Beta Bush Monsters in Antartica

Recently, three of my Beta Bush Monsters, Dave, Steve and Adam left for Antarctica.

Don’t ask me why. They said something about how a poisonous plant could be made in colder climates. I think they wanted to see snow, though. And polar bears. Do polar bears exist in Antarctica?

Anyway, I got the news yesterday, that Dave succumbed to frostbite.

A minute of silence for my Beta Bush Monster, and for Steve and Adam who learnt the pain of loss.

A silver lining is that Steve and Adam has realised that even their monster lives are too short to be wasted. I think they’re planning a June wedding.

Good for you, guys.

And Dave . . . You will be missed.

The Daily Life of High School Seniors

I admit, I have been entertaining thoughts of deleting this blog and never ever thinking about what I posted here. But . . . I wanted to rant and I can’t anywhere else otherwise my friends are going to shoot me.

This is going to be long, people. Sit down and try to keep up.

Note: The title is self-explanatory.

There was a thing about my friend N, which A, her friend told H, his friend.

H mentioned it to his girlfriend, M.

M (conspiratorially) told Z.

Z consulted S.

Z and S (hesitantly) told N.

I listened.

With me?

N was upset.

Z and S cornered NA.

We think NA told MA and they told A. (remember him?)

A told H. 

Still reading?

H discussed it with is girlfriend (same one), M.

M cornered Z.

M may or may not have insulted S.

S wasn’t sure. She was offended nonetheless.

I listened.

[On a different note, O doesn’t care and SH is clueless.]

Now, Z and S may just threaten NA.

Who may just seek refuge in MA,

They may just consult A.

A may just rant in front of H.

H may just ask M’s opinion.

Here? Wait . . . don’t leave yet!

You may have guessed what I will do.

I’ll listen.

And probably make plans to tie them to chairs, lock them in a room, and threaten them unless they talk.

Confused? I know I am.

Just for the sake of the one’s who skipped this after two lines, here’s a quick diagram I made.

Nah, just kidding. Too much work.

But . . . pi charts are easy, so here you go.


Ten things I learned the hard way:

Yeah, DEFINITELY don’t bring your weed when you turn yourself in to the police.

Plays Well With Words

Last week I enjoyed some time in a mental institution. I know, I know, anyone who reads this blog could have told me I was crazy, but I guess I needed professional confirmation. Anyway, here’s a few lessons I’ve learned the hard way:

1. Don’t bring your weed when you turn yourself in to the police.


2. Wearing a “I want to die, ask me why” shirt to the loony bin won’t score you any sanity points.


3. Being desperate for alone time can make even a trip to the psych ward calming.


4. The ability to go outside when you want to is a luxury not to be taken for granted.

images (1)

5. Spending hours on end with a small group of like-minded individuals is wonderful for forming great friendships.


6. Some non-profits have to use tarps and duct tape as a pillow (no wonder we all were nuts).

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The key

Imagine giving your key to everyone. Imagine having the everyone’s key.
<This could be made into a short film.

Plays Well With Words

I sometimes want a look inside the deeper world I know you hide. But your mind is locked and you hoard the key. I can only see what you let me see.

So I’ll skim the surface waiting for, the day you decide to open the door.

If that day never comes to be, remember it was you who held the key.

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Never Kill a Spider Just After Watching ‘The Mist’

I killed a spider today and it was the most terrifying thing I have ever done. Not because I killed it or because I went close to it, but because I’m afraid it was the smallest of babies of a sub-species of giant man-eating spiders yet undiscovered which will now come to avenge their young and tear off limb by limb and cackle as they chomp down on my bones.




I may have been watching too much of horror movies.


The Forbidden Word – Guest Post


12 years ago a zombie, in my mind, was a cartoon character whose favourite food is brains.
Then my Mum decided that it would be a good idea to let me watch Resident Evil at a very young age.

Zombies, in my mind, became a terrifying possibility.

The prompt for this post was, “What would be the creepiest thing that could happen to you?” At 17 years old I am ashamed to say that my answer is a zombie apocalypse. Or even a zombie encounter.

For years the word would send shivers down my spine. Zombies would wander through my mind every minute of every night. During the day I would look around, no matter where I was, to ensure a weapon was on hand to defend myself in the event of a zombie appearing.

I stopped watching zombie movies which diluted the fear a little. It would only make an appearance if someone happened to mention a zombie at any point. My body would shrug at the mention but my mind would lock it away to remind me of at night.

Recently, my fear has changed once again. I have slowly started introducing zombies into my life once again. I watched “World War Z” and thought I was safe. Yet, sure enough, two weeks later my zombie nightmares filled my mind night after night.

This fear has its claws in deep. I should be okay if I give Resident Evil a wide breadth!
NOTE: Amy is a 17 year old who works full time in an office from 9 until 5. She is also trying to gain another administration qualification. Her hobbies include reading, acting, learning, volunteering and writing. In her spare time she writes whenever she can and runs a blog.

They Broke Me

I contorted my body into odd shapes for yoga, competed in 50 m sprint, 100 m shuttle run, 600 m run, failed hilariously in high jump and sit ups without prior training or practice, all for the sake of getting twenty measly marks for my Physical Education terminal test.

I strained my stomach muscles and probably bruised my ribs.

I can’t talk, I can’t laugh, I can’t move sideways, can’t straighten mt spine, can’t eat.


*murderous tendencies coming out to play*

What are they so happy about? -_-
What are they so happy about? -_-

Just To Say I’m Not Dead

As much as I want to update this blog as regularly as possible, I have been unable to do so because zombies and the purple monster under my bed keep killing me.

If you didn’t know already, it’s a tedious business coming back from the dead. I mean, the paperwork! First, there’s a twenty page long form to describe how you died and why you want to go back to ‘The Land of the Living’. Also, the office is run by old sods who don’t know what a blog is . . . or apartments . . . or females who can actually go out . . .

As I said, tedious.

Back to the point though, I haven’t been able to update this blog regularly. This year thought, I am trying to make an actual commitment and write stuff beforehand so I can just type up and publish it without fuss (much). It may take time, cuz my end of year exams end in the last week of February and I haven’t studied a bit, and the whole book(s) are coming for each damned subject and I HAVEN’T STUDIED ANYTHING and oh shit, I’ll fail this year and repeat the year with my juniurs who are going to mock and ostracise me and I’m going to be forever alone. *breathes into a paper bag*

Aaaanyway. *clears throat* I have been making art tutorials–from hand grips, to different types of shading and colouring, to drawing implements–so if anyone is on the lookout for some kind of help on any kind of topic based on anything art related, I’ll do me best to write a post on it or refer you to someone else. The tutorials will be published from March onwards weekly (2-3 every Thursday possibly).

Thank you, and have a nice day/evening/afternoon/dusk/dawn/you get the gist.


Is that a zombie with a meat cleaver coming towards me?



Time For Some Creepy (Not For the Weak-Hearted)

So both my friend, Drishti, and I are huge fans of horror stories/movies which makes you dive under the blankets, curl into a foetal position and wail about how our lives have been destroyed and we will never look at cameras/fog/the sun/insert anything you want here ever again. Kind of makes you wonder why we even read or watch horror, huh?

Oh, hello there. You don't see her? What!? LIAR!!!
Do you see her? You don’t see her? What!?  YOU LIAR!!!
This is a scene from Harry Potter. ANd my relatives say it's for little kiddies.
This is a scene from Harry Potter. ANd my relatives say it’s for little kiddies.

Since our discussions occasionally centre around topics like Creepypasta and disturbing takes on kid’s stories or nursery rhymes, it was perhaps inevitable that we would start creating our own horror.

So without further ado, and with the intention of turning our readers into a paranoid mess of freaked out mental patients providing enjoyment to our readers, we present to you a compilation of all our horror!

[WARNINGS for gore and suicide (so there may be triggers. I don’t know…)]

Drishti’s two-line stories:-

BIRTHDAY: My mom called me up and wished me a happy birthday in her sweet, mellow voice. I cut the line immediately; my mom has been dead for seven years.

PICTURE: Her pretty eyes stared at me, smiling, as I held the picture of her lovingly.

Her eyes then shifted to look at something behind me.

NO GHOSTS: “There are no ghosts in the house,” I told my daughter as I opened the door of her storage room to give her assurance.

The corpse of my dead mother stared back at me.

PROM NIGHT: I really wished I could go to the prom with the guy I had a crush on.

I turned pale as I saw the corpse of my crush in a tattered tuxedo and a bouquet of withering roses in is pale hands outside my door.

DADDY: My dad always slept next to me for as long as I can remember.

My mom told me that my dad dies a few days after I was born.

(NO TITLE): As I sat sobbing softly in my living room, my wife wiped the tears of my face from behind me.

I don’t know what was scarier–the fact that she was buried the day before, or that she was in her wedding dress.

My two-liners/the mentioned disturbing takes on poems:

BIRTHDAY#2: My mother calls me every year on my birthday and she always says she’s arranging a reunion.

I cry every time because she died when I was born.

FLYING: I used to stare at the sky and wonder what it was like to fly. I finally understood just a moment before the rope snapped my neck.


 Mary had a little lamb,

It’s fleece as white as snow.

And everywhere Mary went,

The lamb was sure to go.

It followed her to school one day,

Which was against the rules.

And so the children carved into the lamb,

And devoured the poor thing raw.


Johnny was a sweet little child,

But the love he got was mild.

Johnny was an angry little child,

And the bodies of mates he piled.

There are several great writers on the internet addicted to writing and publishing horror stories, most of which can be found on creepypasta or referred to from there. The following list has stories which I found on that site, or have been referred to by someone.

Psychosis. A brilliant portrayal of madness, and how it helps in its own way. Seriously, go read this now. [Warning: You will be tempted to lock yourself in a bare room. And then stab your eyes out with your fingers. I suggest you don’t though.]

Cave Children. This one is long, though gratifying. Teaches you to be wary of new things. [Warning: Capable of inducing hyperventilation.]

The Spirit Child. Okay, read this if you are absolutely sure that your brain will not explode. Do not take this warning lightly. That said, it is actually a Sherlock (BBC) fanfiction, though it contains no *ahem* explicit stuff. The names can be easily changed and some lines tweaked to make it an original fiction. You do not need to have prior knowledge of the show but it will probably distort your views of the characters if you decide to watch it.

No End House. Never ever EVER go on haunted house dares. At the end of this story, you will learn why. Also, you may be laughing hysterically.

And that’s the list. For now. Happy reading!

Turn around, and look UP. [Photo credit: Science of Goosts]
Stare at this photo, then when you get it, turn around and say, “Hello” . [Photo credit: Science of Ghosts]

Psst: I need to know if any of you died in the middle of this post of a heart attack but are still reading this.

A/N: You can address either Drishti or me in the comments to tell us how much we may have freaked you out. Constructive criticism is highly appreciated. Compliments and/or crying over the ficlets will make me flail happily. I do not know about Drishti, but I suspect she will do some flailing of her own too.

Quick Quack#11

Lion cubs who have just started noticing their claws are cute. They are at that stage between needing their mother and eating you.


Oh my gosh, just look at that FACE. *melts into a gooey puddle*

So now you know I’m one of those weirdos who would rather adopt tigers and then train them to kill fellow humans for sport than a small puppy. Wait . . . You didn’t?!

Ah, well.

Depression really sucks.

The writer sums up depression really beautifully: “I really wish that saying “I’m depressed” was akin to saying, “Excuse me, but it appears I’m trapped in a swampy pond right now, and I’m having a hard time climbing to the surface. Is there any chance you would mind helping me out? Thank you ever so kindly.” Because that’s the truth of it. You aren’t weak. You are literally trapped somewhere that you don’t have total control over. Please: know that. Own that. Recognize that. You can’t figure out your escape plan until you know what you’re fighting against.”