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[Writing] Journal

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#1
Hyena.

Hyena.

    Who?

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This was a play around with a vague concept. I suppose it's more like creepypasta than anything else, and while I set out for it to be creepy, I didn't mean it to be quite so straight-pasta-y.
But yes, like the description says, this was purely a play around with a new concept both format and genre-wise.

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Journal, 01/06/11

Miranda told me I should start one of these. Keep track of my thoughts. Keep things organised, she said. I supposed it couldn't hurt. Keeping things in one place makes sense to me. Maybe after a couple days, I read back over, things will make more sense.

Anyway. Miranda said I should describe the things I see. Apparently that'll let me see how silly they are. Apparently the thought just propogates itself, or something, if I keep it in my mind, if I 'obssess over it'. I'm not 'obssessing' over it, it just comes up a lot. Even if it's only me.

So, I see them. It started a couple months ago, but it was only out of the corner of my eye, I just put it down to tiredness most of the time. Work was stressing me out, big clients wavering on whether they'd re-sign. We got the majority and I stopped seeing them for a week or so, I just forgot about it. But then they got...more bold.

They're...odd. There's always three. Never a pair, or one on its own. Always a group of three. Completely white, head to toe, like those albinos. If they had hair, that'd probably be white too, and I guess their eyes would be that weird pink colour. Maybe that's assuming too much.

They're tall, too. I can never look at them for too long, it unnerves me too much, but maybe eight feet? Something like that. They look all stretched out, too. Arms and legs are too long. Lanky fuckers. They have huge fingers, and their skin just clings to their bodies. You can see ribs and pelvis and all the tendons on their hands...it freaks me out just describing it.

I'm going to bed. I've had enough of today.

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Journal, 03/06/11

I fucking woke up to one of them today. Not in my house, I don't think they can cross any threshold like that. But outside my window. I moved my bed to face away from it, but I couldn't bring myself to put the head against the window. I shoved it side-on against the opposite walls. Had to rearrange my whole goddamn room. Things are taking control of me. Miranda said that was a bad sign, like I needed telling.

Didn't see them on the way to work, though, or through the day at all. Then I came home and...they were waiting for me. Just stood at the side of my house, almost hiding. I threw a rock at them, missed. Neighbour looked at me weird. Didn't give a shit. They're getting to me, I feel nervous all the time now. Just glad that they don't follow me away from the house. Come to think of it, never seen them move at all. They just...appear. Until I see them, and then next time I look back they're gone again. I think they just like to let me know they're still watching. The image of them claws at the back of my mind all the time now. I'm turning in.

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Journal, 04/06/11

They...they followed me to work, today. I freaked out while I was on the phone, I had to make an excuse and say I'd call them back. Ran to the restroom, splashed my face. Got a grip. Wasn't expecting it. Suprprised me, is all. I've gotten used to seeing them, just...only at home.

I guess they've gotten...bolder? Stronger? If the latter, I don't know why, or where from. I don't feel bad at all, apart from the general anxiety of having these things stalking me, but even that gets pushed away as I get on with my day.

I don't know. I just. All I can do about these things is guess, and make abstract estimations. I don't even know who they are. Or even what they are. It's...it's starting to get to me, I won't lie. I just want to know...something.

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Journal, 05/06/11

Fuck them. Who or what do they think they are? I don't give a shit about the stalking, the endless, silent watching. But fuck them for thinking they can come into my home, move my things.

I...I'm pissed, and scared, if I'm honest. I came home early, let off by the boss because I looked 'shaky'. I've been getting good clients recently so apparently my revunue was fine for the moment anyway. I got home quickly, couldn't shake that feeling of being watched, and when I got to my door...I'd been fumbling for my keys - I was shaky and I didn't want to drop them, and I looked up and fucking shouted when I saw them - those things, standing on the other side. Inside my house. Looking out at me. I got...angry, first of all. Grabbed my keys and threw the door open, hoping to catch on of the sonuvabitches. Didn't, of course, they were just gone, the way they always are.

Then I noticed. Things had been moved. First of all, every mirror in the house was backwards, the reflecting panes against the wall. Every mirror. The one on the bathroom cabinet was just shattered - had to brush up the shards. Paintings had been taken down, or swapped for other paintings. Ornaments had been moved, or taken. Still haven't found them all.

Things have been gone all night. Though I saw them out the corner of my eye while I was clearing up, standing in the corner. They were grinning. They have no mouths, but they were grinning.

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Journal, 10/06/11

I haven't left the house all week. Boss called Tuesday, pissed. Asked where I was Monday. Told him he was right, I had come down with the flu hard. Told him I'd be taking the week off, out of my holiday. He wasn't pleased but he took it.

Left me alone for the first couple days. Then I think they got bored. They love to torment me. Can't do that if I don't move. They've been stood in the corner today. Making noises day before that. Don't know how or what with. Not sure I want to know. Some of it just sounded like they were throwing pots and pans around. Some of it didn't. I didn't mind the pots and pans.

Tired. Hard to sleep, they're watching me all the time. Hard to close your eyes when you can see them. Don't want them to move. Might get closer. Might open your eyes face to face with them.

They're not grinning anymore. They feel sorry for me. They're patient. Just standing there.

Really do feel ill, though. Face is looking pale. Took some sleeping pills, should kick in soon.

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Journal, 13/06/11

Hair's coming out from the stress. Still haven't gone to work. Boss called; fired me for third day missing. Left a voicemail. Phone's in the hallway. Can't answer it. Looking at the things.

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Journal, 14/06/11

I'm so tired. So tired. So tired. Can't sleep, looking, watching. So tired. Hair gone. So tired.

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15/06/11

They're resting. No eyes, eternal sleep. Why can't I be like them? Why can't I sleep? The White Men come and they watch you and they mock you, and they sleep oh they sleep oh I want to sleep please let me sleep White Men please I must shut my eyes but I must watch you and look at you and you look back and I must sleep

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they have shown me what i can see without looking and i can watch the world and it is beautiful we do not need eyes to see they are useless they are limited they are obstacles against what we can see if we look and observe

i will join the white men in their watching and i will weep invisible tears at the beauty and i will sleep forever

watching weeping sleeping come join the white men they will show you they will let you see we will show you how to look we will wait for you

i will sleep now

hello white men

can i watch too
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#2
.. ...

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Slightly overplayed format, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
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#3
Crispin

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I like the theme. What you're trying to do is different and to say that this is a new format you're trying, it's not bad.

But it could use some work.

I can see the feelings you're trying to get across here, but at times it's so gripping, drawing me in and then nothing. It's simplistic in some parts, and you're not fully exploring that grimness you're trying to portray here. At some scenes it is too repetitive, the words sound a like and they blur together and it makes it seem as if you've read it before, when that's not the case.

Describe the rooms, their features, the feelings, the atmosphere in more detail. Make it seem frantic, are you afraid? It seemed like the character was just coasting along, I only sensed a vague sense of discomfort. More emotion and descriptive language would go a long way. Emphasise the theme here, you could seriously write some seriously creepy stuff and give people nightmares, like the scene where they were outside the window, loved it.. but then it didn't make me feel the dread I was expecting. It's kinda like in a horror movie when they close the cupboard, and look in the mirror and the music builds up.. and there's nothing there right? Then you think 'holy shit it's going to be behind the character', and instead they casually turn around and there's nothing there, but then the scary monster walks in casually going 'hey'.

It's just like a horror story, but with no real horror.
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#4
NewlyGeeking

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As you said it is basically a creepy+pasta, which is awesome... Except for the part where I wake in the middle of the night and see white faceless things everywhere.
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#5
Steve 

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It began great. I read all creepy-pastas in the archive they set up and my favourite ones are the journals. It makes it feel more real, which is definitely effective. As I say though, it began great. The ending seems rushed, which ruins it IMO.

I like the story told, he begins a normal human being, slowly being tortured by these entities, eventually turning into one of them. I get the feeling, though, that this would be much better if this journal was found by someone who now lives in the home he lived in and the piece is him commenting on this weird journal he found. The reason I think that it would make it better is at the end, where spelling, punctuation and grammar decay, the person commenting on the journal found could say something like "The entries start to make no sense as if he's forgetting how to write" and an effort to make out what the journal reads toward the end.

I could imagine, back in the day of reading all the creepy pastas I could find, that I'd read this and would have lost sleep. Then again being awake at 3am with eerie noises outside and an inexplicable breeze brushing past my face, I become highly suggestible...
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