Burn. Slenderman Prompt 3. (6 and 1) by HidanKitten32, literature
Literature
Burn. Slenderman Prompt 3. (6 and 1)
A shrill cry emanated through the mansion, followed by a loud clatter as something metal fell to the floor. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, Alana clenched her teeth together as she stared at the newly red mark that stun her forearm. The pan that she had grabbed, which moments ago had been covered with peanut butter cookies, laid face down by her feet; the cookies themselves scattered half way across the room. Her body shook from the pain and tears prickled her eyes as she first directed her gaze to the oven gloves before glaring at the over.
Stupid cooking contraption! She thought she pushed the tray in a little too far but not that f
Gardening. Slenderman Prompt 4. (5 and 5) by HidanKitten32, literature
Literature
Gardening. Slenderman Prompt 4. (5 and 5)
"So, you can really grow anything you want?" Clarice asks, closely watching as a tomato plant sprouts from the ground and grows to full height within seconds; about a dozen or so ripe tomatoes along with it. Taking her fingers off of the stem, Alana dusts her hands off on each other and turns her head to look at her friend. "Pretty much. As long as I have the seeds for it, that is. I can't create something out of nothing." She answers with a smile, folding her arms on top of her knees. Clarice blinks, a mix of surprise yet mostly thoughtfulness crossing her face. Huh. "I guess that makes sense. Do you need to touch the plant to manipulate it?" "No, not really; I just find it's easier." Alana responds with a shake of her head, lifting one of her hands to motion towards the tomato plant she just grew. "To manipulate plant-life I need a certain amount of focus. I need to know what I want to do and focus my thoughts on it. Touching what I'm trying to manipulate helps control that focus.
Clothes. Slenderman Prompt 5. (6 and 4) by HidanKitten32, literature
Literature
Clothes. Slenderman Prompt 5. (6 and 4)
“Fuck, just how many outfits has Trender made for you?” Invisible brows furrowed, Offenderman frowns as he rifles through an opened wardrobe. In it, more clothes than possibly seems able to fit. Most of which that clearly has not been worn yet. Well, likely not since the owner of said clothes had first been fitted for them anyways. Not that the being blamed the girl. Every time he pushed a neatly hung shirt to the side, five more seemed to appear as if out of nowhere. And lets not forget just how pristine some looked. Were they even meant to be worn in the first place? “I don't know. I stopped trying to keep count a long time ago.” Alana, the sixteen year old girl in question, answers without looking over at him; sitting a few feet away at her desk. Pressing his lips together, Offender pauses on a particularly fancy looking shirt which was accompanied by a pair of black slacks before turning his head to look behind him. “Half the stuff in here doesn't even look as if it's been