Somewhere in the world, there is a collection of books. Perhaps it’s in a dusty, unpainted shelf in the back corner of someone’s attic, perhaps it’s in a set of musty boxes in the basement of some tiny, obscure library. It contains a few hundred volumes, all handwritten, ranging from leatherbound volumes with yellowing pages two hundred years old through to modern spiral-bound notebooks. All of them are diaries, some by famous people, some by not-so famous people, but all by the most horrific madmen and murderers the world has ever known. And the collection is growing. For if you ever find it, you will hear a faint scratching sound, coming from the newest volume of the set. This volume will be new, and filled with blank pages, except for the first. On this first page, you will find the beginning of your own diary, written in your own hand.

Only fabulous persons and women keep diaries, and I don’t think you’re a woman.

Wait, I thought this forum WASN’T IC?

The blackest wrath

The Earth shall crumble

Mountains of your skulls shall tumble

Death, decay, destroy forever

Nightmare’s scratching, dream’s I’ll sever

The smoke and fire burn in darkness

The sickle’s swinging, fear its sharpness

Terror sweeps like bats through Hades

Your heart is ticking, Death is waiting

Writhing, wither, snakes shall slither

Through your body as you shiver

Cold and helpless, on my dagger—

—mythology and jerry springer!

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lost_papi_212 was banned for this post by Nicco