The Heist

Upvotes lead to tales, tales lead to happiness. You have a choice: stop being gloomy.

rating: +18+x
The light blades of grass ebb and flow as you slither by them. The echoes of moonlight create a perfect shadow for you— one which you can hide yourself in.

You reach the window, and take a peek inside.


You quietly tiptoe to the front door, unlocking it with your skeleton key. You knew it’d come in handy.

The door creaks open, and your eyes behold the visage of the most dirty house you’ve ever been to. Dirty socks thrown all around, prehistoric pieces of pizza lurking in corners. But you’re not here for sightseeing. You’re here for food.

You lunge to the kitchen like an ardent rabbit, pulling the fridge open.

Where you would expect to see tons upon tons of frozen, perhaps even pre-baked pizza, you instead peer at a ghastly pile of bones.

You hear footsteps behind you. They are heavy, but rhythmical, almost like a melody. As if their source was expecting you here.

“Got you, you little rat.”

You feel a metallic surface smash the scalp of your skull, your brain’s course turning to that of a rollercoaster.

Your body limps. You fall to the floor, rivers of velvet emanating from a bump at the backside of your head. Your vision blurs, your thoughts wither away. At your last moments, you manage to spit out a few words.

“Wh-who…are you?”

The man’s lips malform into an eerie smile. You could tell he’s practiced a lot just for that part of the show.

“Just a little tale author.”

He clutches you by your collar, dragging you to a room filled to the brim with Legos. He forces your feet upon them, while hot rods of pain sear your bones.

You stare at him one last time.

“I have to do it, my friend. There’s no other way you’d read them.”

Fade to black.

My collection of abhorrent abominations.

Crooked Kingdom (+26)
Memoirs of identity, nobodies of a crimson moon.

Ùlla Na Folla (+36) FEATURED!
Worlds die and fade to the night’s embrace. Others survive a little more. And back home, a man and his cat watch as a Sumerian warrior from ages forgotten engages in some real Resident Evil.

Oh, I forgot to mention. I’m also a dado certified pharmacist. As you know, I sell tales to cure depression.

He was pretty neat, if you ask me. Even gave me my own personal dado club membership badge.

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