I have always been telling stories and I tell them well. The details, the drama, the twist, my stories are never the same and impossible to predict. Yet once they have been told I either get banned, thrown out, or both. helfbd
I can even recall the very first time I told one of my stories. It was at a sleepover with my classmates, at John’s house. Right before bed, I felt a strong urge to just start talking, like I was compelled to tell them. The story was clawing to get out of my head. I got two minutes into the story and two of the other children began to cry, and another vomited. John ran to his parents screaming. Needless to say, I got thrown out. I was confused by the whole situation but it didn’t bother me too much, they were the weird ones and that has been my attitude all my life since. Fjbfnd
That night my parents found out that I am different, that I can tell incredible stories, just like they can, and I finally understood why we kept moving throughout my childhood. And they told me something I didn’t expect, they also feel compelled to tell special stories. Kdjfb
We cannot write our stories on paper, on a computer, or even record them on audio devices, the words seem to come out ”different” than what they are supposed to be unless the stories come out straight from our mouths into your ear. But they never told me why it is like this and why nobody seems to like our stories. As a child, I told stories any chance I had, in the classroom, on the street, to a stranger, or in a library just to get rid of that clawing feeling, but then as I became older I could restrain myself somewhat and I wanted to know more so..
I did some experimenting in my youth with the purpose to unlock these mysteries; I had just moved out to my own apartment and I chatted with a girl on Myspace and invited her home. We had some laughs and I poured her more and more wine until she became frisky and wanted to fool around, I took her into my bedroom and showed her a chair that I had prepared with rope and I asked her to sit down in it and close her eyes. Drunk and willingly she did and I whispered sweet nothings while I gently but firmly tied her up. Then I grabbed a chair from the kitchen and sat down in front of her.
I asked her if she wanted to hear a story and she giggled and nodded. I also asked her if it was okay if I videotaped this and she gave me a weird grimace but I took out my old but trusty VHS recorder anyway and faced it toward us.
I began telling a story. At first, she just looked confused and I stopped and asked her what was wrong, and her reply was ” Isn’t this a story for children? I think I have heard it.” I was shocked and told her that all my stories take shape right as I speak the words and they are never the same and completely my own. She just shook her head and I continued with it.
I had probably said 13 sentences before I noticed small puddles of tears forming below her eyes, slowly zipping down her cheek. I continued. The puddles became oceans, her eyes now red and strained, her voice cracked and she begged me to stop. I could however not stop now, the clawing feeling was overwhelming and I needed to stop so I continued.
Something red started to leak from the sides of her mouth and I knew it was the wine from earlier. She tried to speak but only a gurgling sound came out along with wine and small pieces of food.
I continued..
This was new, I had never noticed this happening before as nobody had bared to listen to this long, but some dark reddish ooze trickled from her ears. I raised my eyebrow in surprise for a moment but the clawing was so intense so I continued as normal.
She was now shaking so frantic that the skin around her wrists started to peel against the rope. Desperately trying to get out of the chair and run. But I continued.
Then.. Well, I guess she barely had any skin left around her hands because she slid right out the knots of the rope and flew up from the chair, she raced to the door and ran out.
The clawing stopped instantly. It was and is always such a relief. Needless to say, I never heard from her again.
I prepared the VHS tape and put it on, and I was a bit confused about what I heard. To me, the story was beautiful and fascinating but the audio of the VHS was just strange gibberish as if I was rewinding the tape. Only her little pleadings were heard throughout the whole thing.
I can try wdkfkd glgd leoejdhd nskshd uette bbdkw jdndsh bdbsksl fgkgl skgkfk vBsbd sfjdb zbzndk pqowufj helsjdj hellfjdb helfbfb helzbsbsb helsgavsb heldhrk heldhdvb helsf .. ..