distortion [THE END]

Kiyoko wrote:

RESULTS As you wander the streets, you pick the bell up by the head and fiddle with it briefly as someone else passes by you, just to see what might happen. To your surprise, the bell emits three low notes; ones that appear to resonate within your very soul, apparently unheard by your compatriot in the night. Suddenly, the metal becomes unbearably hot and you let go of the bell. It tumbles to the sidewalk hard, a crack forming up the waist. With that, the bell falls silent once again.

Kiyoko wrote:

You don’t exist, apparently. You wish someone had told you earlier, before you tried to buy this house. Your real estate agent returns your documents with a helpless shrug. She’d run your name and numbers and the only result turned up deceased. Died ten years ago, in fact. And she can’t sell a house to a dead person. “Who do I talk to to fix this?” you ask. “Try contacting a credit reporting company,” she replies. She looks like a stock photo, with her clean suit and detached expression. “I’ll make a few phone calls and see what I can do for you.” Of course, she doesn’t ever make those phone calls. Can’t count on these corporate types to do anything in a timely manner. Not her fault, though. It’s hard enough to contact credit companies when you’re just legally dead. Must be even harder when you’re actually kaput. Sliced to pieces on the local news, actually. It’s not just her expression that’s detached, now. It’s, well, all of her, really. All detached. You know you ought to be horrified. She’s the fifth in a line of grisly murders and the cops don’t have any leads they’re willing to share with the public. Mostly, though? You’re just kind of bummed. You look around your dingy apartment, all cracks through the walls and drink stains in the carpet from the tenant who lived here before you. The ceiling light glows like a cigarette butt, a tiny red spark, just days away from kicking the bucket itself. The TV’s doing a better job of lighting up the room than that old thing. Well, what with your credit issues and all of these killings, doesn’t look like you’ll be moving out of this town any time soon. Maybe you ought to turn that new house money towards different endeavors. Renovate your apartment. Donate to the police. Lord knows the cops could use the help. Just, darn, you know? You’d really been looking forward to that move.

TOWN As you don’t legally exist, you have a 10% chance to avoid any actions and kills at night.

high seraph wrote:omg tiki's post is so inspiring............ its filling me with.... DETERMINATION!!!!!!!!!

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Tiki The Troll wrote:ONE MORE PAGETOP EDIT TO BRING EVERYONE TOGETHER

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drandahl wrote:Angel, I know I wasn't here for you when I was alive, but I'm here for you now.

I know we both loved my brother... and while I didn't approve of you as his fiancée at first...

..I see now I was too protective. It's hard to admit.

I've found myself in the afterlife. Assuming we can remove this threat, the knowledge of my true name will be enough for me to lend you some help during the aftermath. I think I owe you some support. I know you and my brother were close.

Mr. Gerbear wrote:what is the meaning of life