Quote:Ok, one day there was this really good Hockey Mask posted on this forum. Some guys who are experts hated on it. The guy that put all his hard work into this mask got really pissed off. So he decides to go to the negative posters houses and hack off their faces and make really crappy hockey masks out of them. And than sell them.

Ok, it\'s a start.
Disclaimer: This is a story, not an actual event or feeling.

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Quote:Ok, one day there was this really good Hockey Mask posted on this forum. Some guys who are experts hated on it. The guy that put all his hard work into this mask got really pissed off. So he decides to go to the negative posters houses and hack off their faces and make really crappy hockey masks out of them. And than sell them.

Ok, it\'s a start.
Disclaimer: This is a story, not an actual event or feeling.

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Quote:Necrophillia! The man was obsessed with it and often spent most his nights in the graveyard with a fresh corpse and a bottle of wine. All was well until one night when...

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Quote:something unexpected happen.  He was running his hands along the rough, dead skin of a beautiful corpse when he thought he felt it move.  He pulled back from the decomposing body for just a moment and examined it carefully, waiting to see what would happen, though he was sure it was just imagined.  He pulled in close again and continued his with his play when suddenly, the corpse did move.  It\'s cold hand reached up and

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Quote:attempt to destroy the rotting prophet, only to feel cold hands clench their very hearts at the site of it, they fleed.
  The man could feel the reek of its undead breath against his cheek as his head was slowly turned and following a dry dusty retch it said,
  "He will come for you...", then the corpse lay still. The man still in denial of what had happened leapt out of the grave and collapsed, he felt sick, his vision blurred as vomit splashed against the back of his throat and burst forth from between his teeth, he staggered into an upright position and went back to retrieve his wine.
  Looking down into the sunken milky eyes of the corpse he slowly crept forward, lowered himself silently into the grave, he was going to quickly put the coffin lid back then snatch up his bottle when....again it stirred, another creaking rewtch escaped the desicated being as a cloud of dust and dead insects sprayed from its mouth and exposed ribcage, it swung its head in the direction of him, and the man with no thought of keeping his masculinity screamed out loud.
  "Shut the fuck up you shit!", the thing voilently retorted before scooping up the wine bottle and smashing it into the face of the terrified man.
  He staggered as blood sparyed forth from his ruined nose and mashed lips, he turned to extricate himself from the grave a second time and found the repugnant creature holding onto him with inhuman strength, as it pulled him close again he felt a small moan of terror escape his ragged lips.
  "I warned you, and you fucking ignored me, I might as well kill you myself cos theres no way you can survive against him!" and it uttered \'Him\' with such vehemance that the stale breath on his cheek was joined by tiny bits of dry flesh, "But no, I wont do that, I\'ll give you something to remember my warning with though!"...

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Quote:((damn...someone\'s a writer, lol))
The man tried once more to pull himself out of the grave, and almost made it, but the corpse gripped onto his legs tightly.  He could feel it\'s fingernails digging into the flesh of his leg.  Suddenly he felt a sharp burning feeling on his back.  He screamed out in pain as the skin melted away, forming a demonic symbol in the center of his back.  After what seemed like forever, the pain stopped.  The creature\'s grip on his leg instantly released and the man was free.  He pulled himself up and staggered a few feet away from the grave.  He wanted to look in, to see if what had become of the corpse, or how it had burned him, but after what had just happened, he thought it best not to go near the grave again.  He took a couple of steps back, limping.  He looked down at the bloody tears in legs of his pants, and tried to reach back with a hand to feel his back.  Even with the slightest brush against his shirt, the pain was too unbearable for him to further the exploration of that wound.  He examined his surroundings, the familiar, and once comfortable graveyard had taken on a new look; now it was the stereotypical horror movie graveyard.  The dark, naked trees standing alone, surrounded by the graves of the dead.  The full moon shone above, casting a haunting light across the yard.  He slowly started to catch his breath, but his pulse would not slow.

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