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Razorback Ridge [m] Sweet lighthouse - Printable Version

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[m] Sweet lighthouse - Donnie - October 03, 2023

Mature Content Warning


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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: violence, gore, death

He'd slept for hours after reaching the summit of the ridge. It had been cloudy, and his view of all the world around him had been obscured by thick fog, and even before the moonlight cut through, the land had been covered by a thick layer of frost. At such an altitude, it felt more like winter than Autumn, and the boy awakened to find himself shivering heavily. 

He curled up, and looked up toward the sky. Overhead, the clouds parted, revealing the moon which only a night or two ago had been full. In a few days, he told himself, it would be warmer again. But some homing instinct had driven him to come this way, toward the mountain range where a ridge had looked like something he'd seen before- something he remembered from his childhood. 

And as he looked down into the valley below, he finally saw it- his birthplace. He felt sure of it; the air smelled familiar, and the forest nestled in the valley amid the mountain peaks was unmistakeable. It had taken him months to find it, but he knew what home was once he'd seen it. 

Frail and trembling, he began to make his way down through the ridge, wondering if his family would recognize him when they saw him.


RE: Sweet lighthouse - The Harvester - October 03, 2023

creature in the slimy depths of inferno and purgatory. he clawed his way to the peak of mind's insanity, nails bloodied and broken. but it was here he drank in the vigor of unsuspecting prey. a shivering mess of repulsive youth stole away the reaper's pin of stillness, and replaced it with a tumbling set of splintered dominos.

the flesh of child tasted candied, for innocence was a spice that could not be found elsewhere.

he lingered in the distance, the cloak of twilight an ally to hellish delight.

a low, rotten whistle found it's way through cracked lips. devil basked in toying wickedness.

for innocence tasted sweet, but fear tasted sweeter.


RE: Sweet lighthouse - Donnie - October 03, 2023

Donnie saw the faint sheen of dying leaves in the distance, and set his aspiring gaze on that. He would have to tread carefully down the ridge’s edge, especially in the dark. With nothing but silence in his ears, he could move forward without distraction-

Until the scent of gamey blood drifted in his direction. His ears shifted but only in uncertainty. Never in his life had he been able to perceive anything fainter than a shout, and even then it was without articulation. 

The man went unseen, unheard, unnoticed.

The youngster began to amble down the incline, until the shale gave away beneath his trembling feet and he slipped.


RE: [m] Sweet lighthouse - The Harvester - October 04, 2023

death remained an elusive shadow, ever present, but teasing on rancid winds. he stalked in the distance, mouth slobbering at the anticipation of unspoiled flesh. raw and wriggling, just as he preferred.

but death had swifter plans than what beast did.

prey slipped from sight and sound to what rigid earth rest below. monstrous figure made of a vicious sneer as he pursued his lost meal.

of a creature that rarely hoped for life, devil found himself desiring the survival of ignorant adolescence. if only so that he might hear the screams of a child as he tore his innards out and painted a mural of intestines before him.


RE: [m] Sweet lighthouse - Donnie - October 04, 2023

Donnie whimpered as he slid down the incline, loose, flat stones beneath his feet and body skittering down the slope. When he hit something larger, he tumbled, and when he tumbled, his momentum picked up. What he didn't realize at the time was that by shrugging him off its shoulder, the ridge had slipped a bit of distance between him and the one who lurked, watching. 

By the time he came to a halt, he was completely covered in grey dirt, and bruises began to flare and flame beneath his skin. He picked himself up carefully, finding himself on more solid ground. His head ached, and could see where the skin had been scraped and torn along his elbows, shins and knees. 

Still- he was closer to the forest, and while currently unrecognizeable between the mountain powder that covered him and the swelling on his face, he began to tread again, slowly, but hopefully.