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Tumblr's ask limitToday is June 9th,
my 21st birthday.
Yesterday my long-distance girlfriend killed herself.
It all started with her telling me
over the phone
that she wanted to cut deeper then usual.
She told me she knew her limit
which scared me even more.
because if normally slices her wrist’s
at the very limit
I’d hate to know what “cut deeper” meant
so that was the first alarm.
An hour into the phone call
she started crying uncontrollably
and kept on telling me that she loved me
no matter what.
The “no matter what” scared me.
That was the second alarm.
I went on her Tumblr to send her a cute message
to try and cheer her up
when I saw her suicide note.
In disbelief, I refreshed the page
only to learn she blocked me
from her Tumblr. I was too busy with this to realize
she had hung up the phone as well.
I went on my alternate Tumblr account
and luckily enough I could see her page again
but all I could do is ask her anonymous messages.
To My RapistYou killed yourself the other day
because you were finally going to jail
for what you did to me
and countless other kids
and let me tell you
how livid that makes me.
I hate the fact that you stole
my virginity from me.
I hate that you’re not getting what
I hate that you took
the coward’s way out.
But most of all
that I didn’t get the chance
to forgive you
and for that
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More