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… I mean, I’m just doing this to set the record straight.
(murmurs are heard in the background by somebody telling them it’s alright.)
….
Ok, so I just talk into this? Really? Alright.
So, Is there anything in particular…? (The same man is heard just telling him to say whatever he wants to add to the recording.) Oh, Okay. Here I go then.
Ok, so just so you all know, I’m not Antisocial or emo. I do go out of my way to avoid talking to people, but it’s not because I don’t like talking to people, or have my ego stuck so far up my as I can’t breathe. Hell, I love talking to people. It’s just that people are boring. It’s not helped that when I point out the wolves going through peoples garbage or the oddly pale people that look like they’re sticking oddly close to the shadows, people shrug me off as another weirdo who’s been taking a bit too much of the stuff. But I’m not. After all, I’ve been clean for, well, ever. Of course, they’ll probably just diagnose me with some bullshit Psyche disorder. Typical.
But it’s been getting worse. Even when they should be plainly, no, obviously able to be seen, these guys ignore it. It’s like they can’t see any of them. Even when one of them is dragging some guy into a freaking alley, they just go along on their usual routine, ignoring the screams. It’s like I’m surrounded by a bunch of effing sheep.
Ugh, I can feel the cliché coming off of me. If it makes you feel any better, just ignore what I just said there, okay?
But anyway, They’re everywhere, but these guys just ignore the fact that the guy they’re talking to is covered in enough blood to freak out a goddamn vampire. Or the fact that they’re furry. Or that they have Wings, for chrissakes. Or the trail of scorch marks. The list goes on. And yet, everybody just ignores it.
…Uh, How much time before we have to go? (a man Is heard pulling a cell phone out of his pocket, then saying a number.) Oh, that’s enough.
(A woman is heard in the background)
Huh?
(The woman asks the interviewee the question again.)
Oh, Yeah, Get me one too.
So anyway, as I’m looking around, I See these guys walking around covered in blood or whatever their deal is, and I point it out to my friends. But they almost always think I’m joking, and start laughing. It’s ridiculous. But it goes on, I get an odd glance from the guy I Pointed out.
The…Other stuff isn’t exactly helping, either. You know how you sometimes get a glance of yourself in a mirror, either out of the corner of your eye, or just a sudden change in your appearance? I Get those all the ******** time now. I Mean, I did start getting it a bit after I Got my prescription, but now they’re just there, Regardless. Hell, one time I swear to god there were wings growing out of my back. Not feathered or leathery, just skeletal wings. The fact that they were bleeding when I saw it didn’t help matters much, in regards to the sleep I got that night. But hell, now it’s just flickers. I mean, Hell. …Weird word, isn’t it? We use it to convey aggression, or anger, but it’s really just another word.
Huh.
Anyway. So now I get flickers of my friends as those…other things, the burning demons or the Wolves or the Vamps or whatev’. It used to start small, but now It’s full body, like a Halloween costume. Only it’s just there for a second, like blink and you’ll miss it. Not that you wouldn’t want to, I Mean, some of that stuff gets freaky.
(There is a brief pauses, then the woman is heard again, telling the interviewee that They have to leave.)
Huh? Oh, we’re done here? Oh, so, uh, what do I Do? Just take this off? Oh, alright.
(A crash is heard in the background, followed by frantic shouting. There are numerous voices, however it appears that there is somebody screaming in pain. Another voice is heard screaming, followed by a quieter series of cracks and ripping flesh, before the man just starts screaming incoherently. There is a drip of blood on the floor. There is silence.)
…You alright, Ed?
(There is a scraping sound, followed by the other man’s screaming. There is a hushed feeling of anticipation. The man’s screaming turns to roars, and he gives out a low growl. There is the sound of people quietly leaving the room, and there is another silence. There is a sound similar to nails on a fingerboard, and the growls are now faint. All that can be heard clearly at this point are the Interviewee’s faint breath.)
[Recording Ends.]
- by NumberofTheMoose |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 09/21/2009 |
- Skip

- Title: Recording One.
- Artist: NumberofTheMoose
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Description:
An interview. Just read it, I suck at Descriptions.
Also, this Thing is horrible. Tell me what you like and dislike about about it. - Date: 09/21/2009
- Tags: recording starts
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Comments (2 Comments)
- SunflowerMagnet8 - 12/08/2009
- I like how you write, but this sounds more like a play then a story.
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- Lady Deana - 09/26/2009
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honestly, i like it. Not your every day average description of things, but I can imagian listening to the recording. Cool. hope u write more.
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