Art By Johan C

Art by Johan C

You’re always there when I need you most.

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

Topaz Winters, from Portrait of My Body as a Crime I'm Still Committing; “High Specific Heat”

[Text ID: “When you smiled, the morning blushed pink / & gold. Violent & tender. Horrifying & warm. / My ache left me behind. I thought: okay. / I could get used to this. / & I did. I got used to you. You became a habit / & god knows I can never get rid of habits. / You, who told me I was worthy. / You, full of ink that tasted like wine—you / translucent & dreaming of flight.”]

Nalfein: i didnt ask how small the room was, i said i cast fireball

@atricksterproblem Now I NEED to ask about the Pit to Hell

So I’m staying at a friend’s house in Boston

And in their guest room is a door.

And my first thought was closet. Just an ordinary, tiny, New England closet.

But no!

There are STAIRS in that closet!

Now where do those stairs go, you may ask?

Up to the black void attic of course.

But you know, it doesn’t seem to end there.

Because for reasons no one seems to know, this door deadbolts from inside. There’s nothing but a black void up there. Why must it lock on that side of it???

Of course, it was then that I spotted something else.

Why yes, those ARE scratch marks on the inside of the door. Which, one might think dog because they’re so low on the door (only a third of the way up).

But you know, this wouldn’t be fun if that was all there was.

That deadbolt has scratches all around it too.

Funzies!

Because guess what.

That deadbolt is five feet off the ground. And there is no dog in this house tall enough to reach it.

Pretty sure I just entered a horror film.