Posts

Demon relationship

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The first time I saw them, I was too young to understand. My name is Cat, and in my entire life demons have followed me. I don’t know why, I don’t know what they want, but they’ve always been there—watching, whispering, waiting. Lately, though, their presence has become suffocating. The first time I encountered something demonic wasn’t in this life, but the one before. I don’t want to tell you how that life ended, only that I took my own way out. And when I did, I didn’t go where I thought I would. I woke up in an endless white desert. The air was still, the ground was soft beneath my feet, and all around me stretched nothingness—an infinite, pale void. I ran. I ran until my legs burned and my lungs screamed. But there was nowhere to run to, only more of the same. Eventually, I collapsed to my knees, my sobs echoing into the abyss. I was trapped, alone in this silent purgatory. A figure approached me. I don’t remember their face, their voice, or even their presence, just the overwh...
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Forever Mine

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Hannah first saw the ghost in her new apartment late at night. A shadow flickered near the window, and she felt a presence behind her. Turning quickly, she saw nothing, but the cold lingered. At first, it was small things. The feeling of being watched. The sound of a breath that wasn’t hers. Objects moving slightly when she wasn’t looking. Then it escalated. Her closet door creaked open on its own. The bathroom mirror fogged up, and words appeared in the condensation: “Do you remember me?” Hannah’s heart pounded. She had no idea who or what it was. The haunting grew worse. At night, she heard whispers in the dark. She could feel fingers brushing against her skin when she slept. Then, one evening, her phone screen glitched and showed an old childhood photo—one she didn’t remember taking. It was her at eleven years old, standing beside a boy. A boy she did remember. David. They had been kids. She was eleven, he was twelve. They met at summer camp and spent a week together. Holding hands,...
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Jonas, my bestfriend (part II)

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I walked home angrily, tormented by my thoughts. When I opened the door, I saw my roommate watching TV. We're just roommates; I didn't want to disturb him. I headed straight for the shower to wash away my emotions and calm down. After spending 20 minutes under the water, I emerged feeling refreshed and free from my anger, ready to think clearly and read more. But then I wondered, where is the book? I suddenly remembered... I had thrown it away...  Outside, snow start to blanketed Seattle - it was January, after all, and snow was expected- I felt like a wild animal. Why I was unable to control my emotions? I hastily put on some clothes, completely inappropriate for the snowy weather, but I needed that book back immediately. I ran as if my lungs were going to explode from the effort, which was totally unusual for me since I am not athletic. The only problem was... I couldn't remember where I had thrown it in the grass, and to my misfortune, the snow was covering...
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An Entity

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I was in my dorm at the University of São Paulo, where the poor students can rest. It was around 23:00 or later. The dorm is minuscule, about 3.5m x 2m. My mother used to say that you have to sleep standing up. Well, I was tired and had just bought a Coke and a cheese ball to eat. Very healthy, haha. The cheese ball was leaking oil, so disgusting but delicious. I took a shower and went straight up to bed. I was tired but wasn't sleepy; I was anxious about some university issues and my idiot ex-boyfriend's friends, i can't recall. I always cover my eyes with the blanket to block out the light because it makes it difficult for me to sleep.  After some time fighting with myself in bed I finally uncovered my eyes and saw.... something... coming from the window that was open for some air circulation, a black figure. It seemed like a kid or a very small woman standing beside the right side of my bed. I was totally frozen by fear, but this type of optical illusion always happens ...
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Jonas, my bestfriend (Part I)

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Everything started when I found that book. An old, brown leather-covered book lying abandoned in the middle of the park. Something about it pulled me in, an unexplainable force, like a whisper just beyond my comprehension. My fingers hesitated on the worn cover, feeling the rough texture as if the book itself was breathing beneath my touch. Curious, I flipped to the first page. The story seemed innocent at first, telling the tale of an infant born completely bald, yet with an unusual condition in his eyes, strabismus. My breath caught. That detail felt… unsettling. Eyes just like mine. I don’t know who wrote this, but I’ve lived with this condition my whole life. It never bothered me... not at all, really. But people made sure that this feature had some limelight. Some laughed, others mocked, and a few were outright violent, throwing punches because I “looked at them the wrong way.” Intrigued, I kept reading. The words pulled me in, deeper and deeper. Then, out of habit, I did what I a...
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Insane

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I was digging up the graveyard, insanely focused on taking the love of my life from the ground. I was mad, but this was all I could think about—pulling her out of that dirt and giving her a long, passionate kiss. The love of my life was dead.   I dug and dug, and then I struck a noise... That was the coffin—I was close. With great caution, I lifted it out of the ground and opened it. My heart was racing with excitement, my dick was hard too such surprise. When I saw her, she was perfect, just like the day we first met. Her long, curly hair was wet, framing her face beautifully. Her tiny lips were closed, as if begging for a kiss. I couldn't resist—she was teasing me even after death.  I kissed her gently, and for a moment, I swear she moved. I kissed her again. She moved.  Oh my God, she was alive! Or was I hallucinating?  I opened her mouth, and saw an endless darkness inside—maybe her soul was coming back.  I gave her one final kiss…  Terrible p...
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Primeiro post

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 Estou eu aqui pensando o que escrever para deixar você 🫵 leitor desatento e viciado em tiktok entretido Fica vai ter bolo Mas a real não quero escrever para alguém quero ser livre e tentar essa forma arcaica de comunicação. Kkk Em busca dessa liberdade resolvi adentrar o mar do blogger e essa estética bem garota ano 2000. Testando tbm o html e ver o que dá pra fazer com essa loucura
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