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Fantasy Stories – Anna’s Adventures Part III

Part I

Part II

Here is the next chapter of our Twitter stories. More to follow soon. If you’d like to adventure with us, you can vote on my daily polls to see where Anna goes and what she does next!

Anna dove into the grass, rolling out of the direct path of destruction. She pumped her legs as fast as they would carry her. Dirt, and debris showered her. It was getting harder to see. Was she still running in the same direction?

There was no sense in looking back. She ran forward as long as her lungs would allow, the deafening whistle ever-present. Something hard smacked into her side, then after a few more strides across her face. She’d managed to stumble into the woods.

Even as far as she believed she had pushed herself, the screaming of the tornado had not lessened. Trees were being pulled, uprooted as close as 50 feet away. Her body felt as if it would be lifted at any moment. This was it, she really felt it. The end of everything.

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The ground rushed at Anna’s face as thousands of tiny specs dug into her flesh. She clawed at anything she could as her legs flew out behind her. Her arms were quickly giving out. Maybe this was for the best─ maybe it was meant to be.

Her face crusted with dirt as tears streamed from her eyes. What had she done with herself? What had she done with her life? She was already twenty-nine with a dead end job and living off of her mother’s insurance money. How pathetic could you be?

Anna’s hands kept finding dirt. She stretched with all her strength, each grab more disheartening than the last. How long could this last? When would her arms finally collapse? She choked and sputtered as the dirt flew into her lungs.

Her arms collapsed, the wind whipping her hair in a tangled mess behind her. She felt herself being dragged backward as she pawed feebly at the dirt. The debris pummeled her head as she kept it low to the ground. It was the only way she could breath in the storm.

Anna felt the second she let go. All the good and the bad things she had done with her life flashed into her mind. What would her mother think? Simply letting go without a fight─to what end? Being swallowed up and ripped apart by a bit of rotating air?

A curious thing happened. One that Anna never knew she had within her. It bubbled up and yelled from deep within her, “I will not!” Her hands flew out and clawed deep into the earth. She gripped with all her might, pulling at all the roots, dirt, and debris beneath her.

With a hearty yell, Anna lunged forward a foot, maybe more, and then another. And another. Until her hand found air. She searched it frantically─ looking for solid ground. Finally, she found it. It was directly below her body. A cave? A drop? She didn’t know.

A tree ripped away beside her, a rock narrowly missed her head. It was as if the earth itself were coming uprooted. It was do or die, this moment, and it was her choice. She decided it far better a death than this and took the leap of faith.

#

Anna fell flat onto the other side. She wasn’t quite sure how she had landed on her back and remained upright, but somehow─ here she was.

She sat up, brushing the debris from her face, hair, and neck. The roaring had ceased, leaving behind a deafening silence. She sat very still, just inhaling and exhaling. She wondered if the boy was looking in on her. ‘We’re watching your every move.’ They’d said.

She drew her legs up, and though she didn’t trust them completely, and there was quite a bit of wobbling, she finally stood up. After a few more steadying breaths, Anna finally took a look at her surroundings. Her eyes widened.

The bridge seemed to stretch on forever. The more she looked, the further it went. Surely this was an optical illusion, there had to be a support somewhere. She looked up, and then behind her. It was a dead end, a solid wall of rock. Suddenly she felt very vulnerable on this small, grassy island. It couldn’t have been more than five feet in diameter, the whole of it! She peeked over the edge, only to find that the few pebbles that fell over from her shoes hadn’t made a sound. Was she…on a pillar? Anna spun around searching.

Yes, she found. There was literally nothing around and even if there were, you wouldn’t be able to see it. There was miles, upon miles of fog! It was a wonder that the bridge was so clearly visible. But then, now that she thought on it, they must have done this on purpose.

Anna ran her hands along the rails and gingerly pressed her foot onto the first few boards. There were no creaks or groans, it was incredibly solid. Like it were new, and yet old all at once. Someone had put some incredible work into this bridge.

The first dozen or so feet went by slowly, but after she neared thirty feet, she relaxed to her natural gait. It was a strong bridge, the sort she remembered walking across as a girl when her family went abroad. Those were good times, before her father had gone.

There were noises in the air now. Things that she hadn’t heard before. They were low and continuous, like a drone, and then high pitched sounds mixed in. It was as haunting as it was lovely, ethereal in its own way.

The smell reminded Anna of the sea. The air was chilly and damp. It was the kind of breeze that made you get goosebumps and all the hairs on your arms to stand on-end. She wasn’t sure, but it sounded like water was very near.

To be continued!

Thanks for adventuring with me. Let’s see what Anna gets in trouble with next time. ❤

❤ Grey

 

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Why Scary Movies Were Banned in My House

I knew I was different when I was a child. That sounds narcissistic as fuck, but it’s true.

Some years ago (when me and my mother were on speaking terms) I remember describing to her in perfect detail what my baby room looked like. Lot’s of violet and stuffed animals with gauze-y white curtains and white furniture. I remember my favorite stuffed animal was a white seal that I liked to bite on the nose. (It felt good on my gums. :3)

My mother blinked a few times and then, being the religious/superstitious woman she was, suggested that angels must have guided me out of my tiny human body into the spiritual realm, throwing me into an out-of-body experience.

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Whoa. Intense.

But, sadly─ my mom was wrong. Because unlike typical accounts of ‘out-of-body’, I didn’t see myself, or outside of my field of vision from the crib. (not to mention, I think it’s all a bunch of horse dung.)

To my mother’s credit, there is something unnerving about a child that not only corrects everything you say, but also tends to be extremely blunt and appears to lack feelings. This was the 90’s folks, and there was nothing more than just talks about ADD. (attention deficit disorder, now more commonly referred to as ADHD) But, alas, her daughter couldn’t have that, because mostly males were diagnosed with it at the time─ let alone any other possible issues.

And so, I was branded─ the Demon Child.

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Not because I was the spawn of satan, or some- such nonsense, but because I was that man’s daughter.

As you may have guessed, my parents split. Just after I was born, in fact. My mom’s thoughts?

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e.g.: me.

I was tirelessly and incessantly curious about everything─ especially death. When someone explained something to me, the first phrase that inevitably came out was ‘but why do we do it this way?’

I loved watching scary movies, so much that I would sneak out into the living room like a ninja behind our couch to watch ‘adults only’ films.

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Eventually, my mom and step-dad caught on and gave in. And so the three of us (my brother was very young then and slept in a crib) would sit on Friday nights and watch films. I’m sure my parents wanted to watch it in peace─

but I had questions.

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For the longest time, I would ask my parents obsessively about god, heaven, and bad guys. I would listen to the stories in church, but watch movies about the most horrible sides of humanity. My mom displayed both sides equally. So I would get a constant flood of conflicting evidence on human behavior.

And inconclusive data made me upset. Really upset. I liked control and understanding everything.

And so, my tiny villainous brain devised a scheme. Remove the control, and we have a predictable outcome where all other outcomes would cease to screw up my tireless conflicting world views.

Do any of you remember these?

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They were little 2×3 space heaters. Now hilariously illegal.

What happened to cross my mind at the moment, or what force compelled it, I’ll never know. I simply remember at the time, logic dictated that I do it.

And so, I stared at the wall heater. And it at me.

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I wasn’t allowed to touch the heater again.

And my scary movie days? Had to return back to me becoming one with the dark ninja force. At least, until after the coast had cleared.

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The Most Influential Comic Creators of all-time. Episode 1 – Frank Miller

This is going to be episode 1 of a mini-series I’m wanting to cover. Of course, the main comic creator I had to add first was Frank Miller. Why? I admire the hell out of the man. His style captures both main stream and comic audiences. And he has that sort of, ‘no fuss’ attitude I so love.

 

 

In a recent interview Miller says just that. They ask him if Marvel should pay him for creating Elektra, to which he responds:

“I’m not running for president. I don’t want to be one of those cranky old guys grinding an ax, wishing I got paid better. I’ve done my best to pave the way for artists in the future to be treated better than I have. And that’s all I can do. Beyond that, I’d be pissing and moaning about things I have no control over. I’ve signed every contract that I’ve signed and agreed to the working conditions that I’ve worked in. And I’m not going to whine about this. I make a good living.”

Why else? Miller is soft spoken, but extremely intense. Which are two combinations, I can completely relate to. Being a fairly intense person myself, I can understand the need to really work hard on something that you love. My stories are no different. You have to know the balance between your own bias, and what the public will want to read. Sometimes, it gets rough. But Miller has proven that you can walk that balance by putting your own style and touch to something others can relate to.

To date, I’ve yet to find a Batman that really speaks to me like Frank Miller’s version. He’s real, he’s raw and gritty─ and he cares. Though it has it’s interesting moments, the earlier versions of a more jovial Batman from the 1940s-1970’s just never spoke to me. He [Bruce Wayne] had been through a lot, and watched it all. This would profoundly affect a person and how they behave. Having been through many tragedies of my own in life, I can testify that you can go one way or the other with all the bad things that happen that you can’t control.

In the recent interview in March, just before the release of Batman vs. Superman on the 25th, Miller spoke about how he drew from the Dark Knight returns and what inspired him with the original gritty character. He explained that he knew what it was like, losing control and being mugged─ having a gun waved in his face. He had been involved in a few muggings in Manhattan. It made him angry, and that anger transferred to the Dark Knight.

One of my favorite quotes, was one in Holy Terror, Batman! that sounds suspiciously like Miller’s inner monologue:

“All my life there’s been something wrong. Something missing. A sense that everything I’m seeing all around me isn’t entirely true. That this seemingly ordered world of laws and logic and reason is nothing but a shroud, a chimera. A mask. But every once in a long while, the mask falls away. Every once in a long while, the whole world makes perfect sense. The world reveals itself. I am at peace. And at war.”

Like this? Stay tuned for my next show covering Manga creator and horror grand-master, Junji Ito. His haunting imagery and wickedly crafted tales will keep you awake for hours.

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