Courting

  Dana never understood why everyone around her always seemed to be in a constant state of hurry. They were all in a rush to get nowhere fast - well, most of them, anyway. Some of them probably did have jobs or somewhere to be. Either way, everyone always seemed to be walking so quickly and she never understood why. If you ever saw her in a rush to get somewhere, though, it’s in your best interest to move because she’s probably late for class.

  But it was a beautiful day, and as much as Dana loved her room, she figured she’d go out and walk around, getting small errands done on the way.

  When she heard her name from across the street, she stopped in her tracks and turned, smiling, spotting Marty. ❛ Hey - Marty, slow down. ❜

Her response surprised him, and before he could say anything else she lifted her chin up and met his gaze with those pretty blue eyes, and oh, he was in trouble now, he just was knew it. Somehow, he was able to bounce back.

Ease into it, he told himself. That was the only way to about to doing this. At the same time such a thought process he found to almost be in-genuine, going against the grain, and not in a way that he liked. Sure, yeah, Marty could start off this conversation with sentimental pleasantries. Or he could get straight to the point with no falsehoods, no feigned graces allowed to cloud the air between them.

He could. Then again, he could do a lot of things. And he was a chicken shit through and through.

❝I'd say that those are sound words to live by,❞ Marty drawled, arriving at her side just in the nick of time. A smile pulled his lips upwards by the corners. ❝And just where would the beautimous Dana be off to?❞

Some Like It Spooky

     “It’ll be fine.” Joseph assured the other, his gaze flicking to his companion at his side. If his research had been correct, the hauntings at this place had been rather timid, but one could never be too careful. However, Joseph was not there to uncover some mystic ethereal being. No, he was keen on unveiling the hoax. Ghosts were nothing more than stories.

     “Let’s try the front door—see if they’re expecting any guests.” The joke was dry, yet the corner of the young man’s pulled into a faint smile. At least it was something. 

Of course he would say that. Not like anyone else aside from Marty was ever concerned about the danger in these sorts of situations. Hey, he could be as much of an adrenaline junkie as the next guy, but this — sneaking around in the middle of night, breaking into private property, all for a wild goose chase? Yeah, never been his thing. He'd sooner be satisfied leaning back in his seat and lighting up another joint, dozing in the van.

He didn't shiver, not quite, not yet. But he couldn't deny something feeling way off about this place. Joseph's at ease, and I'm not. 

❝Maybe,❞ he eventually replied back, shoulders lifting and chest expanding as he drew in a lungful of air, readying himself, ❝And that's what I'm afraid of.❞ Swiping his tongue over his lips, a smile sparked his eyes to their familiar sheen of green. And then, an arm was extended, gesturing in the direction of the front door as he prompted, ❝After you, buddy.❞

 Endless List of Movies: Cabin in the Woods

You’ve seen horrible things, an army of nightmare creatures. But they are nothing compared to what came before, what lies below. It’s our task to placate the ancient ones, as it’s yours to be offered up to them. Forgive us and let us get it over with.

Favourite Movies ~ The Cabin in the Woods (2012)

i want to sit on a kitchen counter in my underwear at 3 am with you and talk about the universe

                                                     [  l i s t e n . ]  i. own little world (remorse code remix)  ||  celldweller ii. senioritis  ||  the red jumpsuit apparatus  iii. if i had a heart  ||  fever ray  iv. scarlet   ||  akira yamaoka  v. the devil within (piano ver.)  ||  digital daggers  vi. ascent  ||  cris velasco  vii. devil’s laughter  ||   akira yamaoka  viii. hell arrives  ||  blue stahli   ix. the end of all things  ||  panic! at the disco  x. house of the rising sun  ||  five finger death punch 

One for the Road

  Oh   - now she didn’t want to die, now she couldn’t. Dana had contemplated death a total of three times in her life, thought about the pain she would feel, what she would see when the time finally came, if you really did see your whole life flash before your eyes. She wouldn’t want to see the whole thing, maybe just parts, maybe not even at all. One thing Dana never thought about was when she’d die. She always assumed she’d be old and wrinkly and die a happy, peaceful death. This; bloodied and tired, this was not what she wanted.

  But she had Marty. She knew she wanted to die in the presence of those that she loved, and she loved Marty, she really did. Maybe not in the exact way that he loved her, but she loved him more than words could explain.

  The lack of pain she’d begun to feel was evidence of her demise. Without words and with immense pain, Dana lifted a hand to wipe the tears on Marty’s cheeks away. She had tried to be strong, maybe they could have made it out of this. That woman - the director - she was fool enough for her actions, why couldn’t she be considered for these gods’ offering? Why did it have to be Marty? 

  A sharp breath, perhaps her last, was taken as her hand fell back to her side. Eyelids were becoming even heavier, a chore to keep open. To smile would take too much energy and Dana realized that this is what death felt like. It was dismal and though she had a friend with her, it was lonely. Eyes slowly glance down, the steady stream of blood that had come from her chest was now just a mere trickle, her shirt soaked through and through.

  She’d heard accounts of near-death experiences before; she heard of faces rushing towards people, those that they knew and didn’t, seeing dark demons or light angels roaming in front of you, each beckoning for you to follow them to their respective afterlifes. Dana didn’t see any of that, and maybe it was because she was actually dying. She only had seconds, minutes, maybe, left.

  Her head dropped onto Marty’s shoulder, breathing becoming short and sporadic. Conjuring up as much energy as she could, her voice shook out, ❛ Marty   - ❜ Her eyes closed, the grip she had on Marty’s hand becoming loose.

                                                                   With a final breath, Dana Polk was dead.

The last thing he wanted was for Dana to see that he was crying, but as soon as she touched his face, he knew. Feeling short of air, he reached up to cradle her hand with his. Marty tried without success to pry loose the invisible grip on his lungs. Tears channeled to the surface and poured down his cheeks, an unstoppable current of remorse and despair. Remorse for what he'd done, what had happened to Dana as a result.

There were no fangs or snarls, no wicked claws. No monsters hidden in the cloak of darkness waiting to jump out at them and attack. Just him, and her, against their supposed fates and the rest of the world. In that moment, Marty would gladly be selfish and trade everything and everyone else if it meant her pretty blue eyes would come back to life. He saw the secrets, and he wanted to keep her close; he wanted her to wait out the beginning of the end with him. Nothing less would be acceptable as far as he was concerned.

But when her head dropped heavily to his shoulder, and she leaned her weight fully up against him, he shuddered, eyelids falling closed, as he pressed nearer. Was this what it was, to be alive, at the end of the world? Was this what it meant — to be strong? 

Marty didn't want to acknowledge that she was dying. He didn't want to pay her any attention; not out of a lack of caring, but simply because he cared too damn much. Even so, he slid his arms around her shoulders, tugging her protectively to him, and all the while he thought not for the first time, I love you. I love you so much, and I never told you that. You're all I have. And he was all she had, and he was so sorry for that, sorry for that almost above anything else. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair, and he didn't want Dana to die, he never wanted that.

She deserved better. She deserved far better than him. 

And between them, millimeters only lay, and then his lips were on her forehead. ❝I love you.❞ That was it. The words were out there. They'd clawed their way up his walls, his feelings overcoming him.  But in the space of a breath, in the sound of a whisper, the distance had only further deepened unknowingly, became a cavern at whose edge he stood at all alone. Marty pulled back, flabbergasted, the smooth skin of her forehead unerringly cold, her inert body leaning against him like a leaden weight.

Hurriedly, he lowered her downward onto the floor, feeling a sense of panic, of vertigo; at all he didn't know, at all he couldn't mend. Horror torched everything Marty possessed. 

❝Dana...?❞ Marty whispered, equal parts shocked as he was fearful. There was anger, he felt that too, suddenly, in a great rush. At himself, at the puppeteers, who had fucked them all over for some so-called grand, greater design. ❝Oh...God.❞             

In the distant part of his brain where he had some semblance of function, logic dictated the signs. Her eyes were glassy. Her skin had taken on a sheen of ghost white paleness that was unlike anything or anyone still apart of the living. But, God, fuck, why wasn't he dead too? Why did she have to die first? And now, he couldn't gloss over her suffering, couldn't forget her bloodtstained face. It was right there, but she was gone.

❝Dana, please. Please. No. No, no, no...❞ 

Suddenly, he was more lost than he had ever been. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin and escape, but he couldn't. First, his shoulders trembled. Then tears swam in his vision, and he fell down against her, cheek against her temple. Inside that slow and wearied moment, he choked against a sob, nosing his face against her bangs, as though fatigued. But in reality he was desperate for a semblance of closeness, and a want to shield her from the dust thickening the air.