"Accidentally" HBO leak a couple episodes of a TV show [GOT] to hackers, but give them an alternate version of the finale, in which a critical moment has a completely different outcome. It'd confuse the hell out of the people who watch it illegally
@PensivePost #RandomIdeas
@PensivePost #RandomIdeas
A real crime story (non-fiction) that's almost a gothic fiction!! Read it here
For someone who wants to write, it is a story plot.
@PensivePost
For someone who wants to write, it is a story plot.
@PensivePost
Msn
A teen reunited with her birth mother — who then killed her and burned her body, police say
In an affidavit that reads like gothic fiction, investigators describe how a teen reunited with her birth mother last year on an isolated farm in Missouri — only to be tortured there, forced to crawl through hog pens and have salt rubbed in her wounds, and…
Crossroad Blues
Back home in St Louis, there was this music store called Holman’s. They had just about everything on Heaven and Earth, from pianos to penny-whistles. They even sold records, too, and the very first time I ever heard the blues, it was Bessie Smith’s voice flowing like sweet, cool water out of Holman’s front door. That music meant so much to me that it’s somehow almost a footnote to remember that the sidewalk outside Holman’s, coincidentally, was one of my parents’ many prime fighting spots. Soon as they turned that street corner, every damn time, my mother or father would let out a sharp “So about that…” or “I think you oughta…”, and it’d break out into an unholy shouting match to put the dogs of war to shame. I’d shrink down into the concrete just to avoid catching another burning fist.After a couple of years of this hell, Mister Holman himself gifted me with a guitar, as compensation for my troubles, and I played that thing until my fingers bled. It was my only God and solace.A little later, I started playing my songs wherever people’d listen, but they all just walked on by. Bobby Dixon had tighter rhythm. Art Freeman had smarter lyrics. Lissy Mulligan knew these obscure chords from China.So I went down to the crossroads and begged for salvation. The devil, he’s shorter than you’d think. Thinner, too. But he had those eyes like diamonds and that crooked smile, just like all the stories. He cut me a deal, a sweeter deal than I expected; ”I’ll make you the greatest guitarist on this side of the globe”, he said, his voice as smooth and cold as silk, ”and in twenty years, you can pay me back.” “You want my soul?” I asked. ”That ain’t necessary”, said he… “but we’re having some trouble back where I come from, and I sure could use someone to help look after my pets.”I agreed, of course, and for the next twenty years I lived like a king, cutting records, playing gigs, hooking more than my fair share of adoring fans. But the greatest reward, for me, was finally being able to play the music I pictured in my head, with no damn skill barrier rising in my way. It was like liquid gold trickling from my fingers, raw yet beautiful, every single time.As he does, though, the devil came to collect. I kept my skill, thank God, but in return, I had to take care of his pets. And as a thousand hell-bound souls poured weeping into my head, I only had the chance to ask him how long it would last.”Oh, maybe a hundred years or so. Just ’til we get things straightened out.”I’ve been living with this for almost a decade now, and it hasn’t gotten any less awful.They fight and cry and scream so loud I can barely hear myself play.
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by tilvast
Back home in St Louis, there was this music store called Holman’s. They had just about everything on Heaven and Earth, from pianos to penny-whistles. They even sold records, too, and the very first time I ever heard the blues, it was Bessie Smith’s voice flowing like sweet, cool water out of Holman’s front door. That music meant so much to me that it’s somehow almost a footnote to remember that the sidewalk outside Holman’s, coincidentally, was one of my parents’ many prime fighting spots. Soon as they turned that street corner, every damn time, my mother or father would let out a sharp “So about that…” or “I think you oughta…”, and it’d break out into an unholy shouting match to put the dogs of war to shame. I’d shrink down into the concrete just to avoid catching another burning fist.After a couple of years of this hell, Mister Holman himself gifted me with a guitar, as compensation for my troubles, and I played that thing until my fingers bled. It was my only God and solace.A little later, I started playing my songs wherever people’d listen, but they all just walked on by. Bobby Dixon had tighter rhythm. Art Freeman had smarter lyrics. Lissy Mulligan knew these obscure chords from China.So I went down to the crossroads and begged for salvation. The devil, he’s shorter than you’d think. Thinner, too. But he had those eyes like diamonds and that crooked smile, just like all the stories. He cut me a deal, a sweeter deal than I expected; ”I’ll make you the greatest guitarist on this side of the globe”, he said, his voice as smooth and cold as silk, ”and in twenty years, you can pay me back.” “You want my soul?” I asked. ”That ain’t necessary”, said he… “but we’re having some trouble back where I come from, and I sure could use someone to help look after my pets.”I agreed, of course, and for the next twenty years I lived like a king, cutting records, playing gigs, hooking more than my fair share of adoring fans. But the greatest reward, for me, was finally being able to play the music I pictured in my head, with no damn skill barrier rising in my way. It was like liquid gold trickling from my fingers, raw yet beautiful, every single time.As he does, though, the devil came to collect. I kept my skill, thank God, but in return, I had to take care of his pets. And as a thousand hell-bound souls poured weeping into my head, I only had the chance to ask him how long it would last.”Oh, maybe a hundred years or so. Just ’til we get things straightened out.”I’ve been living with this for almost a decade now, and it hasn’t gotten any less awful.They fight and cry and scream so loud I can barely hear myself play.
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by tilvast
Forwarded from Interrobangs‽
"I'll be seeing my parents soon," she thought as the plane started to descend.
With smoke filling the cabin and the screams of her fellow passengers growing ever more terrified, all she could do was helplessly clutch the urn in her lap and pray it wouldn't hurt too much.
@PensivePost #2lines
With smoke filling the cabin and the screams of her fellow passengers growing ever more terrified, all she could do was helplessly clutch the urn in her lap and pray it wouldn't hurt too much.
@PensivePost #2lines
Night Run
I'm still not sure what happened. Everything feels like...a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.Last night, I went out for one of my weekly night runs. I'm not a marathon runner or anything, but I put in a few miles a couple times a week. Usually I run the same route too. I leave my apartment and head towards a park that is about a mile away. I run a couple laps at the park and then head home. All in all, I run between four and five miles.But something happened the other night that scared the hell out of me. I started my run in typical fashion, leaving my place and running towards the park. I was feeling good, too, working up a nice sweat and keeping a fast pace (at least for me).When I run at the park, I always take the same route. I run along a concrete path on the perimeter of the park and then I head towards a bike path by the river bed. There's a section of the park that is overgrown and wild. There's a dirt trail and some trees. I like to run in their shade before re-connecting with the cement path.So I'm running and I reach this part of the park, when I notice a guy standing at the edge of the trail. He's wearing dirty jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. My intuition kicked into over drive, so I slowed my pace. He wasn't moving. He was still as a scarecrow, just a black silhouette against the setting sun. I figured it was fine so I started running again. That's when I heard it.A shot rang out in the night. A gun shot. It was close enough to make my ears ring. And then I saw it. The figure was pointing a gun at me. He was about thirty feet from me and I could see the faint smoke wafting away from his gun. For a moment I lost all sense of self preservation. I froze. Then another shot. This one grazed the ground by my feet. Then I got it: He was firing at me.I looked down at the dirt that billowed up from the impact shot. My eyes were drawn back to my shooter. He was running at me and I heard another shot. This one barely missed my left arm. Finally my body kicked into reaction mode. I ran. I ran as hard as I could.More shots were fired. The bullets felt close to my skin, zinging past my head and body and legs. I ran until I saw a small dip and I jumped. I fell down the hill and rolled behind some brush. I crouched as low as I could. I held my breath. And prayed.My shooter stopped about ten feet from me. He was looking out into the park, but didn't see me. I prayed he didn't walk down the hill and see me crouching behind the bush. I stared at his face, but I couldn't make out what I was seeing. His face was blurred. There were no features, it was just...blank.He stood there for a few more seconds and then ran in the opposite direction. I didn't wait to see if he'd come back. I crawled along the edge of the park until I saw the path and then I ran. I didn't look back, I just ran as fast as I could home.I got home and locked the door behind me. I sat down at my kitchen table. My pulse racing, my heart beating like a drum. And then I realized something. I hadn't seen another soul the entire run. Weird. I checked the news for anything I could go off of--perhaps a victim or someone spotted my blurry-faced attacker. But there was nothing.I stayed inside and my heart continued to pound in my chest. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I call the cops? Should I tell someone what happened? And I also thought about who this person was. I mean, why was he firing shots at me? What had I done?I headed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I looked in my bathroom mirror and then out the window. And that's when I saw it. He was standing on my front lawn.
@PensivePost #story by worldofleo
I'm still not sure what happened. Everything feels like...a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.Last night, I went out for one of my weekly night runs. I'm not a marathon runner or anything, but I put in a few miles a couple times a week. Usually I run the same route too. I leave my apartment and head towards a park that is about a mile away. I run a couple laps at the park and then head home. All in all, I run between four and five miles.But something happened the other night that scared the hell out of me. I started my run in typical fashion, leaving my place and running towards the park. I was feeling good, too, working up a nice sweat and keeping a fast pace (at least for me).When I run at the park, I always take the same route. I run along a concrete path on the perimeter of the park and then I head towards a bike path by the river bed. There's a section of the park that is overgrown and wild. There's a dirt trail and some trees. I like to run in their shade before re-connecting with the cement path.So I'm running and I reach this part of the park, when I notice a guy standing at the edge of the trail. He's wearing dirty jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. My intuition kicked into over drive, so I slowed my pace. He wasn't moving. He was still as a scarecrow, just a black silhouette against the setting sun. I figured it was fine so I started running again. That's when I heard it.A shot rang out in the night. A gun shot. It was close enough to make my ears ring. And then I saw it. The figure was pointing a gun at me. He was about thirty feet from me and I could see the faint smoke wafting away from his gun. For a moment I lost all sense of self preservation. I froze. Then another shot. This one grazed the ground by my feet. Then I got it: He was firing at me.I looked down at the dirt that billowed up from the impact shot. My eyes were drawn back to my shooter. He was running at me and I heard another shot. This one barely missed my left arm. Finally my body kicked into reaction mode. I ran. I ran as hard as I could.More shots were fired. The bullets felt close to my skin, zinging past my head and body and legs. I ran until I saw a small dip and I jumped. I fell down the hill and rolled behind some brush. I crouched as low as I could. I held my breath. And prayed.My shooter stopped about ten feet from me. He was looking out into the park, but didn't see me. I prayed he didn't walk down the hill and see me crouching behind the bush. I stared at his face, but I couldn't make out what I was seeing. His face was blurred. There were no features, it was just...blank.He stood there for a few more seconds and then ran in the opposite direction. I didn't wait to see if he'd come back. I crawled along the edge of the park until I saw the path and then I ran. I didn't look back, I just ran as fast as I could home.I got home and locked the door behind me. I sat down at my kitchen table. My pulse racing, my heart beating like a drum. And then I realized something. I hadn't seen another soul the entire run. Weird. I checked the news for anything I could go off of--perhaps a victim or someone spotted my blurry-faced attacker. But there was nothing.I stayed inside and my heart continued to pound in my chest. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I call the cops? Should I tell someone what happened? And I also thought about who this person was. I mean, why was he firing shots at me? What had I done?I headed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I looked in my bathroom mirror and then out the window. And that's when I saw it. He was standing on my front lawn.
@PensivePost #story by worldofleo
Virtual Memories
I gaze up at the bright blue sky, the very same sky that held the memories of my fulfilled life. Smiling softly at the slowly changing, yet constant, presence that had watched over me my entire life. I felt glad.Not only was my life long, but it was enjoyable. Watching the clouds slowly drift past, my memories do the same. The happy, the sad, the exciting, everything from as far back as I could recall floated in and out of sight.I feel my body tense and ache as the scenes of graves unfold before me, the pain swells back as the face of my wife seemed to appear in the clouds. I didn’t cry, I didn’t feel like crying even if I could.But I just continued to gaze.Unlike the world around me, the sky was unchanging. Even if the color or shape changed, the sky would always be there to show me memories. From the time I wake to the time I fall back into unconsciousness, the sky would envelop me, showing me, reminding me, what I have experienced.It never occurred to me that one day the sky would just stop.Unlike everyday the sky had faded into a nothingness. Not only was there “nothing” there in a literal sense but also in a more spiritual sense. My memories had stopped flowing, there was no color, I couldn’t sense the life that was present for as long as I had lived.Before I knew it my vision grew blurry and the world around me warped, it was like I left that world.I was in complete darkness.I couldn’t sense a body, but a barely intact mind.As I float in what seems like empty space light suddenly fills my mind as I once again feel a body- a soul.Vision then slowly blurs back into comprehension as the world slowly re-pieces itself through the slightly transparent helmet. Rows upon rows of theatre-like seats face me, reaching much higher than where I was positioned.Noise started to creep back into my mind as applause fills my eardrums.Still dizzy a man walks up in front of me, once in front of me he stops and begins to speak. “Give another round of applause for our brave tester!” he shouts followed by more applause. With each individual sound my head pounds as it tries to make sense of what’s happening.The helmet slowly raises above my head automatically, sending the crowd’s applause more violently into my skull. The man turns back to face me and offers a hand, it seems like hours before I muster the strength to raise mine enough to reach his. He pulls me up and out of the chair, holding my body upright as I face the crowd again shoving their applause through my pounding skull.He raised his adjacent arm to signal a bigger man from offstage somewhere to grab me, and I was swiftly brought backstage as the booming sound of applause faded along with my headache.When asked about my life, all I could answer was my name and a few odd details that seemed to come from nowhere. When asked who I was I responded with a firm “I do not know”. When asked things like “where was I born” or “what was my favourite color” my mind would come up blank.When asked “do you have a question for us?” I answered “does the sky exist?”.
@PensivePost #story by PizzaPopParlour
I gaze up at the bright blue sky, the very same sky that held the memories of my fulfilled life. Smiling softly at the slowly changing, yet constant, presence that had watched over me my entire life. I felt glad.Not only was my life long, but it was enjoyable. Watching the clouds slowly drift past, my memories do the same. The happy, the sad, the exciting, everything from as far back as I could recall floated in and out of sight.I feel my body tense and ache as the scenes of graves unfold before me, the pain swells back as the face of my wife seemed to appear in the clouds. I didn’t cry, I didn’t feel like crying even if I could.But I just continued to gaze.Unlike the world around me, the sky was unchanging. Even if the color or shape changed, the sky would always be there to show me memories. From the time I wake to the time I fall back into unconsciousness, the sky would envelop me, showing me, reminding me, what I have experienced.It never occurred to me that one day the sky would just stop.Unlike everyday the sky had faded into a nothingness. Not only was there “nothing” there in a literal sense but also in a more spiritual sense. My memories had stopped flowing, there was no color, I couldn’t sense the life that was present for as long as I had lived.Before I knew it my vision grew blurry and the world around me warped, it was like I left that world.I was in complete darkness.I couldn’t sense a body, but a barely intact mind.As I float in what seems like empty space light suddenly fills my mind as I once again feel a body- a soul.Vision then slowly blurs back into comprehension as the world slowly re-pieces itself through the slightly transparent helmet. Rows upon rows of theatre-like seats face me, reaching much higher than where I was positioned.Noise started to creep back into my mind as applause fills my eardrums.Still dizzy a man walks up in front of me, once in front of me he stops and begins to speak. “Give another round of applause for our brave tester!” he shouts followed by more applause. With each individual sound my head pounds as it tries to make sense of what’s happening.The helmet slowly raises above my head automatically, sending the crowd’s applause more violently into my skull. The man turns back to face me and offers a hand, it seems like hours before I muster the strength to raise mine enough to reach his. He pulls me up and out of the chair, holding my body upright as I face the crowd again shoving their applause through my pounding skull.He raised his adjacent arm to signal a bigger man from offstage somewhere to grab me, and I was swiftly brought backstage as the booming sound of applause faded along with my headache.When asked about my life, all I could answer was my name and a few odd details that seemed to come from nowhere. When asked who I was I responded with a firm “I do not know”. When asked things like “where was I born” or “what was my favourite color” my mind would come up blank.When asked “do you have a question for us?” I answered “does the sky exist?”.
@PensivePost #story by PizzaPopParlour
Her last cigarette.
Leaned against her car, she breathes in her cigarette smoke. She promised her father to stop smoking, and she will. This one is the last, and she makes sure to enjoy it as much as she can.The toxic smell fills her lungs with each breath, leaving as she sighs softly, lenghtily, following the pace of her heartbeat. The smoke briefly hides the view in front of her, a deserted land with no one in sight. A yellowish light cascades onto her from the sign above her head. She chose this place to smoke, to make it memorable, to give her bad habit a symbolic period.She concentrates on her feelings. The asphalt beneath her feet. The slight heat of the spring night, idling on her skin with not a single bit of wind to take it away. The dark veil that has been obscurring her thoughts for the past seven years, reminiscent of the blackness inside her damaged lungs. The volutes that swirls away toward the starry sky.Is she ready for that ? She wonders. She knew the moment would come.Exhaling her very last puff, she finally lets go of the butt.As it touches the wet ground, the fuel immediately ignites, setting fire to her shoe still maintaining the gas pump open. She welcomes the burning sensation as her brain finally lets go of her dark thoughts, only focusing on her pain.On how good it feels to finally be free.
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by Anariinna
Leaned against her car, she breathes in her cigarette smoke. She promised her father to stop smoking, and she will. This one is the last, and she makes sure to enjoy it as much as she can.The toxic smell fills her lungs with each breath, leaving as she sighs softly, lenghtily, following the pace of her heartbeat. The smoke briefly hides the view in front of her, a deserted land with no one in sight. A yellowish light cascades onto her from the sign above her head. She chose this place to smoke, to make it memorable, to give her bad habit a symbolic period.She concentrates on her feelings. The asphalt beneath her feet. The slight heat of the spring night, idling on her skin with not a single bit of wind to take it away. The dark veil that has been obscurring her thoughts for the past seven years, reminiscent of the blackness inside her damaged lungs. The volutes that swirls away toward the starry sky.Is she ready for that ? She wonders. She knew the moment would come.Exhaling her very last puff, she finally lets go of the butt.As it touches the wet ground, the fuel immediately ignites, setting fire to her shoe still maintaining the gas pump open. She welcomes the burning sensation as her brain finally lets go of her dark thoughts, only focusing on her pain.On how good it feels to finally be free.
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by Anariinna
Forwarded from @GifsMix
This media is not supported in your browser
VIEW IN TELEGRAM
To All of you, Thank You!
@gifsmix
@gifsmix