand and led him to the backyard.

They had ordered pizza and had a water balloon fight, finally Bill came out with the cake. As they were singing happy birthday Richie couldn’t help but smile as tears filled his eyes. He blew out the candles and was still smiling at them. “Thank you guys so much. You’re the greatest friends anyone could ask for. I love you.” They were all in another group hug before they gave him their presents. After everything they all spent the night in the living room.

Richie still claims it was the best day of his life. The day he was saved.

2

tbt Dan Stevens / Josephine Hart - Poetry Hour
Josephine Hart, Baroness Saatchi (1 March 1942 – 2 June 2011[1]) explained that “poetry, this trinity of sound, sense and sensibility” that “gives voice to experience in a way that no other literary art form can.”

Edinburgh International Book Festival 2007 – Dan Stevens reads Lord Byron

She Walks In Beauty 
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes: 

Stanzas Written On The Road Between Florence And Pisa 
There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee;
Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee;
When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story,
I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.

and my favorite:

When We Two Parted
In secret we met:
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? -
With silence and tears. 

You Can Always Lean On Me

Request: Could you possibly do an imagine about the reader comforting Daryl whilst he is crying after he had to kill the walker Merle?


As soon as the walker caught sight of you, you knew exactly who it was. He was the same man who hit on you time and time again before Rick cuffed him to the roof. He was the same man that you had grown to know and care for-to a certain extent.

The Dixon boys were a package deal, so you had to learn to take the good with the not-so-good. Merle had taken you in and treated you like a younger sister, but it was only when Daryl made it clear that you weren’t leaving the group.

Merle had his downfalls, but he shouldn’t have been fated to become one of the walkers.

The familiar face was covered in blood. The lips that constantly teased you and Daryl about being too close were covered in flesh and blood from the dead man on the ground. Merle stood up and began limping toward you.

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Favorite creepypasta #65: Skinwalker

External image

My father told me a story once. I’ll never forget it, for a few reasons. I think it’s the first story he ever told me, as a child. Its also the story of how my grandfather died. But honestly, that isn’t the reason.

You hear stories, on TV, or sometimes you over hear something in a public place. People talk about ghosts and aliens, and you think to yourself “that ain’t real. They’re making it up, or they’re mistaken, or they’re crazy.” or something like that. You just can’t believe it.

Until something happens. Something that brings it all together, connects the dots in a way you didn’t think of before. Maybe it happens to you, maybe you hear the same story again and again, happening to different people. It doesn’t take long for the world to become a lot bigger than you thought it was.

As I said, this is a story my father told me, but I never believed it, even though he swore up and down it was true. It wasn’t until I started clicking around the internet I started to believe. I started to hear other stories just like the one my father told me. It didn’t take me long to believe in The Rake.

That’s not what my father called it, of course. He’s never used the internet in his life, he wouldn’t know what the consensus has taken to naming it. When he chose to call it something other than “it” or “that thing” He called it “Skinwalker” after an old Cherokee tale his grandfather told him.

But I’ll tell you the story, the way he told it to me.

“We were out hunting one night.” he’d tell me. “Coyotes. We’d kill ‘em for fifty bucks a skin.” they lived on a dairy farm, in Ohio. “They’d kill calves sometimes. We’d do it every night, because we needed the money. Sometimes, while we were out, we’d come on a Deer, and kill it. Our landlord didn’t mind, and it could a feed our family for a few nights and save us some money.”

“Anyway, we were done making our rounds and heading home, walking, ’cause we didn’t have a car or some four-wheeler back then. We’d cut through the woods. That’s when we came up on it.”

“Blood, everywhere. Splattered on the trees, in the grass, in the creek, everywhere. At first, we figured it was a pack of Coyotes. We’d seen it sometimes, they can’t scavenge and start hunting Deer or cattle. The worst was when they breed with feral dogs. But this wasn’t like that.

See, when a pack of dogs, or wolves, or coyotes attack something, they do it right. They’ll pick off one that’s weak, or sick, or old, or just small. They’ll hunt it, draw it into a corner, some place it can’t get out off, and they’ll run it right to the biggest one, the Alpha. And that deer will never see that Alpha. It might hear it, but it won’t see it. It’ll just notice that it’s throat is gone, and then it’ll drop dead. Its quick, its clean. That wasn’t what happened here.”

“Something had run up on a den of deer. Coyotes won’t attack a den, wolves neither, because they’d get too much of a fight. There were three, I think, three bodies. Just torn apart. You’d see a head here, a leg here, a torso there. Predators don’t do that. They don’t leave behind scraps. What had done this hadn’t done it for food. It had done it for fun.”

“But we didn’t know that. We saw a bunch of carcasses and we think its something we gotta take care of. I remember my dad telling me to go home; he thought it was a pack of feral dogs.

But I wasn’t leaving him, and I damn sure wasn’t walking through two miles of woods alone, with nothing but a twenty two and a pocket knife.” he was only thirteen at the time, so a .22 rifle was about the only gun he could reliably use. “dad had the shotgun, and I wasn’t going anywhere without it.”

“It took me a while, to convince him, but finally we began tracking whatever did that. It wasn’t hard, either, we just followed the blood. Either that thing bleed a deer before it got away, or it dragged one for a mile. I don’t know. I know that I’d never seen my dad scared before that night.”

“We started hearing noises. I’ve been in a lot of woods, in my life, I’ve been all over the world, and ain’t never heard noises like I heard that night. I heard things screaming.”

“Heard deer, and fox, and rabbits and raccoons and birds, just scared. Keep in mind, this is maybe twelve, or one o’ clock. ‘cept the fox, and some birds, nothing was supposed to even be awake. But they weren’t just awake They were moving. I saw flocks of birds that night fly straight into trees just trying to get out of there. We came up on a pack of coyotes, nearly shot a couple thinking it was what we were looking for us, but then we saw they were running towards us. They ran right passed us, didn’t even notice.”

“Then some deer did the same. Then some rabbits, squirrels, foxes, even a couple wild hogs. These things were supposed to be eating each other and the only thing they cared about was getting out of there.”

“We should have put it together. That maybe whatever we were tracking, it wasn’t something we were supposed to see, and it wasn’t something we could kill. I don’t know why we didn’t just go home. I guess we were curious. I think that was my dads nature, to go toward trouble, to fight. And knowing what I knew about what my father did during the war, my nature was to stay close to him.”

“We finally get into an open valley. It was normally a soy field, but it wasn’t in season, so it was just flat dirt. We saw the tracks, then. A lot of the animals fleeing the forest had paved over the land. But where that deer blood was, nothing had taken a single step. Like they were leaving it for us to find.”

“The tracks were shallow. Whatever it was couldn’t have weighed more than one hundred pounds, but that didn’t mean much. A bobcat weighing forty pounds wet nearly tore out my damn throat, once. All that means is that its quick and hard to hit.”

“So we follow the tracks, and it doesn’t take us long to find where it is. There’s this old school house that sits on the top of a hill. Half of it had been ripped out by a tornado, but nobody lived there, not for a long time. We caught homeless people in there, sometimes, or druggies looking for a safe place to shoot up. We figured maybe that was it. Maybe it was some sick kid riding a high. But we didn’t think that for long.”

“We get within fifty yards, and we hear this noise. A screeching kinda sound. It was sort of made up of two different sounds. One was a high pitched screech, another was a low pitched growl. It was making both, at the same time.”

“We get within twenty yards, and we hear this sound. I can remember thinking that it sounded like paper being torn apart, while someone was swinging water in a bucket, back and forth.”

“Dad looks at me, kneels down, and whispers. I gotta stay behind him, ’cause we’re about to corner him. Any animal will fight when its cornered, specially when its a predator. But we can tell by the tracks that its just one. He tells me its probably a single, feral dog, probably rabid.”

“The plan is to sneak up on it while its eating, shoot it, and then keep shooting it ’till it don’t move anymore, then slit it’s throat. And if it gets to dad, It’s my job to shoot it or stab it to get it off him. So he walks up, and I’m right behind him, just a tad to his side, so I can see what it is. I wish to this day I hadn’t.”

“It was leaning over a carcass, tears off its flesh, and throws what it doesn’t nibble at aside. There’s blood all over the brick, glistening in the moonlight. It’s pale white. Human looking, but not quite human. It had arms and legs like a human, but it sat like a monkey, hunched over. And its hands weren’t normal; it had long fingers with claws at the end.”

“So we see that, and my dad hesitates. He wasn’t about to fire on a person. So he clears his throat, to try get it to turn around.”

“I swear to god, all the noise just ceased. I ain’t ever heard true silence before that, and not after it. But for two seconds, nothing, nothing, made any noise. Which made it all the louder when it turned around, made this shrill cry, and jumped on dad.”

“He got a shot off. I think he missed. If he hit the thing, it didn’t mind. But it was on him, tears parts of him off. I start shooting it with the twenty two, point blank, but it barely bled the thing. I got off five rounds, and then I started hitting it with the gun butt. But it wasn’t budging.”

“It didn’t even register that I was there.”

“It’s clawing at my dad, taking off bits of his flesh. It starts on his torso, ripping off the skin, his tit, then it moves up. It tore off his throat, it tore off his nose, his eyes, it scalped him. Then it started digging in, ripped off the bottom half of his jaw, the little bones and that tube in your neck, then his ribs.”

“I don’t exactly remember what happened, but somehow, my dads knife ends up in this things shoulder, and my dad ends up on my back. I’m running, and by god I’m running faster than I’d ever run before or after. And its following me. I end up back in the woods, opposite the ones we been in. I’m headin’ towards my landlords house, cause it’s half a mile away.”

“I can hear this thing, screeching and moaning. I hear these tree branches crack and get thrown around. It sounds like someone’s taking an ax to every single tree I pass, its cracking so loud and often, but I just ain’t looking back.”

“Finally, I trip into gravel. I look up and there’s my landlord and bunch of his buddies, drinking around a campfire. I scream and I cry, and they come over. I’m telling them to call an ambulance, and he looks at me, and I’ll never forget what he said.”

“‘What is that on your back?’ he asked me. Just as he said it, he saw. One of those godawful flannel shirts my dad wore everywhere. It was what was left of my dad. Most of his head, his torso, but nothing after the waist.”

“Suddenly we hear it. Screeching. He grabs me, my dad gets thrown on the ground. I’m fighting him, crying, cause I think we can still save him, somehow, but my dad had been gone ‘for I ever picked him up. He has to pick me up and throw me inside before I come with him.”

“He and his buddies, we’re all inside, and their locking doors, and getting guns. The landlord’s asking me ‘what happened?’ ‘what happened?’ but I just don’t know what to tell him. He pieced enough of it all together to understand that there was something dangerous there. All the lights in the house are on, and someone calls the cops. They’ll be there, but in fifteen minutes.”

“We look outside, and see it walk in front of the fire they’d made. Don’t know what it is, one of ‘em says it looks like an Ape. Suddenly, something goes through the window. We shoot at it, but ain’t the thing. Its my Landlord’s dog. Just the body, though. Not his head or legs.”

“We start pushing things in front of doors and windows, when we hear something the garage. I remember one of his friends sayin’ that the doors were open. We hear metal and glass just get ripped apart. We put a couch and a TV in front of the door to the garage.”

“It banged around some more, but then it got quiet. Not silent, like it was before. We could hear it move around some, and the guys were talking, making sure the guns were ready. Someone hands me a pistol. No sooner did I cock the hammer back did we hear something shatter upstairs. Then we heard it screech again. ‘cept now it was louder, and it didn’t echo and fade out. Because it was inside.”

“We all rushed to the one door leading upstairs, and we got to it just as that thing did. It opened it just a bit, and four or five men just slammed into it. It got its hand through. Someone with a shotgun took care of that. Put the barrel right up to its wrist and pulled the trigger. Cut its hand off, clean.”

“That only pissed it off, though. It started pushing on that door, clawing. We were on one side, pushing as best we could, and it was on the other, doing the same. That wood just wasn’t going to hold, so someone tells us to keep our heads down. Suddenly the top half of the door is just gone, my ears are ringing, and there are splinters everywhere. Two or three of them just unloaded on the top of that door.”

“I don’t really know where it went after that. The police got there. I was still glued to that door, what was left of it. The sun was up before they got me off it. They put me in a hospital for a while. A lot of people talked to me, but I didn’t talk back, not for a long, long time.”

“When I got back home, I got a job for the landlord, working on the farm. We didn’t talk much, not about the thing. But, I signed up for the army when I was nineteen, and he sat me down to drink some scotch as a send off. I asked him, right away, what the police told him. The story they went with was a wild animal, probably a wolf, or maybe a bear that had migrated north. I asked him how they could say that when they had the hand. He looks at me, stunned.”

“He tells me that hand never made it back to the station. The cop who had it in his car wrecked, drove into a tree, died on impact. The hand was never found, probably taken away by an animal. The cops, when they would acknowledge the hand existed at all, said it was simply the paw of a bear that looked like a human hand.”

“I never talked to the Landlord again. He went missing when I was in basic. Never found him. They said he owed some people some money and just ran away, but I don’t think its that simple. I never went back to those woods. I wouldn’t even if I had the whole goddamn US Army at my back.”

But that was a lie. When my mother died, I don’t think my father felt he had anything left, and that he might as well settle old scores. He went to those woods. He never came back. FBI was called, they did a show for everyone involved, but I knew they weren’t really looking. I had to get one drunk and slip him a few fifties before he finally told me that they get a few calls about those woods every year, about someone up and vanishing. But that was all he wanted to tell me. Before he got up and left with the rest of his team, he wrote “The Rake” onto a napkin. I didn’t know what I meant until I searched for it on the internet. Honestly, I would have rather not known.

Credits to: Max Minton

3

A Horrible Lynching

From May through September 1 91 9, over 25 race riots rocked cities from Texas to Illinois, Nebraska to Georgia.

In Omaha, the trouble began on September 25, when a white woman, Agnes Loebeck, reported that she was assaulted by a black man. The next morning, the Bee reached new lows reporting the event. The headline was: “Black Beast First Stick-up Couple.”

“The most daring attack on a white woman ever perpetrated in Omaha occurred one block south of Bancroft street near Scenic Avenue in Gibson last night.”

Coverage in the World-Herald was slightly less
inflammatory:

“Pretty little Agnes Loebeck … was assaulted … by an unidentified negro at twelve O’clock last night, while she was returning to her home in company with Millard [sic] Hoffman, a cripple.”

That evening, the police took a suspect to the Loebeck home. Agnes and her boy friend Milton Hoffman (they were later married) identified a black packinghouse worker named Will Brown as the assailant. Brown was 41 y ears old and suffered from acute rheumatism.

Before the police could leave the Loebeck house, a mob gathered outside and threatened to seize Brown. After an hour’s confrontation, police reinforcements arrived and Brown was transferred to the Douglas County Courthouse. Several police officers were ordered to report at once to police headquarters in case of further trouble, and 46 policemen and a detective were kept on duty well into the night.

After the confrontation outside the Loebeck home, rumors began to fly that a mob would try to seize Brown again. On Sunday , September 28, a group of youths gathered in south Omaha and began a march to the Douglas County courthouse. Eventually , thousands of angry people gathered at the courthouse and by evening, the Omaha police and city officials inside the courthouse were virtual prisoners. The size of the crowd was estimated as between 5,000 and 1 5,000 people. By 8:00 p.m. the mob had begun firing on the courthouse with guns they looted from nearby stores. In that exchange of gunfire, one 16-year-old leader of the mob, and a 34-y ear-old businessman a block away were killed. By 8:30 the mob had set fire to the building and prevented fire fighters from extinguishing the flames. Inside, Will Brown moaned to Sheriff Mike Clark, “I am innocent, I never did it, my God I am innocent.”

May or Smith had been at the scene for several hours. He came out of the courthouse and tried to reason with the mob. He asked them to forget the prisoner and allow the firemen to put out the flames. At that point, the may or was knocked down by a blow to his head, and the next thing he knew, he was on Harney Street. One end of a rope was being flung over a lamp post. The other end tightened around his neck. That was the last thing he remembered until he woke up in a hospital where he remained for several day s in serious condition with severe head injuries. May or Smith had been rescued, but there are several versions of how the rescue happened. Some reports say police detectives were responsible for saving Smith’s life. Others give the credit to a young man named Russell Norgaard. Whatever the true story, the mob lost interest in Smith and concentrated on getting Brown out of the courthouse.

Brown ended up in the hands of the crazed mob. He was beaten into unconsciousness. His clothes were torn off by the time he reached the building’s doors. Then he was dragged to a nearby lamp pole on the south side of the courthouse at 1 8th and Harney around 11:00 p.m. The mob roared when they saw Brown, and a rope was placed around his neck. Brown was hoisted in the air, his body spinning. He was riddled with bullets. His body was then brought down, tied behind a car, and towed to the intersection of 1 7th and Dodge. There the body was burned with fuel taken from nearby red danger lamps and fire truck lanterns. Later, pieces of the rope used to lynch Brown were sold for 1 0 cents each. Finally, Brown’s charred body was dragged through the city ’s downtown streets.

The lynching of Will Brown was a horrible event that affected all parts of the city .

Nebraska-born actor Henry Fonda was 1 4 y ears old when the lynching happened. His father owned a printing plant across the street from the courthouse. He watched the riot from the second floor window of his father’s shop.

“It was the most horrendous sight I’d ever seen … We locked the plant, went downstairs, and drove home in silence. My hands were wet and there were tears in my eyes. All I could think of was that young black man dangling at the end of a rope.”

During Fonda’s long career, at least two of his best movies, Young Mister Lincoln and The
Ox Bow Incident, featured lynchings as major plot points.

When We Two Parted

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow–
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shrudder comes o'er me–
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee so well–
Long, long I shall rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met–
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?–
With silence and tears.

by George Gordon Byron

You’re in my veins. No. You’re in my heart. No. You’re in my blood. No. Yes. You’re in every part I call mine and in all parts I dare not name or know and yet love. Silence. Let me have it out: I am a weak person but I’m brave when it comes to loving you. I can’t bear the uncertainty I currently read in your eyes; I can’t bear to witness the fear inside your gaze – that terror over me possibly hurting myself or over you not being able to be with me in all the ways you used to. I can’t bare you feeling that you have to tear yourself in two halves in order to please me so that we can both pretend that everything’s precisely as it was. I’m not interested in the leftovers, darling. I’m interested in the whole thing. I’ve been loving the whole thing. So, we’re still here and it’s supposed to be enough; first impersonal morning text and what has changed howls mercilessly and I feel bad. 10-minute alone meeting before others actually join us and we’re both feeling uncomfortable and we’re both craving that others’ arrival is going to take some of the uneasiness away. And still, I look at you and all I feel for you is love. I look at you and every sense of discomfort turns into an emotional overflow and I can’t think, I can’t pretend, I can’t conceal the feeling, I can’t put the emotion away, I can’t silence my own fearful silence. I look at you and I love, I love, I love. And if that means that I should let go, I will, although in truth, I won’t. Ever. It’s just going to feel like I’m distancing. I will because perhaps, right now, this is what we mutually need. I will because what I feel for you is infinite. I will because in spite of my fear, I know, we’ll both be alright. I will, because what matters to me more than my own self-protection is the love itself. And since I know it’s love, I will because I’m not scared. I’m more scared to stay without staying; I’m more scared to put on a mask and compromise when I know, deep in my heart, that I can’t compromise. I can’t settle for anything less than what we had. I don’t want to settle for anything else. If I’m honest with myself, I really, truly need to leave and turn this absence into an honest, powerful and solid presence. And I don’t know whether I have the guts to do it but I promise that if I’ll be doing it, it won’t be an act of escapism. It’s going to be an act of bravery. And you’ll hopefully understand. You’ll hopefully come to feel that this is the way I have loved you and this is my way of continuing to love you. I’d rather go away, darling. I’d rather go away than rot inside some false half-friendship. I’d rather go away than come back home to myself each night and get to feel as empty as a shadow, as vacant and ghost-like as someone who didn’t dare do any justice to what they were feeling. I am not scared of loneliness, darling. I am scared of losing track of what’s real and what’s not. I am scared to begin doubting my own soul strength when it comes to loving you, me, and us. I don’t want that. I love you too much for that. I still love this so frightfully much. But I want to love it for what it is, not for what it isn’t, wasn’t and shall never be. And it’s not ever going to be mediocre. Ever. We wouldn’t let it. I’m sure.
Aaron imagine for Samantha

You were laying in bed at your boyfriend Brandon’s house waiting for him to get home. It was already 12:53 and you didn’t want to stay up any longer, but you knew you had to. About a month ago, you found out news about it and after giving him time to come clean about you, you finally decided you needed to confront him. Just then you heard the front door open and close as quietly as possible. ‘It’s now or never…’ you thought to yourself. Hesitantly, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and carefully made your way downstairs to the kitchen where you assumed Brandon was at. Tears brimmed your eyes as he came in sight. Slightly, Brandon lifted his head, “Hey, Samantha,” he said smiling softly at you. Reality finally caught up to you as you stood there, unable to more or talk. You didn’t trust yourself knowing that in time, the guy standing in front of you will soon be your past.
“We need to talk,” you muttered, slowly making your way to the center island and leaning your elbows against it. Silence filled the room as the two of you stood there waiting for the silence to be broken by the other. A tear slipped past as you thought about the outcome of this situation. A part of you was upset knowing what was going to happen when you left the house, but the other part was happy. You didn’t love Brandon the way you did last year. To be truthful, your heart was more for your best friend since 4th grade, Aaron. You just never really realized it until he first left for the Magcon tour.
Anger took control of your body as you swallowed the lump in your throat and fought back the tears that threatened to spill out of your eyes. “Why’d you do it?” you asked trying to stay calm. Brandon furrowed his eyebrows, not completely understanding what exactly you were talking about. Almost instantly, you took your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket and pulled up the picture one of Aaron’s fans sent you on twitter. You slid your phone across the counter to Brandon, letting him become aware with the picture. You saw guilt flash before his eyes as they became glossy and red, “Samantha…I was going to tell you, I was. I just di-” You cut him off before he even got the chance to finish his excuse. 
“No, don’t feed me that bullshit, Brandon! What? You didn’t want to tell me because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings? Is that why you kept it a secret!? You kept it away from my for weeks! How do you think I felt knowing that long?! Knowing you hooked up with my best friend, huh?! I waited for you to fucking tell me, Brandon! I gave you a thousand chances to come clean and you didn’t even fucking bother!” You saw Brandon open and then close his mouth a few times before he finally spoke.
“I’m sorry, Sam! I couldn’t lose you! I couldn’t handle the sight of you walking out that door because of a drunken mistake I made! What the hell was I supposed to do, Sam! I love you, I need you!” You stood there, your arms crossed over your chest as Brandon walked over to you, “I’m sorry, Sam. Please don’t leave me, I love you.” His hand reached for your but you stepped back just before he had the chance to grab hold of it. 
“Sorry doesn’t always work, Brandon.” You said to him, finally ending the argument and the relationship, “I just…I trusted you, I gave you everything. And this is what you do to repay me. I’m done, Brandon. I can’t stay in this relationship with you,” Pausing, you walked around to grab your phone from the opposite side where you stood, leaving your now ex-boyfriend there, broken and hurt, “Not when I love someone else.” From the corner of your eye, you saw Brandon’s head drop knowing he lost your for good. A smile spread across your face as you thought of Aaron. You were completely head over heels for the guy and it only took you a few years, a trip, and a messy relationship to realize it. Not wanting to wait any longer, you quickly grabbed your car keys, threw on a jacket of yours and shuffled to the door.
The drive to Aaron’s was painfully slow to you, but in reality it was faster than you’ve even driven. You thought about the endless scenarios that would happen when you stood at his front door. The second you were in the driveway, you hopped out of your car and raced to the door, knocking on it excitedly. Fortunately for you, Aaron answered only seconds after. Without even having the chance to greet him, you crashed your lips with his, throwing your arms around your neck as his snaked around your waist. Ghosting your lips over his, you said to him, “I love you, Aaron. I have since day one and I’m sorry it took me until now to realize it. I ended it with Brandon, I had to. I couldn’t be with him if my heart belongs with you.” A smile as bright as the night moon spread across his face as he took in your every word.
“I love you too, Samantha. More than words can describe, more than you know and you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day.” In that moment, you once again realized you were completely and utterly in love with your best friend, your world. 

When We Two Parted

WHEN we two parted 
In silence and tears, 
Half broken-hearted 
To sever for years, 
Pale grew thy cheek and cold, 
Colder thy kiss; 
Truly that hour foretold 
Sorrow to this. 

The dew of the morning 
Sunk chill on my brow— 
It felt like the warning 
Of what I feel now. 
Thy vows are all broken, 
And light is thy fame: 
I hear thy name spoken, 
And share in its shame. 

They name thee before me, 
A knell to mine ear; 
A shudder comes o'er me— 
Why wert thou so dear? 
They know not I knew thee, 
Who knew thee too well: 
Long, long shall I rue thee, 
Too deeply to tell. 

In secret we met— 
In silence I grieve, 
That thy heart could forget, 
Thy spirit deceive. 
If I should meet thee 
After long years, 
How should I greet thee? 
With silence and tears.

― George Gordon Byron

So my mom and I were out shopping and having lunch earlier and we were talking about poets that we love, and she mentioned Lord Byron and his poem “When We Two Parted” so I looked it up when I got home and….

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow–
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me–
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well–
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met–
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?–
With silence and tears.

And I just…so many season 7 deancas feels right now EVERYTHING HURTS

Reminiscence - Taeyong

I look up and look straight into his eyes. It’s the first time in months that I’ve seen him. His eyes still seem so familiar, yet so unknown. I see a girl standing next to him. His arm is hooked around her waist and it reminds me of the way he used to hold me. She has long dark hair flowing all the way down her back. She’s laughing at a joke he just made. It’s a soft and gentle laugh. I hear her speak to him. Her voice is soothing and comfortable to listen to. Everything about her is the exact opposite of me and it makes me wonder what he ever saw in me.

He looks at her and smiles. It’s hard to tell if his smile is genuine. Part of me wants to believe that it’s fake. Part of me wants to believe that he’s just trying to make me jealous. I want to believe that somewhere deep down in his heart he still wants me.

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