“Veins of crimson blotched out the all familiar blue ceiling. Everybody rushed out of their classrooms, crowding in front of the clear rows of windows staring at the anomaly. I wasn’t any different. I remember knocking down chairs from my excitement. Sprinting to the front of the windows, as if being the first person seeing that wretched scene would be an honour. Everybody’s mood swirled like unseen currents hidden by a plethora of surfaces. Excitement, curiosity, despair. But anxiousness was the one thing everybody had in common. I remember it was really loud then. Indistinct chatter and the sounds of thundering footsteps against the aging hardwood filled the narrow pass. I looked up again. My face a clear reflection on that window’s surface. Fear laced my pupils. Worry scrunched a valley on my forehead. Cheeks trembled as that monstrosity descended from the heavens. That scene is forever etched in my memory. That was the beginning. That was the end. That was the death of Emilia. That was the birth of Zara.”

- Zara’s Diary “Day 0” -

“A mexican magician tells the audience that he will disappear on the count of three. He says Uno, Dos, and “poof”. He disappears without a tres. Hahahahahahah……hahahaha…..haha…ha. That one’s still funny. I got another one, what do you call a snobbish convict going down the stairs? A condescending con descending. Hahahahahahahaha. Wait, why aren’t you guys laughing?”

“Goddammit Lazar. Focus.” Said the green hair Caucasian. His sword stabbing the heart of a Lizardman.

“You tell jokes after we kill monster” replied the Asian with the small phallic tool. Don’t ask me how I know that.

“You’re not actually that funny though” said the bucktoothed bimbo.  

“Guys, relax. The half lion-alligator thingy is still sleeping. After we get thro……”

“Roarrrrrrrrr”

“Shit that thing woke up. Remind me why we’re doing this again?” She asked again. Women and their memories.

“Well, bucktoothed bimbo…”

“What did you just call me?” she roared. Her face a visible furnace at my ingenious nickname. I would agitate her more but maybe after we kill that thing.

“Well Zara, I believe that if life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade... And try to find somebody whose life has given them vodka, and have a party and that’s how we got here. I got the lemonade. Jayden (Asian guy) has the vodka. Will (Caucasian) is the stand in driver coz he doesn’t drink and last but certainly the least, you, the bucktooth bimbo”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“You’re dead” her eyes staring daggers at me right now. Hahahahahaha.

“Aren’t we all”

- Tales of The Laughing Demon, chapter 38.

“I sprinted through the familiar alleys. My creaking joints reminding me that they’re not used to this abuse. At that point in time, I didn’t care. Joshua was alone in the house and the red sky was worrying me. Right. Left. 100m. left. Left. After utilising every shortcut I knew, I finally made it to the front of my house. My sweaty palms clutching my knees trying its best to support my bent body. My chest rigorously panting. A thick layer of sweat formed between my skin and clothes. I staggered into my courtyard and that’s when my nightmare started. “Prushhh” (My best attempt at describing breaking glass). The sound of breaking glass entered my ears. I gathered the last vestiges of my energy and rushed into the house. I went through the door and rushed to the living room. Joshua laid there silently on our carpet. His eyes a lifeless dull. His face frozen in curiosity as though he was pondering something. On his chest was this black aberration. It looked like a small black imp the size of a human head. Its body riddled with small scales. Its bald head had two pointy ears. Its large rotting yellow canines was undermined by those small beady white pupils in red irises. Three claws jutted out of its palms and feet. Its small dainty claws gnawing at my brother’s chest and stomach. His ribcage was pried open. The whiteness of bone stood out in the sea of flesh and blood. Its rotting teeth chewing Joshua’s innards. The smell of a butcher shop assaulted my nose and that’s all I remember. When I came through I was lying in a black pool of viscous liquid. Vague recollections of what I did lingered in my mind. The smell of flesh and tar was enough to make me vomit but my throat held back the gushing stomach fluids. I couldn’t turn my head. Afraid of losing myself by the sight of my brother reduced to a cadaver. I just laid there. Accompanied by the dirge of sobs and tears.

 - Burnt scroll, writer unknown -