Friendship Letters

Hello, everyone! I'm sure you're all curious if I had scrapped content from all 4 series that I've done. Well... *Pulls out big idea journal* I sure do! I'm not gonna go into every detail, but know that there have been 3 journals worth of scrapped ideas for the 4 main series, yes, including the reboot. I'm gonna go into the more interesting ones to save my fingers some room. Here we go! By the way, to save my fingers even more, I'll title each of the 4 series as such in chronological order: Orig...

(Welcome back to the island of tortured memories. Ready to see the mascot-only room once more? This is a sequel to a horror story I did way back when involving Destroy Man from No More Heroes, and the Abandoned by Disney creepypasta main location, Treasure Island, or, as it's called in this story, Mogwlii's Palace. This time around, the heroes return back to the horror place where it all began. The abandoned Mowglii's palace. There has been some unusual activity on the island lately, and Stickma...

After the scuffle with Reid. Shila and NEFARIOUS! would be at the incubator. Admittedly, the lack of security was rather... Off putting. The grandiose nature of the Devil's Incubator was so incredible... What was the catch. Neffy would have stepped up the placible staircase with worry. He would then look over to see it completely darkened. He stared for a long while as the door to it was left unsealed. He sighed and said. "Alright... I'll bite..." He would move to the door to open it. Neffy w...

It was so long. So dark... Yet I will not fall... Not yet. I have work to do. ...

Alone, the Chloromancer roamed the dark sea. Were those seconds, or were they entire eons passing right before his eyes? Waves crashed upon the cold hull of the steerless metallic ship, yet no matter how much it rocked, the ship would never sink. No matter how often he tried, he could not jump into the dark waters below. With his book of memories held close against his chest, Zerathur hummed songs of old, and another voice joined his chorus. Sat upon the taffrail, The Traveler examined the o...

You’re alone in your home. The storm outside is spilling something fierce, but lucky for you, you’re in your nice, warm house watching a bit of TV while the rain spatters against your window. Unfortunately, strong winds have taken out the picture of the TV. It’s all static… You sit, you wait… and it still doesn’t come back on. Perhaps now’s the time to turn it off and go to bed? That seems to be the appropriate thing to do. It’s not late, but it’s well within bed time parameters. With the thou...

It is done. Their memories were compiled and adequately rewritten to further fact from fiction. Did it take him long to revise his work, or did it take no moment at all? Zerathur closes his book and carefully cradles it in his arms. Every lover, every friend, every acquaintance, forever with him. None of them shall ever be forgotten. The breeze died millennia ago; The endless forest was illuminated solely by the illusionary phantoms that moved back and forth in their unending routine. ...

Eadil is a Necromancer. It is common in his kind's folklore for healers and medics to arrive too late to save the heroes who've fallen in the great battles of old, those born with the natural affinity of healing often mocked as 'healers of the dead': A pejorative term turned official with the consolidation of the Velgraviran Empire. As he stares at the skulls piled upon his desk, he curses the irony. He wasn't here to help those who needed it when they were hurt, much like the 'Necromancers' of ...

I'm still unsure of the amount of days I've spent on this project of mine. Sometimes hours blend with days. Days blend with weeks. And weeks blend with months. Regardless of how long I've spent on this project, it'll soon be fulfilling its purpose. Lord Somber must be killed. This is the right course of action. A monster such as him shouldn't be allowed to breathe within this world, much less rule a Kingdom. No....This Kingdom deserves better. Better leadership. These parasites we call civil...

Wander for long enough, and it will find you, for the forest hungers just as every living thing does. There are many different tales told by many different tongues. Each carries a measure of the truth, muddied though it becomes in the telling. Many are kind enough, speaking of the healer who came for four months to tend the ill, asking only a small fee, or of the mysterious adventurer who could locate anything or anyone with a few words. Some talk of a fae being, a benign entity of a magical fo...