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Zac
Zac owns this human at 10000 points.
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Zac
Zac
"the Poet "



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Zac
Last login: over 3 weeks ago
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Zac
Zac
"the Poet "
10000 pts
Zac's tales
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Zac
It's dark, it's cold and there's nothing, nothing to stress over. Frank liked it that way. No people to worry about, no noise. Frank was a writer. He wrote for the local paper in town as a advice columnist. Three months ago someone wrote in about needing help. Frank ignored the letter thinking the person who wrote it must be crazy. The letter consisted of paranoid ramblings over being followed in the street by some monster and even dreaming about it. The writer of the letter later killed herself in front of the newspaper building. Frank couldn't deal with the event or the constant questioning. He felt as if he was to blame and could have helped had he done more. He moved out to the country, far into the country. The house belonged to his grandmother who left it to him. Frank wanted to escape the remorse he had fet and to find himself. He didn't know exactly what he needed. Everything had always just fell into place and he had never gone through something like this.
His soul searching started at the house in the country and would hopefully end with a grand idea, or plan. One thing Frank could always do was write, even if just to relax. So he decided to start a new story just for fun. The story would be a journal of his quest in self discovery. A manifest of the things he cared about and wanted to explore. And maybe in the course, a way to forget the tragedy that changed his life.
Frank's house was 100s of miles away from town, hidden in a tree farm that his family owned for 4 generations. His cell phone would hardly get reception and only in one spot out in the yard, but Frank wasn't concerned. The weather was clear and sunny. Also the house was equipped with a shortwave radio to reach the nearest police station if an emergency were to occur.
The night was cold. There was a soft mist in the wind. Frank shivered and crossed his arms. He stood on his deck gazing into the night sky. He felt at peace there for the first time in months. He still needed to work and kept thinking to go set down at his laptop and write, but he was more interested in the sounds he heard through the woods. He did not miss the loud city. He felt at home there.
Frank's hands grew cold and he was suddenly shivering cold. He tried to walk back into the house from his porch, when all of the sudden he locked up! His legs, arms and back painfully cramped up and he fell forward to the floor of the deck. He tried to move around but it was as if he was being folded backwards. He cried out in pain trying to regain a normal form. Even his fingers seemed to felt like they were being bent back. Then as Fank turned his head towards the open field in front of his house the pain stopped and was replaced by chest clenching paralysis. Then right in front of his view was a ghostly apparition of a young woman whose face had been mutilated. She smiled but not in a happy way, but an anxiety filled rage! "STOP"!

Zac "the Poet " - 6 days ago
Zac
I'm lying in soft warm mud, cushind by soft weeds and vines. I'm in the middle of nowhere, with no one else in sight. A damp dark swamp just for me. I'm comfortable and content laying there naked. Then I start to sink. I don't move. The mud dribbles into my mouth and nostrils. The edges of my eyes itch and burn as silt slowly fills them. All that is left is darkness. Safe peaceful darkness. Nothing hurts, nothing matters. Everything is fine.

Zac "the Poet " - 6 days ago
Zac
I wake up in the morning, next to you. I run my finger along your back, admiring it's curvature. As you lay next to me, the blanket only covering you feet, I fight the urge to taste your skin. I want to pull you against me and wrap my arms around you. I can see, feel and taste your love for me. And i feel it in my soul as much as i feel it in the way you start to breath harder as I explore you.
Zac "the Poet " - 8 days ago
Zac
When I'm coming home to you I can already taste your skin. I can already feel your lips. I can already smell your hair and I can see your eyes looking into mine. This is because each one of those left a lasting impression from the first time I experienced them and I will never want to forget them. Sometimes I forget myself, but I will never ever forget
Zac "the Poet " - 16 days ago
Zac
I'm inside.
Staring at my mind.
The things I see.
Don't seem right to me.
I try to escape.
But the door just won't break free.

Let me out.
And don't go in…

I collide.
Trying to survive.
The keys with me.
But hidden in my thoughts.
I try to make since.
But the answer just won't come.

Let me out.
And don't go in…

I been locked inside now,
For way too long.
I don't even know,
Where I left off. (Back to beginning)×1


Zac "the Poet " - 16 days ago
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