(Untitled)

[ghostygirl]

. . . oh no.

Oh nonononono

NO.

go away.

Comments

[sthenyaer]

... Are you his other? I...

[ghostygirl]

. . . no. I . . .

god help me i don't know why this is happening it wasn't supposed to be like this any more

The problem with ideas . . . is they never really die. You can say to yourself "this is unfeasible and unusable" and that could be the end of it, but it never really is, because it's always, always somewhere buried in the backbrain. Lodged there, like some cancerous lump. And eventually it'll get out again, whether you want it to or not.

But . . . it's signal-to-noise, you know what that is? Like the clarity of what you receive . . . it changes. Sometimes it's more clear, sometimes it's fuzzy.

Most of the time, signals decay. There isn't enough strength to maintain the transmission forever.

And . . .

oh god

I have to go.

I can hear them. Their claws . . . like nails on a chalkboard, like toxic waste . . . she's lost the signal so now she's coming after mine -

I have to go.

[sthenyaer]

... Okay. Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any trouble it'll haunt me to my dying days if I did I'm sorry I didn't mean to

good bye

[mo_intheblood]

Run, run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch the gingerbread men.

Isn't that right, Tara?

Will you wash your hands of this when it's done? Will you let this be your resting place?

[ghostygirl]

Go to hell. You unbearable bastard.

YOU DROVE ME AWAY YOU DID THIS THIS IS YOUR FAULT

[mo_intheblood]

I did this? You give me more credit than even I think I deserve.

All our sins come back to roost eventually.

[ghostygirl]

I remember the tanks, the vats. Remember the cold and the dark and the white.

I'm not going back. None of us are going back.

[wolvesinthewire]

THE FLESH FEEDS

IT TASTES SO SWEET