"The DEVIL is real"
How to Make Friends with an IntrovertHow to make friends with an introvert.How to Make Friends with an Introvert by Fameisdead
Please know that even though it is quiet.
Even if you don't like it.
Or you might think I am mad,
There's no need to feel bad.
You don't have to fill the silence
With pointless conversations.
Used as space fillers.
Where the words hang ominously in the air,
Expecting a response in return,
Sometimes we yearn
For a person who can enjoy the quiet times.
And know the just because not a single word was shared.
It was not the kind of silence that made you squirm,
But the occupied kind,
That we could share together.
That I can't go for hours
Surrounded by people,
Always having to come up with words for conversation.
I know it sounds silly,
But things like that party
You want to drag me out to.
Wear me out rather quickly.
Not that I don't appreciate your offer,
But it's just something that's sort of a bother
Verbalized words often times fail me.
Maybe that's why I don't do so good socially.
I trip over my tongue,
Where as s
In the Name 44: Dropped City Research CenterIn the Name 4 by DoorTraveler
Seeing two men walk out of a supposedly deserted city can cause anyone to stop and stare, but when one of them is carrying an axe the reaction leans more toward dropping what you are doing and calling for the armed security. The pair were greeted by two men carrying rifles, and a woman in a biohazard suit.
“Who are you?” the woman demanded.
“We were passengers on the bus to Fifth City. Unfortunately we were attacked by something and pulled down into the city while at the rest stop,” Allen explained. “We saw your elevator, and were hoping that you could give us a lift out of here before sunset.”
“You’d have to be quarantined for a few hours until we can run tests.”
Ingel looked at Allen, and then raised his free hand. “Will there be things to do in quarantine?” The woman stared at him and nodded, slightly confused. “Then I don’t mind.” He grinned at Allen, who simply groan
In the Name 33: Dropped CityIn the Name 3 by DoorTraveler
Gravity was the only indication the bus was on its side while groans indicated survivors; amused laughter said one of them was Ingel. Allen was sideways in the driver’s seat, and groped blindly for a way to pull himself upright. Finally: a sigh. “I invoke the name: Wesley, give us light.” Specks of light appeared around the compartment, and Allen managed to get to his feet. “Shut up, Ingel.”
The demon quieted his laughter to chuckling. He was sitting with his back against the seat, as if he hadn’t just fallen down a hole in a bus. He smiled giddily at Allen, ending his laughter as he stood and looked around. His eyes landed on half of Jared—the other half taken by the Sand Drill. “Guess you won’t be needed as a Scribe today.”
“There’s a time and place, Ingel,” Allen reprimanded, taking his own look around. Everyone else was cut up with glass; thanks to a last minute invocation no one was serio
In the Name 22: Dropped City Rest StopIn the Name 2 by DoorTraveler
The road to the city was paved, but looked like it hadn’t been serviced since before the Calamity. It inconvenienced the bus ride with shuttering bumps that rattled the windows and made walking an adventure, concentrating difficult, and sleeping impossible. For all that, at least there were only seven passengers on board.
Wesley and Amanda were the young couple in back. They were going to the city to license a marriage agreement arranged by their parents. A not uncommon phenomenon for the post-Reconstruction generation, and cities were the only governments with the power to license marriages these days. They sat together, holding hands, the girl staring out the window in silence, the boy staring straight ahead with a gaze full of scary possibilities.
A businessman, Thomas by name, sat two rows behind the driver and was returning from meeting a partner company in Second City. He had drawn the short end of the stick at a lottery some six months prior and h
In the Name 11: Grackle’s DinerIn the Name 1 by DoorTraveler
It was a small little diner on the outskirts of town by a road very few people used. Over the years it had been given a homier feel with a few vases here and there, mirrors and pastel paintings on the walls and an old grandfather clock on the far wall by the bathroom hall. Still, it couldn’t escape the diner-charm with its cheap faux-leather cushioned booths and wooden chairs around old linoleum-topped tables, or its arcade nook. Most of the staff described it as a diner masquerading as a bed and breakfast, and poorly at that.
On a rainy day like today it wasn’t uncommon for it to be completely empty, but two travelers had sought shelter from the storm. The first was dressed like any traveler these days: a heavy coat, boots, a travel bag, and a weathered hat. He was an unassuming type, a forgettable but friendly face with brown hair and quiet grey eyes. He could be from anywhere; he could be your next door neighbor. The coat and hat were hung up by