“Blood Letting” // Blood Warrior
“Blood Letting” // Blood Warrior
Pearlington, MS 1/19
Bergger Pancro 400
honestly don’t know why Leonard Cohen isn’t worshipped by the whole grandmacore/vintage aesthetic community like fr tho
I drive past these Everytime on my way home and I hate it
There are plenty of staircases in the middle of the woods, and we all have heard the stories about what happens if you go up them. But you don’t hear much about the doors you can find at the heart of forests. It’s probably because the heart of a forest is not easily accessed. However, should you manage to find your way into one, you will always find a door. Frame and all, with no building around it or any signs that there ever was anything more to it. Just a door. I don’t suggest you go through it unless you either know that the forest has deemed you worthy of protecting, or you are in search of a fate worse than death at the hands of natural spirits.
If you do find one, pay close attention to any markings the door bears, as the type, frequency, and severity all determine the kind of things waiting for you beyond that door. Depending on what exactly you find there, it may be in your best interest to leave without another thought about it.
Should you decide to enter, it will feel as if you have merely walked through the door, nothing will feel different.
I cannot tell you certainly about all the potential things you might find when you cross over. There’s too many possibilities. Crossing between realms is an unstable practice. However, here are some things to keep in mind:
·You do not want to get injured on the other side of the door.
·You do not want to die on the other side of the door.
·Do not eat or drink anything you find on the other side of the door.
·Do not make eye contact with strangers in black coats on the other side of the door.
·should you manage to find yourself on the otherside of the door, do not interact, do not attempt to interact, and should the “you” on the other side see you, leave immediately and never come back.
·if you don’t recognize the language spoken on the other side, They are plotting. You have about 35 minutes to leave after you realize.
·Do not attempt to remain here or to stay overnight. You will not be allowed to leave.
If you thought the kind of otherworldly beings you can run into in gas stations or truck stops late at night were weird, then you definitely can’t handle the ones you’ll find in the frozen food isles of your nearest middle-of-nowhere walmart that you didnt know existed before today.
If you ever find a deer that has three eyes, you’re better off keeping your distance. Eyes hold secrets and you don’t want to fuck with the kind of secrets three eyes can bear as opposed to just two.
I need a list of southern gothic books/movies
The streets are lined with pop up stands as traffic is redirected around the festivities that the locals await all year. Laughter intermingles with carols and the scent of American pad thai. There’s a table serving hotty toddies– for free.
The temperature is as balmy as springtime.
There’s a little dog decked out in holiday livery riding around in a an electric toy train, controlled by an owner unseen… Or so the sign around it’s neck informs the gawking, giggling crowd. No one cares for the details; the tree on the thoroughfare is lit and the children are happy.
There’s snow in the air. It smells like the misnamed Greek honey puffs that anger the locals, tastes like ghost peppers and fever dreams.
Darkness befalls the city as if on cue, accompanied by a wintry haze– conditions that weren’t forecast by the meteorologists that day. The old farmers almanac knew, but no one paid attention to it. The event planners listened to the hurried words of the local YiaYias instead.
The crowd gathers at the bayou, cheeks rosy with delight and their hair dusted with white. Their eyes shined eagerly in anticipation of the wonders to come.
From the thick haze it emerges slowly, parting the water with every stroke. An army of boats steadily come into view, their hulls lined with lights that glimmer above and below the waterline. No one questions this. They linger by their illegal firepits roasting marshmallows as their children dance perilously close to the edge of the sea wall, begging for offerings of candy, peppermint sticks, and good cheer.
The snow is fake, but the sentiments are real.
… as real as whatever was hidden within the mist, drawing strength from the masses after generations of biding it’s time.
The children better watch out. The people better watch out.
You better watch out.
You better watch out.
Broke: “My mom’s Okie & my dad’s Texan so I grew up in between the South & the Midwest.
Woke: "I was a child born of the red river rivalry.”
You cannot remember how long you’ve been driving, or when it started snowing. It could have been five minutes or five hours, but there is a gap in your memory. You dont remember where you are, but stopping isn’t an option considering this is the middle of nowhere and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever been here in your entire life. You glance down at your phone, but there’s no signal. You try to focus on the road, but the snow makes it harder to see. As you continue forward, you swear to god you see two little red lights off in the treeline beside the road. Eyes? No, it can’t be. In this weather nothing would be dumb enough to come out.
…….that doesnt mean it isn’t hungry enough…….
You try to blink sudden tiredness from your eyes and push onward. As you drive further up the path, you see a streak of red on top of the snow, slowly being covered by the fresh layer. The streak slopes off into the treeline. Your stomach flips, and you feel yourself putting a little more pressure on the gas pedal and gripping your steering wheel a little tighter. You continue driving. Once again you swear you see two glints of red shinning out from the treeline. They feel closer this time. You tell yourself to focus and keep driving. The snow is coming down heavier now, and you’re unsure of how long you’ve been driving anymore. The clock on your dashboard is frozen and your phone died a few miles back. You’re unsure of where you are, or why you’re even here to begin with. And you swear that something is following you off in the treeline. You feel eyes on you from all angles, but cant see your spectators. You try to force yourself to focus on the road, but you see those red lights again. Then another pair. And another. And another
They are everywhere. Peering at you from every angle in the treeline on either side of this tiny road. You are not alone, and they are not fond of company.
Your heart starts to race as you realize what you’re looking at. You’ve seen quite enough. You jam the gas pedal into the floor, you need to get out fast. The trees start zipping by you on either side, but no matter how far you drive there are always more glowing eyes burning holes into your soul as they stare out. As you speed along, desperate to escape, you see a vague figure walkint across the road ahead. Your headlights dont reach far enough to make out the details, but whatever it is, it is much taller than you, much bigger than you, and it is not a person. You slam your breaks to avoid a collision. Whatever it is, it turns to look at you. You still cant make out what you’re seeing, but its red eyes pierce your soul. You feel your heart jumping from your chest, you don’t know what to do. It takes a labored step in your direction, you panic.
you don’t have many options, and fighting was checked off that list long ago. You freeze. It takes another step. And another. Another. It enters the pool of dim light cast by your car, but no details become any clearer. It stands there, towering over you. It sees you. It knows you’re here. The creature twitches, then lets out a gutwrenching scream unlike anything you have ever heard. It bolts towards you, you have no time to react, no chance of survival.
The last thing you hear is the screaming echoed by god knows how many of those hellspawn creatures, ringing in the air, deafening.
“By the time you hear the otherworldly screaming, it is far too late. Your time has run out, and God cannot see your blood running hot against the snow as it is spilled out here.”
all we know is that she never really left her home town
i need more people to follow so lmk somehow (like, rb, reply) if you post any of these:
- dark academia
- southern gothic
- concept playlists or any kind of mixtapes
- greek mythology and literature
- ancient history
and i will follow u from my main !!
The 106 acres of berry fields behind my work, pitch dark and brimming with coyotes, wailing melancholically:
Me, whilst waiting for the shop’s garage door to firmly close before I go home for the night: Worm, dude