The World Within Our Own, we will shatter all you thought you knew~ Options

[FarmerChic]

This will be a fiction story made up by me and Katie, plus anyone else who we accept. It will involve the paranormal, I.E., apparitions, extra terrestrials, and those things that you just cant explain. It will begin shortly. If you want to join, PM me or Katie a paragraph that you think will scare us out of our pants. :B (Or, you know, just write a really good paragraph that involves something scary :D)
Thank you. :]
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We LOVE to hear feedback. Well, I do anyways. Comment as much as you like! :D

Story 1 -- Seeing Is Believing

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A young girl and her family of 3 moves to a small ghost town. The girl, Kember witnesses strange events happening in her new house. Is there something wrong with her? Or does the house have a dark history, waiting to be uncovered?

[Katie]

Double Post because I'm naughty. Or, because I'm starting our first tale, one of children's fables that are taken too far. Sit back and enjoy as Farmerchic and I recite for you the tale of a little Texas girl that comes face-to-face with fear itself.

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Seeing Is Believing.
By Katie & Farmerchic.

Part 1: Homesick.

Kember didn't know if she missed her old house or was simply sick of home. Or whatever kind of home you cared to call Kember's family of four. This consisted of herself and her two older siblings, twin girls–Tori & Kyra–and their dead-beat mother who'd had more tastes of sangria than Jack Daniels himself. Even now, in the right hand of that middle-aged woman was a scuffed can of beer, hot in the late summer swell of Tornado Alley. Her other hand was gripped around the leather steering wheel of the family Suburban, one of the more pricier investments she had ever chosen to make, financial wise, that is.

In the backseat, Kember looked out through the dust-covered window, blinking as almost Martian landscapes whipped by as they barreled down the Texas highway. Tori twisted in her front seat to chatter with Kyra about whatever fifteen year olds did, cackling and making faces at one another. At least they're to themselves, for once. Kember thought this to herself miserably, solemnly glad they weren't turned on her, finding amusement in bullying and teasing her.

Their mother swerved to right herself on the road, singing to some old Hank Williams Jr. song on the radio in her dying-cat howl of a voice. The vehicle rocked as her hand slid drunkenly from 12 o' clock to nine to four on the wheel, as if taking pleasure in jumping all about the road. Luckily, no other cars were in sight of them, only the occasional eighteen wheeler droning past them and stirring up dust clouds that would sift through the cracked windows of the car. Sighing through her button nose with a cringe, Kember looked down from her window into her lap where a hard-cover book lay sadly, unopened.

The girl flipped a few pages, then shut its cover again, knowing quite well her mother had just thrown the book at her, screeching something about learning to read before she made her learn. She could read just fine, but she doubted that Charles Dickens' Great Expectations would make a lick of sense. And so, her eyes glittered up at the dry, barren land all around, blinking away images of her old home and little friends.

But all that was gone now––now they were headed to Texas, and they weren't inclined in turning back to go home. Home was where their father was, whoever he actually was, since their mother always seemed to go and meet him just to come back with a bruise or worse on her arms or face. The girls had never seen hide nor hair of the man and now doubted they ever would. But the car heaved a groan as the mother pulled a sharp turn off the highway, onto a thin road that was unmarked by signs or paint. Kember mentally groaned, thinking something about how they had gone from some slums in suburbia to the most rural place on Earth.

And yet, as the rocking Suburban pulled into another back road towards rows of littered farmhouses and ranches, all with broken windows and half-open doors hanging on rotten hinges, Kember couldn't help but feel… uneasy. Sick. But her sisters didn't seem to care–instead, they howled and cat-called, ready for their new home, to start something new in this dust bowl. Her mother cawed louder at the radio, cursing at the announcer to shut his big mouth and play more music, sucking at the lip of her can, barely watching the road. Looking in the rearview, she grumbled loudly for us to shut up, that all the noise was giving her a migraine.

I doubt it's the talking; your BAC is probably a noteable cause. Kember rolled her eyes and sunk into her seat, seatbelt itching her neck uncomfortably. Her eyes stuck to the headrest of Tori's seat, suddenly not wanting to watch the houses pass. For some odd reason, they unsettled her, and as the car slowed to turn into a dirt-covered drive at the end of the road, Kember felt even more sick now that they'd arrived home.

_{*Banner by FC! :]}