04 – …—…

I’m…dead?

Had to happen sometime, Spyder.

It wasn’t supposed to happen so-

You were the walking dead, be glad of what time you had.

How do I get you to shut up?

You don’t, I’m the one that keeps you sane.

Do I need sanity after death?

You-

Just let me think, please…Death is being trapped in your own head?

This could be that millisecond before death.

But…there’s supposed to be…like…happy bits…

Nothing else in the world works like its supposed to, and you still expect that?

Still, I don’t know how I feel about being trapped in my own head…

You must be the lucky side of the brain, cause I’m not feeling anything over here…So genius, what are you feeling?

I’m…I feel…I’m not…nothing, I’m feeling nothing. Well, fsck that. I’m angry. I want to be angry, so I’m angry.

There we go, manufactured emotion, just like the old days.

I wanna open my eyes…I’m scared.

You’ve got nothing to be scared of.

Theories. Theories. Theories. Theory one: I’m dead. If that’s the case, I can deal with that later.

Yeah, we’re not exactly going anywhere.

Theory two: I’m in a coma.

Coma is good. We can wake up from a coma.

Theory three: This isn’t me, this is all the data left behind on the net. I left behind more than I had intended. That would be neat, I wonder if I can Google myself. Here we go, here we go…

Goooooooogle!

Did you really expect that to work? I don’t think we’re on the net.

I’d know more if I could hear anything except my own thoughts. And…I’m still scared.

 

  16 comments for “04 – …—…

  1. AL13N
    November 29, 2009 at 1:52 am

    She just HAD to contemplate being “in” the net. 🙂

     
    • Stormy
      November 29, 2009 at 1:52 am

      Of course she did, it’s Stef. ^_^

       
  2. Anonymous
    November 29, 2009 at 1:52 am

    All caught up… now I have to wait for more 🙁

    Excellent story but I have to ask do you mind spelling/grammar/Missing word reports?

     
    • Stormy
      November 29, 2009 at 1:53 am

      …put another chapter up on Friday. 🙂

      And nope, I don’t mind wrong wrong/Stormy-you’re-an-idiot-here’s-a-typo reports, I bow, say thanks and immediately edit. ^_^

       
      • Anonymous
        November 29, 2009 at 1:53 am

        …aaand what would you say to having a beta reader? No? Yes?

        I can help! I want to 🙂

        So… thoughts?

         
        • Stormy
          November 29, 2009 at 1:53 am

          …consider it. 🙂

          Drop me an email at admin (at) wibblypress (dot) net and we’ll talk more.

           
  3. Bufi
    November 29, 2009 at 1:53 am

    “Here we go, here we go… Goooooooogle!” => kinda pictured her like Spiderman trying to shoot the web out of his wrists for the first time in movie 1. Hehe.

     
    • Stormy
      November 29, 2009 at 1:54 am

      Laughing is an excellent way to wake up. ^_^

       
  4. daymon
    November 29, 2009 at 1:54 am

    Trapped in a dark room with Taylor waiting to pounce… probably not.

    I think it would have funny as anything if a google page showed up in the either waiting for a search.

     
    • Stormy
      November 29, 2009 at 1:54 am

      If theory four panned out, she wouldn’t want to wake up. 😛

      (And since when does that man *wait* to pounce? ^_^).

       
      • AL13N
        November 29, 2009 at 1:54 am

        Now my brain is occupied with a pouncing taylor… I liked him better dead(ish)

         
        • Stormy
          November 29, 2009 at 1:54 am

          Oh sigh…

          I don’t think he meant that kind of pouncing!

          …did you?

           
        • AL13N
          November 29, 2009 at 1:55 am

          me and my dirty mind…

           
        • daymon
          November 29, 2009 at 1:55 am

          No I didn’t, more the beat the stuffing out of you. Or scare the crap right out of you for a week.

           
        • Stormy
          November 29, 2009 at 1:55 am

          *calms down*

           
  5. daymon
    November 29, 2009 at 1:56 am

    Maybe he is on meds now, or just wants to hear Stef hit a high note when she screams.

     

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