The Foreign Voice at Immsmore (not the actual name
Replies
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
The Doctor
pax
Quote
The world was blanketed in white, and shimmering crystals fell from the sky, muting every sound in the sleepy little town. Immsmore, a town of two hundred; measured a strange place by even the most eccentric observer. During the summer, they seemed common enough, and their overlook of the old forest drew a fair few traveler. But most knew not to judge them by the three seasons; for with the first snow came the peculiarities.
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Pax. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Pax. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
The irony is, the House of Pax has actually, in itself, become an inn for the weary traveler. With its original owner having deserted the town to pursue his dream of "living around the world," leaving the title of the land to a young, crippled woman, this caretaker always lived here alone, and she could quite use some company.
She opened the door curiously; she was not the kind who assumed ill of any stranger.
"Are you alright? You seem to need a place to stay..."
Thank you very much for the message, anon! Pardon if you did not want me to respond in that way; I love the little story you have sent, and I can't wait to see what happens next! Poor thing, I hope someone gives him/her a shelter for the winter! D8
[font=Georgia]first, do no harm.
forumset art by .[/font]
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
far
is a gold digger
Fartsie
I got one too :)
[font=arial]But you don't belong to the shadows[/font]
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Nova
is made of stardust
Got this too. Love the words and story. Hope there is more. I yearn for more.
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
illusion_834
is a survivor
Quote
The world was blanketed in white, and shimmering crystals fell from the sky, muting every sound in the sleepy little town. Immsmore, a town of two hundred; measured a strange place by even the most eccentric observer. During the summer, they seemed common enough, and their overlook of the old forest drew a fair few traveler. But most knew not to judge them by the three seasons; for with the first snow came the peculiarities.
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Illusion. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Illusion. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
She had never quit believed the stories.Every year she was holed up tight with her family inside their home and never saw a thing. Seeing is believing, she told herself. The knock at the door made her jump. "Please..."
Okay, maybe it's time to face her fears.
Not without a little protection, of course.
As she grabbed a knife from the counter, she cautiously opened the door slightly, peeking out from the edge.
Thank you anon! I loved the whole story. So creative.
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
magistrix
is a SUPER USER!!!
I never get awesome anons like this. :( -jealous-
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Krystal
is a SUPER USER!!!
Quote
The world was blanketed in white, and shimmering crystals fell from the sky, muting every sound in the sleepy little town. Immsmore, a town of two hundred; measured a strange place by even the most eccentric observer. During the summer, they seemed common enough, and their overlook of the old forest drew a fair few traveler. But most knew not to judge them by the three seasons; for with the first snow came the peculiarities.
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Krystal. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
[flower=Krystal]
My Wishlist
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
hermes
is a Morostide warrior
Fenarel
i've been gifted this story as well! thank you, anon :)
:dmg:light:
:dmg🔥
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Skolletta
Sir Quest-a-Lot
Wow anon, this was a fantastic read! Thank you for including me. ❤ itches to open the door Well, why not! If I die in the process I'll at least die for a worthy cause.
:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧
🔭🐢
🔭🐢
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
PEG
made a huge mistake
Uki
Oh my goodness, I hope somebody opens a door for the voice. D: Unless it's one of... them. Hope the next part is sent out soon!
[font=monospace]⟡˙⋆ o, frigid fortune! ⋆˙⟡[/font]
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
magistrix
is a SUPER USER!!!
Quote
The world was blanketed in white, and shimmering crystals fell from the sky, muting every sound in the sleepy little town. Immsmore, a town of two hundred; measured a strange place by even the most eccentric observer. During the summer, they seemed common enough, and their overlook of the old forest drew a fair few traveler. But most knew not to judge them by the three seasons; for with the first snow came the peculiarities.
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Katrasyn. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Katrasyn. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
Within the house, Katrasyn shivered. It was her first winter in her own home, and though the warnings of her parents were strong in her ears, pity smothered the instinct to hide. The young woman crept towards the door, her heart pounding in her chest as she eased it open just a crack.
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Damon
is a demon
Evee
Message
Quote
The world was blanketed in white, and shimmering crystals fell from the sky, muting every sound in the sleepy little town. Immsmore, a town of two hundred; measured a strange place by even the most eccentric observer. During the summer, they seemed common enough, and their overlook of the old forest drew a fair few traveler. But most knew not to judge them by the three seasons; for with the first snow came the peculiarities.
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Virus. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Virus. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
Ah wow ;-; amazing! Thank you!
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Malevolent
is full of holiday cheer
Quote
The world was blanketed in white, and shimmering crystals fell from the sky, muting every sound in the sleepy little town. Immsmore, a town of two hundred; measured a strange place by even the most eccentric observer. During the summer, they seemed common enough, and their overlook of the old forest drew a fair few traveler. But most knew not to judge them by the three seasons; for with the first snow came the peculiarities.
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Malevolent. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Malevolent. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
With wary eye and set jaw, Malevolent glances a few times toward the door. Was it one of them? Was it playing a trick? At first, he was unable to decide, but as the voice trailed off, and so softly pleaded, he was unable to stand it any longer. More than likely, this was folly, but he could not help it. Unable to leave the voice out at night, he opened the door.
Side forum art by
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Muerte
loves wieners
Forevermore
Quote
The world was blanketed in white, and shimmering crystals fell from the sky, muting every sound in the sleepy little town. Immsmore, a town of two hundred; measured a strange place by even the most eccentric observer. During the summer, they seemed common enough, and their overlook of the old forest drew a fair few traveler. But most knew not to judge them by the three seasons; for with the first snow came the peculiarities.
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Muerte. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Muerte. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Mythology
loves wieners
Mingyu
I got one of these too! So curious to see what happens~!
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Rox
wants to believe
Syrra
Quote
The world was blanketed in white, and shimmering crystals fell from the sky, muting every sound in the sleepy little town. Immsmore, a town of two hundred; measured a strange place by even the most eccentric observer. During the summer, they seemed common enough, and their overlook of the old forest drew a fair few traveler. But most knew not to judge them by the three seasons; for with the first snow came the peculiarities.
As the sun retreated to the western sky, the townsfolk hastened to complete their daily tasks. Even the children did not delight in the snow, but rather turned to the sky with a look of despair. The carts in the market place were quickly folded up and tucked to the side, and all of the shopkeepers finalized what business they had. Soon, there was a rush of movement as everyone made straight for their homes.
Before the last ray of sun, the citizens shut up their doors and windows tight, fretful of the darkness that came with the night.
Soon it was difficult to tell if anyone was living in the town at all. Virgin snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and not a sound could be heard. Save for the smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of tomorrow&;s bread, Immsmore seemed abandoned.
And then, the sacred silence was disrupted, though not all at once. At first, it was too faint to hear; the sound of snow crunching over rapid footfalls. The sound of heavy breaths that whispered steam against the chill. But soon, the visitor made themselves known.
"Help! Please!" A shrill voice reverberated off of stone and snow. "Someone, please!" The voice grew louder as it drew closer to the town. But the townsfolk did nothing. Instead, they huddled amongst themselves tighter still, and prayed for the foreign voice to pass, and pass quickly.
"Please, let me in!" The voice first visited the blacksmith. Frantically, it banged on the smithy&;s door. Snow slid from the edge of the roof, but no one responded, no matter how hard the voice knocked.
The voice moved with mad haste. It drew closer to the town square, and banged at every door it could find. "Let me in! Please!" The voice choked back a sob.
But no one answered. They were fearful that it was one of them. That it was another trick that would cost them their lives. So they ignored the voice as best they could and ignored the tugging at their chest. It sounded so sincere... but they always did.
At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Rox. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
Don't know who gifted this to me, but thank you ❤
I would definitely open the door for the stranger, I'm way to curious to see what will happen
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Pirate
has been EXTERMINATED
Spite
I got one of these, too and enjoyed the story a lot - I hope it continues and yes, I'd dare to open the door; I'm Morpheus after all so I'm capable to defend myself. ^_~
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Kushiel
is magical
Hakim
Got the story too. I'd love to see how it will continue and I'd open the door too :) I'm Kushiel, the Punishing Angel would know how to defend himself, yes?^^
My Toyhou.se I am always in need of art.
| My deviantart
[TOT=Kushiel]
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Adventure Captain
Day
....At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Day. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
'What was that?' Day said, slightly shocked, as she heard a faint voice calling out for help. For a moment she did not know what to do. But, after a quick, but careful consideration, she decided to open the door, to look whom it was that needed her help. Of course, she had heard the stories about the voices, but she never did understand why everyone was so afraid. Still, her heart started pounding faster, and her breathing quickened as she approached the door. With one hand on the doorknob and the other shaking slightly, she opened the door.
Thank you anon, this is an amazing story! And so well written, too! I hope it continues, can't wait to see what happens :)
Dec 21, 2013
12 years ago
Alleycat
is forever alone
...At last, the voice arrived to the final house; the house of Alleycat. There it rapped thrice with enough fervor to rattle the whole door. "Please," the voice was fainter than before, and could barely be heard at all. "...please."
Having just recently arrived at this village, Alleycat spent most of her time rummaging through the villagers garbage cans. ( a most satisfying experience). She got to know alot about each of the families by researching their discards. Alley is ,after all, going for her major in Garbitology! Thus, she knew they were a frugal and conservative lot. politically correct way of saying ( cheap & chickens@%t) Because the conservative villagers were all locked in their houses at dusk, Alley had never met any of them. Nocturnal does have a few drawbacks :( So the opportunity to meet someone, anyone, anything? new was a curiosity Alley could not resist! As Alley raced for the door, mreowing "I shall still have 8 lives left", she flung it open............
Thank you ANON, I love the story. Curiosity alone is killing the cat waiting for the continuation :)
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