Creepypasta about Marsey

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It was a disgustingly hot summer night. The air was heavy with humidity which brought out beads of sweat on detective Tommy Thompson's forehead. The sun had just started its decent into twilight filling the sky with a magenta and purple glow but the heat showed no signs of letting up. The smell of sewer water seemed to only have gotten worse under the heat and buzzing of files made it hard for Tommy to focus on the graffiti tag in front of him. It said "I drama" the drawing with the orange and white cat was tagged Marsey the whole thing seemed innocent but the name disturbed him and it seemed dark dead eyes of the cat were hiding something. Tommy then turned towards the gaping hole in front of him. The sewer drainage pipe was a favorite for tweakers and teenagers, and the deeper parts of the sewer contained a homeless camp, "How do they handle the smell?" he thought as he shown his flashlight across the small stream of water leading deeper into the pipe. The smell was already deathly and made Tommy nauseous even though he was barely within the sewer.

Tommy continued to creep foreword and thought of the call which had brought him hear. It was a semi anonymous tip about some suspicious individuals hanging around the drainage pipe. This would have been nothing interesting as the area was a known hotbed of vagrant activity but the caller left a single name, Marsey. The name ran through Tommy's head.

There had been an epidemic of violent suicides for the past few months, which normally would be of no concern to the police department except for the strange pattern in these deaths. All of the people effected were of some degree of public important and a few weeks before the event rumors would be spread which ranged from embarrassing to incriminating, and they came out so fast that it was difficult to tell truth from lie. The strange thing is no one could ever determine a source for the rumors they just seemed to spontaneously appear on social media or in the news as if the information simply willed itself into existence. Its not uncommon for people to crack under such social pressure but the consistency and brutality of the suicides certainly raised eyebrows. The idea of these definitely being suicides was only confirmed when the security cameras of one of the victims caught them disemboweling and hanging themselves. The victim was identified as community trans advocate and anti hate researcher Dr. Oakson who had information leaked that xhe had abused zer spouse. When examining the crime scene Tommy had found a strange note near Oakson's computer which said "Follow the Marsey".

The name seemed random at the time and he wrote it off as some business Mrs. Oakson planned to attend to before her death, but for some reason the name stuck in his brain. When he heard it again on the tip he knew he had to check it out despite how irrational the connection was. Marsey was a common enough name and the person who called in the tip was likely just tagging their own graffiti. Still the connection disturbed him. As he climbed through the sewers Tommy was so lost in thought that he had only now just realized how empty they were. He could see all of the graffiti and homeless nests but there wasn't a single soul in any of them. The whole sewer was deadly silent except for the sound of running sewage. After walking through it enough Tommy finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel where the drainage pipe fed back into the city canals. Tommy was so excited to be out of the sewer that he failed to notice a drop off and plunged into water directly up to his chest. By the time he waded out his phone had already been soaked. No way to call for back up now.

Tommy climbed out into an empty overflow canal and climbed up into a part of the city called cat's corner due to the high amount of stray cats in the area. Strangely the entire area was empty. There was not a single soul in the region, no open shops, and not even any stray animals wandering about. Frick bros I cannot fricking finish this ill just tell you what happens next Tommy would have found a black market clinic with some fraken surgery disasters there would have been a zombie wolf attack and maybe even a super maggot filled platypus. There would have been an empty gay club filled with feces and a dead femboy with head caved in with a poster advertising a marsey world tour concert. Tommy would have found an abandoned train station and traveled to marsey world tour which would have been a sort of crazy cult compound where people were being killed, ground up, and poured into a giant marsey statue which looks like this . The statue would have puked out all the guts on an alter and all the drama cultists would die and the statue would explode. In the ruins Tommy would notice a baby orange and white kitten on the alter and he'd hold it up and an eclipse would happen. I also wanted to add a superhero called the Snoo would also be at Marsey world and get killed but I had trouble thinking of how to properly introduce him.

I wanted to make something based on all the old creeppypastas i read esp one called Sonic.exe round 2 that was like detective sequel to sonic,exe and some other detective creppypastas. and I just couldn't finish it because I couldn't figure out how to put it together so ummm there it is this is my admission to the fan fic content.

!bookworms have you ever written poetry?

I wrote a poem for all drama women but it isn't very good. I'm a bit put out by it. I've been trying to make it better but it's a hard road, especially when I only care about it when I'm drunk. Any poets here have some tips?

!bookworms it has been decided by popular vote that the first Discussion Thread of Faust Part 1, to be held next Sunday will cover until scene III. I'm reading The Remains of the Day so I wont be joining the second bookclub discussion but I'll still post the threads and read your comments.

Hope you guys enjoy it!

Carp panted, bleeding from a dozen wounds, desperate for a second wind that didn't seem to come. He'd thrown all he had against Bardfinn, shattered the Marsey Shield, even lifted Joan's Hammer. But Bardfinn was just too powerful. With the might he'd used all those years ago to beat his wife he'd beaten Aevann, Joan and Carp until only Carp was left standing.

Then the hiss came from behind Carp, and he turned to see the orange glow of a portal opening. And through it came... Masterlawlz? There he was, decked out in full Ben 10 regalia, ready to shame any wandering Wesley fool enough to cross his path.

Another portal opened, only to reveal... Ed Butteredtoast?! They'd all thought him lost forever, but there he was, big as life and ready to emojipost.

Another portal opened, then another, then another. First one troll, then dozens, then finally the entire rdrama army. Idio's wish on the Internet Stones had worked. Everyone's reddit accounts had been unbanned.

Carp rose to his feet, new strength surging through his veins, the will to fight beating once more in his courageous heart. He looked across the field at Bardfinn, whose forehead shone with fury.

Then the skies parted and Bardfinn made his own power felt as the ships of his admin and moderator armies landed, releasing their tanks and war machines. They had ban buttons and block lists like never before. Even with all of their accounts back, could rdrama do it?

Carp looked at the opposing army, gave a snort, gritted his teeth, and uttered two words.

"Marseyvengers, Assemble!"

With Carp at the lead the rdrama army surged across the battlefield, rushing forward to meet the oncoming charge from Bardfinn's dark forces. They crashed in the middle with a great conflagration of n-words and deplatformings. Carp screamed the forbidden word as he gouged out a janny's eye with what remained of his shield, before turning to see Aevann firing a blast of Python code into the face of an admin who was trying to sitewide Carp from behind. A hit squad of Merari, Belleariel and Awkwardtheturtle lurched forward to make their move, ready to take Carp down for his terminal transmisia. Then Joan appeared and delivered some good old anti-homophobia by fricking the three powermods buttholes bloody. As Joan's raging peepee penetrated the three mods over and over, he screamed "You're lucky I'm doing this to you when you're all so fricking FAT!"

But the three of them were broken apart when Steve Huffman, commanding Bardfinn's fleet, fired a ban ray at the three heroes, tearing up the ground underneath their feet. The three scattered, looking for backup, seeing their forces on the ropes everywhere they turned, watching Bardy brutally beat a pair of helpless goreposters. Once again, all hope seemed lost. But then -

"HERE ARE THE COURT DOCUMENTS THAT PROVE BARDFIN BEAT HIS WIFE"

Out of the sky flew Null, firing an energy blast that tore through Steve Huffman's ship, spraying Huffman with a barrage of shrapnel that ripped through his pale white flesh, leaving him a bloody mess on the floor of his craft as it now crashed to earth, killing the hundreds of redditors inside. At the 11th hour, Kiwifarms had arrived to save us all.

With renewed vigor and the backing of the kiwi forces, the dramanauts fought back with fury, launching an endless barrage of baitposts that drew one janny after another to their bloody demise, taking out even more with malicious reports when they baited the jannies into fedposting irl.

But another drama was playing out on the battlefield, the battle for control of the Internet Gauntlet, the ultimate power that could decide things one way or the other at any moment. Snallygaster was the first to lay eyes on it, pulling it out of the muck of shitposts into which it had fallen. But no sooner had she laid hold of it when blast from the past Ellen Pao came out of nowhere to strike Sally with the ironic power of history reborn. Snally was no weakling, and struck back with a post about drama on a hammock hobbyist Usenet group from 1987. Then while Ellen was distracted, Snally grabbed a shard of broken glass and jammed it into Ellen's throat, bleeding her out onto the battlefield. But while Snally was distracted, TakeItToRCirclejerk rushed forth, and with a cry of "Internet moderation is how I get s*x!" he claimed the Internet Gauntlet, streaking across the battlefield to give it to his master Bardy. The rdrama forces saw the danger and surged forth, but TITRCJ was defended by a legion of SRDines. There was only one thing to do.

"Everyone. The time has come. THE DAY OF THE CAN" cried Carp as the dramanauts fell on the SRDines, ripping and gouging and biting and slicing, tearing limb from limb, carving away chunks of fishy flesh. They knew everything was on the line and fought like it in the face of the cowardly SRDines screaming about trans rights, to which the dramanauts screamed even louder "WE HAVE SITE BANNERS SUPPORTING TRANS RIGHTS!" as they battled back with relentless fury. But TITRCJ, with a final cry of "Refusing to have s*x with trans women is transphobia!" threw the gauntlet across the field and into Bardfinn's hands.

Immediately and with desperate courage the three leaders broke through the SRDine line and fell upon Bardfinn, scrambling for the gauntlet. Joan struck with Stragbringer, the new hammer she'd forged in the heat of a powerbottom's butthole, while Carp struck with Joan's Hammer and Aevann brought to bear all the server-driven power he could. Yet with one mighty blow Bardfinn threw them to the ground. He smiled, lifted his hands, and readied his fingers. "I am... morally correct" he said. Then he snapped.

And then -- nothing.

Carp lifted himself up, bloody and broken, with nothing left to give - and with the Internet Gauntlet on his hand.

"I am... Carpathianflorist" he said, then he snapped.

A look of fury, then of desperation, then of acceptance crossed Bardfinn's features. Then Bardfinn faded away.

Then his SRDines faded away. Then his SRSters faded away. Then his jannies faded away. Then his army faded away.

The dramanauat army looked around, unable to believe it. They'd done it. He'd done it. Carp had banned them all.

A victorious cry rose up from everyone, one and all celebrating the victory so long fought.

Then Aevann rushed to Carp's side, eager to celebrate - and found him lying motionless. The gauntlet had taken its toll.

Carp was dead.

But /r/drama was free.

Are they just as insane as his horror novels or did I read him right and he just doesn't give a shit about writing good horror? Does he actually like writing westerns or are they also slapdash completely insane affairs?

The Short-Timers

The Phantom Blooper

Available here - as they were previously posted on the author's website - are two really great books about Vietnam.

The first one, The Short Timers, was adopted by Stanley Kubrick and became Full Metal Jacket, which I think most people will know. The movie is fairly true to the book, but as usual the book is better.

The second one, which I think is better, features the same main character but is considerably darker, covering time spent as a prisoner of war and detailing the war from the perspective of the Vietnamese.

And it was worth the price of admission. This is a book written by a man who does not give a shit. It's pure penny dreadful nonsense written by someone who would much rather be writing westerns. The plot is that there's an evil entity in service to the death who's getting old and dying because apparently Satan is a fricking cheat. So to extend his lifespan he needs a member of a certain family to rewind a clock and is also ripping out people's souls and sticking them into toys made by a libertarian who records child pornography to glorify Satan. These toys are then sent to collectors all over the world to somehow spread evil. Are they bringing other toys to life? Are they encouraging children to do evil? Who the frick knows. The twists are about as logical and foreshadowed as your average soap opera plot. Every women the hero sleeps with tries to kill him. The devil makes him frick a younger woman for no reason. The people who get their souls ripped out turn into fake people. Some of the toys don't like working for the devil's loser son and his fat libertarian sidekick and so they rebel and the fat libertarian dumps them in a creepy house in the woods. There's a secret evil compound hospital where dissenters get eaten by the old one and die horribly. The book is so unapologetically stupid, and ends with the hero's evil daughter plotting to seduce him when she gets older. Daddy's got a thick rod for you, but it ain't his peepee. It's his his harlot hitting club to beat the slut of sinful little satanists. You're going to church kid. The best comparison is if I tried to write a horror novel in the style of my fanfic. The book is insane. This post is more coherent.

!bookworms

Decide how many pages of Faust you guys want to read

To discuss your weekly readings of books, textbooks and papers.

After finishing “The Master and Margarita”, I started reading earlier this week “The Remains of the Day” by Kazuo Ishiguro. I wanted to start with Ishiguro a few months ago and I was kind of undecided between this and “Never Let Me Go”, which I nominated for the next bookclub.

I'm currently on page 70 and so far I'm enjoying it. The main character is an old Butler who's kind of of a sperg. His new american boss gives him a few days off and he goes on a roadtrip through the English countryside to visit the old Housekeeper who left the Manor 20 years before while revisiting his memories from the time she worked there.

!bookworms

In 2011 R.L. Stine dropped Red Rain his second foray into writing a horror novel for adults. I was curious how well he could write a book outside of the children and YA space. And to be fair, a lot of those Goosebumps and Fear Street books are absolute garbage. Chicken Chicken is one of the worst books I've ever read. So I read through this with curiosity and...

It's just an edgier and darker Goosebumps book with adult characters and slightly more complex prose.

Don't believe me? Let's take a look:

But Zeus sent from heaven a show'r of blood-stain'd rain. In sign of many a warrior's coming doom.

The book opens with a quote from The Iliad. Oh, Stine, how well read you are!

Then it moves into a flash-foward. We are introduced to our main character Lea. She is stumbling upon a beach after a devastating hurricane. Dead bodies and destroyed buildings surround her. As she makes her way up the beach suddenly it begins to rain blood. Or at least red.

We are treated with our first bit of great dialogue:

“Holy shit,” she murmured. “It's raining blood!”

As the blood rain settles, two young identical looking blonde boys emerge from the haze. Lea remarks how angelic they look and she makes her way towards them asking if they need help and that's the end of the prologue.

Alright, not a terrible start. Then the book opens proper.

The book takes us back two days and now it is first person as this chapter is a blog post written by Lea. As is later revealed, Lea started her own travel blog after being laid off from a travel magazine as a head writer. She wanted to prove her bosses wrong by making her own very popular blog. This book was released in 2011, but even then blogs were on there way out. I can't imagine she wa succesful in her venture.

Lea has just arrived on Cape Le Chat Noir (the Black Cat for those of you who didn't take French), a small island off the coast of South Carolina that is infamous for being allegedly cursed. Despite being a seemingly great vacation spot tourists don't visit the island which interested Lea as a reader of the blog has been emailing her about visiting and covering the island on her blog for months. Ohh, I get it. Black Cat because it is unlucky. Clever!

Lea arrives on the island and makes her way to her hotel, which is a small boarding house run by a fat woman and a skinny man. How a boarding house manages to stay in business on an island that supposedly receives no tourists, I don't know. An old woman at the hotel tells Lea how hurricane in the 30s wiped out everyone on the island except for few people. She was one of the survivors. However, the dead came back to life to help rebuild the island and this is the one place on Earth where the dead walk with the living. She should know she says, as she has been dead for ten years. Except haha, she's just teasing. Gee, I wonder why this island doesn't get any tourists.

A hurricane is approaching Le Chat Noir and Lea laments that it isn't deviating from its path when she checks on her phone. Why she didn't reschedule her trip when a hurricane was on its way to the island, I also don't know. However the reader who has been emailing her informs her that a ritual is going to be performed tonight:

I'd been in touch (by email) with a woman who lives on Le Chat Noir, named Martha Swann. Martha told me about an island ceremony called Revenir, which is French for “to come back.” She explained that the Revenir ritual is part of a practice called Mains Magiques—Magic Hands. She believed the French traders picked it up somewhere and brought it here with them. Martha wrote that it is a must-see.

I told my hosts I wanted to attend a Revenir ceremony, and they reacted not with horror but with definite disapproval. They both started shaking their heads, as if it would persuade me to drop the idea.

So of course despite the warning Lea decides to go.

At the ritual, a priest with a face tattoo and black nails passes out cups of a black drink to some of the men in the crowd. Luckily, Lea's emailing buddy who is also attending the ritual fills her in:

“It's the Black Drink,” Martha murmured in her ear. She leaned close and whispered surreptitiously, as if she was breaking a rule. “The Black Drink. Be grateful, dear. In the ceremony, the priest gives it only to the men.”

The Black Drink. Oh, okay.

Lea also spots a small group of tourists on the opposite end of the ritual. Wait, I thought this island doesn't get tourists? No, this is not explained later either.

The men with the Black Drink and the priest all start to chant in archaic French and then drink down the concoction. This wouldn't be an R.L. Stine book without a scene of someone vomiting, as then the men who all consumed the drink start violently throwing up. As Lea and the tourists start to freak out the men continue vomiting until they collapse into their own puke, dead. The priest checks to make sure all six are indeed deceased when he starts to chant "Revenir" over and over again with all the natives joining in.

Much to Lea's shock, the dead men suddenly spring back to life. They are helped to their feet and lead away when the rain starts to come down on the island from the imminent hurricane. We re given this wonderful bit of prose:

Huge raindrops rattled on the palm leaves, like assault rifles.

Lea's email friend Martha tells Lea that she should come with her and her husband back to her place to wait out the storm. When Lea objects because of all her belongings are still back at the boarding house Martha says this:

“Better come with me, Lea. This is going to be bad. It's going to be real bad.”

And that settles it for some reason.

Here is where the book shifts and we are introduced to a new character: Lea's husband Mark. Mark is a child psychologist and he has just written a book that has generated quite a bit of controversy. It's thesis is that parents should take a more laissez-faire style of parenting and to avoid dictating what their child can and can not do too much. He is about to give a talk at a bookstore packed with angry parents when he spots his assistant in the crowd. Here is where I'm jarred into being reminded this is not a Goosebumps book, as it wouldn't be a horror novel written by a male author without a mention of a young woman having nice tits.

She has nice tits. How come I've never noticed? Because she's twenty-three?

Mark's talk is as combative as he thought it might be, when halfway through he realizes Lea is calling him. Mark steps off stage to answer but can't make out what she is saying other than she sounds terrified. The call dies and he steps back on stage to finish getting heckled by the Karens in the audience.

After the talk Mark's assistant comes up to offer him praise for his performance.

She shifted the raincoat. The white tube top had slid down, revealing the tops of creamy-white breasts. “Mark? Would you maybe . . . um . . . like to get a coffee? Or a drink?”

She's flirting with me.

Mark turns her down and she slinks away dejected. Mark is concerned with getting back home after his wife's distressing call and seeing his kids, who are being watched by his sister, a failure who is a live-in nanny for them after her ex stole all her money and made her and her kid get evicted, Mark makes it back home and here is where I see the Goosebumps aspects really come into focus as the infamous cliffhanger chapter endings come in:

He reached for the knob but the door swung open. A sliding rectangle of light revealed Roz in jeans and a long, baggy brown sweater. Her eyes were red-rimmed. He smelled alcohol on her breath. “Oh, Mark.”

“Roz, hi. Have you heard from Lea? Has she called here?”

Roz gazed at him for a long moment. “I don't think she can,” she said finally, her voice a whisper.

Now we transition back to Lea and Martha hunkering down together at Martha's place with her husband as the hurricane roars overhead. Not much happens of note except this exchange:

“I wanted more kids,” Lea said. “I come from a big family. Four brothers and two sisters. I really wanted a houseful of kids. But after Ira was born, the doctor said we couldn't have any more. I was so disappointed. Heartbroken, really.”

Her words were greeted by silence. Martha and James stared at her, their faces appearing and disappearing in the flickering light.

Too much information.

I'm sure this bit of exposition and the couple's shared silence doesn't mean anything and won't come back into play later.

Eventually, the roof caves in from the storm and Lea gets knocked the frick out.

Lea comes to the next morning. Martha and her husband explain only part of the roof collapsed and she had been out for a few hours. The storm has passed, and even though being knocked out for hours indicates someone has severe brain damage, Martha and her husband say they're tired from staying up all night and go to sleep leaving Lea alone.

She makes her way outside and sees the entire island has been flattened by the storm. Bodies are everywhere and bloodied people sort through rubble looking for corpses and survivors. Here we get another Goosebumps butt chapter ending:

The man lumbering toward her caught her by surprise. He was tall and broad and drenched in sweat, thinning brown hair matted to his red forehead. His T-shirt was torn and stained with brown streaks. His shorts were rags.

His eyes were wild and his mouth was moving rapidly although Lea couldn't hear his words. His arms were outstretched, his mud-smeared hands open to grab her. He's crazy. He's out of his head.

Move!

But there wasn't time. With a menacing groan, he grabbed her by the shoulders. He pulled with surprising force, nearly dragging her off her feet. She inhaled the rank odor of his body and his mud-caked clothes.

He groaned again. She wasn't strong enough to resist. He was pulling her away from the others, dragging her out of view, grunting and groaning like an animal.

“Let go! Let go of me! Please! What are you going to do? Please—let go!”

Now inexplicably we turn to a new character named Andy. Andy is a cop who is new to Sag Harbor and is given the unfortunate task of driving over and delivering some bad news to a family, who turns out to be Mark. He engages with some hilarious banter over the radio with a fellow cop on the way there:

“There's a hurricane, Pavano. Down South. A big one. It pushed out into the ocean, but we're getting the sloppy seconds.”

Andy snickered. “Vince, you're a poet. Sloppy seconds? That doesn't even make sense.”

“Hey, what makes sense?”

Subtlety, thy name is Stine.

Andy arrives at the house and an actually funny moment occurs as he tells Mark his wife is dead:

“I'm sorry, sir,” Andy said, lowering his eyes. Rain pelted the back of his uniform shirt.

“How—” the man started. He made the choking sound again. The woman started to sob, burying her face behind the man's shoulder.

“It was a traffic accident.” Andy kept his eyes down, partly not to see their grief. He had to force his voice to stay steady. “On Stephen Hands. Near 114. The Easthampton police—they didn't want to tell you on the phone. They asked me—”

The man's expression changed. His eyes went wide. He raised a hand to say halt. The woman lifted her head and squinted at Andy. Tears glistened on her pale cheeks.

“That can't be,” the woman choked out. “You're wrong.”

“My wife . . . she is away,” the man said, staring hard into Andy's eyes. “She's on an island off South Carolina. She isn't in Easthampton.”

Andy's throat tightened again. He swallowed hard. “Mr. Hamlin, I was told—”

“He's not Mr. Hamlin, you idiot!” the woman screamed. Her hands balled into tight fists. “He's not Mr. Hamlin. Oh, I don't believe it. I don't fricking believe it.” She pounded the banister.

“I'm Mark Sutter,” the man said. He slid an arm around the woman's trembling shoulders. “Roz, please—”

Andy goes back to his car, embarrassed, and the next chapter picks up on that cliffhanger of Lea getting grabbed by the dirty man.

Except, oops, he's not dangerous and just is trying to get her help pulling someone from some rubble. A fake-out chapter ending scare? This really is Goosebumps!

After helping others pull people from rubble, Martha and her husband finally come out of their house and offer to come with Lea as they go to see what became of the boarding house and whether any of her belongings survived. They arrive at the hotel just to find ruins. Lea spots a dress under some debris and picks it up to discover:

She raised the wall board. Gazed down. Down at Macaw's lifeless face. At the puncture . . . the puncture . . . the blood-smeared puncture in her eye.

Lea gasped. She opened her mouth to scream, but couldn't make a sound.

The nail at the corner of the board—the rusted eight-inch nail, fatter than a pencil . . . Lea stared at the nail, then down to the bloodcaked puncture in the dead woman's eye socket. And she knew. She knew that when the wall fell in, the nail had been driven into Macaw's eye . . . eight inches . . . driven through her eye and into her brain.

So many ellipses, darn. Those are Stine's doing, not mine.

Finally the book catches up from where the prologue started off, with Lea finding the two blonde boys in the rain. Lea asks where their mom and house are and the boys just keep repeating that they're gone.

“What's your name?”

“Daniel, mum. This is my bruvver Samuel.”

Samuel nodded but didn't speak.

Lea wanted to hug them. Wrap them both in her arms. Tell them everything would be okay. My heart is breaking for them. I don't think I've ever felt this strange emotion.

Lea doesn't find it odd they speak like British chavs for some reason and is just overcome with emotion for the boys,

“And you have no one? You're all alone?” Lea realized she was repeating herself. She didn't want to believe it.

“Just our friend.” Samuel spoke up for the first time. He had a high, little boy's voice like Daniel.

“Friend?”

Daniel stepped in front of his twin. “He means me, mum. I'm his only friend.” He gave Samuel a scowl. “His brain right now is kind of like shepherd's pie. You know. Everything all mixed together like.”

No red flags here!

But she felt a powerful attraction to this boy and his nearly silent brother. Something warm and soft and real. Two creatures who really needed her. And this crazy feeling that she needed them.

“Yes. Yes, I think I can help you.”

Lea decides she is going to adopt these two strange boys on the spot and bring them back home with her to Long Island. Eventually cell reception comes back and she is able to call Mark and try and convince him of this idea:

“I'm not snatching them. They don't have a home. They lost everything here. Their family. Everything. They're adorable, Mark. They will fit in fine in Sag Harbor. They—”

“I know you want a big family. You always said it. And we talked about adopting. But this is different, Lea. This is too weird. I mean, to come home with two strange boys. I don't like it. I really don't.”

Mark is of course skeptical on this but Lea keeps pushing forward:

“I suppose we could talk to people here. Immigration people? What country are they from?”

“Country? They're from here. This island. They're American. We don't need immigration people.”

Really? Everything coming out of their mouths seem to say differently.

Eventually Lea gets Mark to agree with bringing the kids back to Long Island with her when it becomes clear she isn't backing down and after she suggests that this could be the topic for his next child psychology book. We then cut to Samuel and Daniel as the first part of the book comes to a close.

Samuel wants to bring their friend Ikey to Long Island with them, but Daniel is insistent that he not tell Lea about Ikey as she only wants two kids and Ikey isn't pretty like them.,

“We are starting a new family,” Daniel insisted. “You. Me. The new mum. The new dad. A new bruvver and sister. A new family, Sammy. We'll swim all day in our own pool. We'll go fishing in the bay. That's what Mum says. And we'll rule the school. Like heaven. You want to go to heaven, don't you, Sammy? We're moving to Heaven.”

Samuel made two fists. “I hate it when you talk stupid like that. You think it's cool, but it isn't. It's sick."

What did that mean—feel like home? He'd never had a home. He'd never had parents. At least, not parents he could remember. Daniel was kind of his parent. Even though they were the same age

Daniel relies Samuel isn't going to drop the argument about taking Ikey so Daniel says he'll handle it and walk over to where Ikey is sitting on the dock and presumbly murders him as Samuel hears Ikey yell followed by a splash.

Daniel shrugged. That strange smile played over his face again. “No more Ikey,” he said. His mouth did a strange quiver. Like a tic.

“Huh? No more Ikey? What do you mean?”

Daniel's smile grew wider. “No worries.”

“But, Daniel—” Samuel couldn't find the words.

“No more Ikey,” Daniel repeated in a singsong.

Samuel peered out the doorway to the dock. The dock was empty now. No boy sitting at the end. No fishing pole.

And that's where part two ends, with Lea leaving the island with the two boys to bring back home as her new sons. It seems like strange decision for your horror novel to LEAVE the creepy setting you built up (haunted island with blood rain that gets wrecked by a hurricane) for Long Island of all places, but that's only the beginning.

The second part gets a lot weirder---and worse.

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https://tiny.cc/TareahsTarot

Alisa Zinovyevna Rosenbaum, pen name Ayn Rand, was a Russian born American author. She's been quite influential in the american lolbertarian movement and is kind of a Patron Saint for many rightoids. And is not only limited to the US, I've seen many Ayn Rand books in sale in Brazilian Bookstores, they have translations of all of her works from Atlas Shrugged to her essays like “The Virtue of Selfishness”.

Rand was never considered a good writer, dramacels, what do you guys think of this lady?

Also

This this is the final discussion thread of Master and Margarita.

The next bookclub choice is Faust Part I by Goethe, the first discussion thread will be held on Sunday, August 12th. I'll make a thread tomorrow to decide the number of pages.

To discuss your weekly readings of books, textbooks and papers.

!bookworms

Morning rDrama

I'm feeling nostalgic this morning, so, what books did you read as a kid that you loved?

Here's mine:

I picked this up when I was 10 or 11 and I can confidently say that this is what made me want to be an author when I grew up

I also was read the little house on the prairie books, but we only got to book 4 as a class, so I'm reading them again.

Why can't books look as cool nowadays as they did back then?

60 hours dedicated by a skilled craftsman just to make and decorate one book with medieval and yet modern publishers can't even bother with hardback, much less basic decoration?

https://www.economist.com/culture/2023/07/21/critics-are-getting-less-cruel-alas

Article

https://txtify.it/

https://archive.li/dGpHw

Link to bypass paywall

!bookworms, !neolibs

In 1974, after nearly two decades of living in Paris, London, and Barcelona, Vargas Llosa moved back to Peru and, shocking many fans in the literary world, declared his adherence to neoliberalism. He endorsed its emphasis on individual rights, a free market, and a small government, despite the fact that neoliberalism had been forcefully applied by military regimes across Latin America. (He had become an admirer of the conservative economic policies of the British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.) In the late nineteen-eighties, he went a step further and founded a political party, Movimiento Libertad, in opposition to President Alan García’s attempt to nationalize the banking system. In the 1990 elections, he ran for President against Alberto Fujimori, campaigning on austerity programs and the privatization of state-owned industries.

!neolibs we get to claim an artist for once

!bookworms our second bookclub reading after The Master and Margarita is Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

Goethe was the German equivalent of Shakespeare and Cervantes, so translations probably don’t do justice to the original. However some translations are better than others, which ones you guys suggest?

I recommend reading about Goethe, he had a fascinating life and was probably one of the most interesting figures of his period.