CreepyZalgo

Christians Story: Christian sat back, content with a job well done. The luminescent red numbers on the wall read 1:05AM.  Christian decided this would be a good point to end off his literary hobby for the night if he was to have any hope of turning up for work in the morning, being of course, terribly eager to return to his unfulfilling day job and lonely existence, just as any man would be. As Christian shut down the computer, and just like every other night, he felt a little part of himself die. Callums Story: The city was better at night. At night, the flashing neon that illuminated the streets hid the sharp gravelly dust that rose of t

Sam stumbled gently from one side to the other, each time managing to remain just slightly out of sync with the red strobes illuminating the white, damp stained walls of the downstairs. People were looking at him. Although the music was still blasting vibrations through his gut at regular intervals and the lights were still speckling the room and throwing up dazzling geometric shapes across the ceiling, it was no longer a party. It hadn’t been ever since he threw that half empty red cup of vodka and lemonade at Sarah. It was something else now. The room. The people. They’d changed. The lights designed to paint the simple room lik

Christians Story: Christian reclined back into the cushioned leather of his desk chair. This was his private palace. A refuge against a world that'd made this poor little Brighton secretary a refugee. As he reclined he felt his left arm ache dully draped across the front of his body, in the most comfortable position he hold it. It'd been a couple of months since it'd flared up like this. Then again, it was always there. The grey box by his side's hiss reverberated obnoxiously around his aching head. It’s a pity he thought, something as beautiful as the world he created for himself inside virtual reality required such a, primitive mechan