

Montfaucon--ProloguePROLOGUE. Le Tholonet is a small, picturesque village of about two thousand residents, located just outside of Aix-en-Provence in the south of France. Surrounded by sun-kissed vineyards and meandering rivers, Tholonet itself is blessed with the sort of rustic tranquility that hints at promises of lifes simple pleasures. And it is, for the most part, a peaceful and inoffensive town, with one notable exception. Follow the Rue Église all the way down to where it dead ends at the banks of the Arc River, and you will find yourself in a rather curious place known as the Maison Sauvinny. It is the one place in all of ThMontfaucon--Prologue


The Knocking, Chapter IIIFor nearly an hour afterwards, I toiled fruitlessly in an effort to extract my car from its resting place, impossibly entangled in the intertwining vines along the steep and slippery slope. But the nights rain had turned the ground to slop, and pressing the accelerator yielded no effect save that of hurling a filthy spray of thick brown ooze into the profuse vegetation near the bottom of the gulley, my car sinking deeper in to the muck with each failed attempt. I realized that, despite my extreme circumstances, I had no choice but to call a tow truck, for leaving my car at the scene would have surely have aroused unwanted suspicion. &nbThe Knocking, Chapter III


The Knocking, Chapter IIII. As I merged onto the freeway, I began to formulate in my mind a plan that would allow me to rid myself of my gruesome charge. Burial was too uncertain, for what was to prevent some morbidly curious passerby from unearthing my despicable deed and exposing it for all the world to see? Incineration would have been the best, the most complete, but it was too impractical. Only mortuaries and universities furnished such machines, and there was no way I could access either without arousing suspicion. For an instant an image flashed through my mind, an absurd picture of myself shoving the girl through the gaping mouth of an inciThe Knocking, Chapter II


The MigraineIt comes gently at first, Quietly, like a voiceless assassin With his deadly steel blades; Latches leech-like onto my brain, Filling it with writhing tentacle roots That flood my skull with pain And cause my temples to explode With all the rhythmic intensity Of a star pulsating in black space. I stare blindly as sensations fade Back into distant and surreal memories— All is lost and nothing remains, Nothing but the dull and constant pain. The songs of birds and children Become but harsh cacophony, Beating like some merciless drum, Each rippling bloThe Migraine
Devious Comments
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Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. --John Lennon
How's life going for you?
OH guess what! I met Stan Lee! Twice!!
See you in class?
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I will not die, I'll wait here for you/I feel alive, when you're beside me/I will not die, I'll wait here for you/In my time of dying." - Three Days Grace "Time of Dying"
I am Alice Cullen in dA's ~Claimers-Club.
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Mada yume o miteru,
Me o mite, me o mite,
itsu aeru?
every day, every night, omoitsuku kotoba de,
chirakatta mama no kimochi o ima sugu.
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"SOMEONE'S BEING ATTACKED BY A PLATYPUS-BEAR!!" *0*
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Let my words become weapons of distraction,
And burn like moths for their attraction.
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