Also, I'm going to upload a selection of quotes highlighting the various Fears from OH GOD THE RAPTURE IS BURNING. I'll add to the list later, and make it more complete. for now, this is all I have.
Edit: I've gone through over twenty Fearblogs, and I think I'm going to call this finished. If anyone has any thoughts, or possible additions, let me know.
The Fears of the World (Formerly called "Fears of the Rapture")
A man in a gas mask. A man without a face. A face without a man. A shadow of your former self. A boy in isolation. A girl who pulls the strings. A man who is a dog. A dog made of men. A man who has our pasts. A blur in our perception. A convocation of birds. A thing with ill will. A judge in the sun. A beast below.
The shadow of the man spread his shadow arms out wide and then seemed to split - one half became a small little boy, the other a very tall and thin man. They walked around each other, circling. The boy jumped up and suddenly became a tall woman, but her face was...weirdly shaped. The thin man's shadow turned around and transformed into the shadow of a wave and then a flock of birds. The woman's shadow knelt down and became a hunched old man in a long coat. The shadow birds flew together and turned into a dog and then the dog became more humanlike and it's paws became hands with long, knifelike claws. The shadow of the old man stood up and grew a beak like a bird, then the beak became a mask. The two shadows then dissolved in a thin fog of shadow, then formed together, building up higher and higher, constructing shadow buildings and shadow skylines until there was an entire shadow city.
And then I heard The Rake howl, and The Slender Man start walking, and The Plage Doctor glide across the forest floor, and The Convocation soar, and The Black Dog leap, and The Wooden Girl dragging herself through the tall grass, and The Nightlanders run away (and yet at the same time lurk even closer), and The Choir dashed in between and throughout the trees, and The Archangel's greatest grunt floated up above in the clouds, and The Cold Boy sang in the bushes nearby, and The Ichor plotted while in the form of condensation on the blades of the grass below, and a floating Eye judged us from a tree a half a mile away, and above us, and though it was night, bees Intruded around above us as though it was a Spring day.
It was pale white, it was crawling on its arms and knees, and its eyes were staring into my soul.
If it looks like a Rake, it probably is The Rake
"THE MOTHERFUCKING RAKE IS REAL. AND THERE ARE AT LEAST FOUR OF THEM."
in my bed
oh god its eyes were like hell
I mean, that looks nothing like Bill anymore. It’s all blood and torn flesh, scattered all over the room. What’s left of Bill is scattered all over the walls and floor and ceiling.
"THE WHITE JESTER IS NEXT"
I hear something.
It sounds like the pitter-patter of light footsteps.
Not The Rake’s ferocious footsteps, either. Calculating footsteps.
Anyway, for a few minutes after waking, I just couldn’t move. I felt like something was holding me down. And hallucinations— those were the worst. I saw a thing sitting on me, pale and hairless, kind of humanoid, two big black eyes looking straight at me. I think it was saying something, actually. And then I blinked and it was gone and I could move.
And the fifth figure crouched behind me, and crawled on all fours into my view. He wore nothing, but he had no genitalia. No hair grew on his pale flesh, and knife-like claws jutted from his fingers. But it was his eyes that I was drawn to. Black and empty, like staring into a void, and yet somewhere deep within them I could see something uncomfortably close to humanity.
But I couldn't see it? How could I? He's just a beast. A mindless animal. That's what I saw when I looked at him. That's what we all see.
That's exactly what he wants us to see.
We focused on his claws and his fangs. We forgot about his voice. That voice that implants ideas and instructions in our minds when we are at our most vulnerable.
He is the Feral Beast. He is the Whisperer. He is the Incubus. He is the Lord of Nightmares.
He is the Rake.
No eyes. That thing had eyes. Pitch black eyes and it would always stare at me and I would always hide underneath my blankets so that monster won't get me. I tried telling mommy about that monster but she told me it's not real. She didn't believe me. My dad told me it was my imagination. I tried telling him about the voice, the words of the beast, but he said it could have been the radio.
Pale and ugly was it. Whispering, mumbling. It looked at me with those pit black eyes.
I saw it. I thought some dog came into my room somehow, but dogs don't talk. They don't whisper.
The flapping.. it sounds like.. swishing. Liquid swishing.
EAT IS IN THE THAMES
It.. it was huge. It was coming out of the ocean. It looked like a giant tentacle.
..I said my name is Jordan.
“Your name is Rael.”
..No, my name is Jordan.
“You are Rael to us.”
"One of us called her the Epping AquaTarkus. Another one of us called her Salmacis. I don’t know what to call her."
They all said “I’m the only one here.” At the same time.
I hear faint splashes.
Mister Finch steps forward.
“In madness, you dwell, Rael. Welcome to The End Complete.”
"If you must call me by a name, there are plentiful from which to choose. I recommend one a female.. what you call “American” human referred to me as, which was The Epping AquaTarkus. When obeying the rules of your language, it produces an acronym structure, a rather peculiar one, of EAT. So if you must refer to me as something, refer to me as that. Or any of my many other names you humans have called me."
"That human had these algorithms, you have a word for it. Hold on a second. ..music. Music. When I presented myself to her, she defended her.. what you’d call ‘self’ with those algorithms, and she wound up naming me after two such pieces. She’s no longer an outsider, and I find the algorithms— the music— to be structured in appealing ways."
"Most of us want to kill you, do worse than kill you. Because you pose a threat, because you’re an X factor. But I don’t. I’m a being of knowledge. Unlike your ‘known rules of survival of the fittest,’ I grow by learning. It’s in my best interests to keep you alive, as you’re an outsider."
"We are The Camper, Rael. EAT is The Camper, and The Camper are EAT."
He was wearing a heavy black cloak and this.. mask thing. A long mask, looked like a giant beak
She’s.. she says she feels like she’s got bugs in her skin. She says she can feel them allcrawling under there, infecting her, muddling up her thoughts, her speech, her everything.
"The Plague Doctor is not one for healing the same patient twice."
"I looked over some security footage and couldn't find anything - until a few days before the raid. A...man walked in and then walked out of the warehouse. He wore some sort of overcoat and a mask, with a long beak. Looked it up later on - it was a Venetian costume, Medico Della Peste. The Doctor of Plague." Tap tap tap. "Just looking at him on the security footage made me want to wash my hands until they bled. And I knew. This man had done something. Just five minutes of being near him and the dealers chugged bleach like they were fourties."
kay, that’s just a guy. Not a monster destroying my perceptions of sanity and reality. Just a man. The silhouette of a man, for that’s one bright-ass light at the end of the tunnel.
He’s wearing a gas mask.
His arms are spread, like he wants to embrace me. Goddamn, I hope you’re secretly a chick.
"I am The Ecclesiarchway. You may know me as The Archangel, a title dubbed by those who misunderstand. I am the Fear who plans ahead and has the force to set about anything in my power."
"Fight? Now? No. I am only here to overlook."
"But then last night, this big man in a gas mask and full-body suit showed up in the band room. He didn’t even move; instead, zombies just kinda started.. flooding out of him. Yeah, out of him."
Apparently, the -Blackbirds- have started to move in on -Gabriel's- territory.
-Gabriel- won't like that. You see, Gabriel is a very arrogant -Elemental.- It manipulates corpses. Controls the dead. Zombie maker.
Dead bodies, on every visible surface but the highway. The dust of the desert terrain covered many of them, and the shadow of one skyscraper towered over them all. On that building, a twin triangle symbol was marked, letting everyone know that this...
This was the Archangel's territory.
However, this thing is unlike the commonly held perception -- that God is good, and wise. No, the Supremacy is a spiteful, childish, petulant, boastful, arrogant, pretentious, idiotic, sadomasochistic, petty, unjust, morally bankrupt, vindictive, monomaniacal, malevolent bully. There are few other words for it: if the Supremacy is a deity, it is an evil deity. If it truly is the afterlife, it is a repulsive one; like the Abrahamic Heaven, you are forever with God; but God is evil, and God is cruel. This seems almost like Hell; an evil overlord of the afterlife. And it is this very point that irritates me.
do you believe in hell?
we can lead you to heaven.
you have to run. This thing won't just let you go. If you stay here, you'll die, and that thing will take your body and start parading around with it.
There is no escape from the Archangel. I understand that now. To become its slave is the ultimate fate of all humans. The Archangel isn't just some monster. The Archangel is the afterlife, and it waits for us all.
Everyone is a victim, or will be a victim: nobody escapes the Supremacy.
IT’S SO COLD HELP.
"Maybe you’ve met him, too. He’s a little boy. Rogers said the boy knew a lot of nursery rhymes. But the boy was always cold, always a little too cold. He looked like he had just been thawed out of, like.. a block of ice or something. Except he looked like that every time we saw him."
Imagine walking down a dirt road, out in a wide open area, on a hot, breezeless summer day. Imagine that there are no clouds in the sky, and the sun beats down on you directly. No imagine that you are also wearing several layers of clothing. It's so hot that you feel like you're about to collapse.
Now imagine that you hear a young boy's voice behind you, reciting a nursery rhyme.
Now imagine that you suddenly feel quite comfortable in your layers of clothing. It's not hot at all. In fact, it's kind of chilly. ...and now its even chillier. You're shivering. You can't stop shivering. You rub your hands together and breath into your clothes and hug yourself and try to focus on the brightly shining sun but to no avail.
You are cold.
And now your skin becomes numb. Your hands and feet can no longer move. The saliva in your mouth has turned to ice. Your eyes are crusted over.
And then your blood freezes, and your heart can no longer beat.
THAT is how the Cold Boy works. Pray that you never annoy him.
The boy's face was cracked. It looked like he was made of ice and when I hit him, it created a single crack down the side of his face. "You aren't very nice," he said. The floor was covered in frost and my elbow was painfully hurting from where I had touched him. "It's so cold. I think someone left the window open, because it's so cold." He stepped forward again and I pointed my gun straight and fired. The sound seemed deafening in the bookstore and a small hole appeared on the boy's head, but no blood. "You better shut the window," he said, "or you'll let the cold in." He smiled at me again and then he fell backwards and shattered into pieces.
WATCH OUT FOR THE CAWS
Holy shit, I know the source of the cawing.
There’s a huge flock of birds flying around these mountains. They’re causing the cawing.
It’s.. heh, it’s.. pretty big! It’s just getting bigger and bigger an
GREAT DODONGO OF THE CONGO
THE BIRDS ARE THE LIGHTNING
The next time he woke up, he heard the clattering of the typewriter again. He rushed into the study and observed three birds, instead of the previous one. Two of them were pecking at the keys, while one was turned to look at him. The one looking at his squawked and the other two stopped their pecking, then all three flew out the window.
Hank stepped forward gingerly. How had they brought the typewriter out? He knew he put it away, but here it was, another piece of paper inside. More words:
"out talons can tear through bone
our beaks can wear down mountains
our wings can cover the skies"
I won't lie and say she didn't have a beautiful body... she didn't have a beautiful body. Once it might of have been, but it was so covered in scars and scabs that anything enticing about it had long since been eradicated. I shined my flashlight on her, and realized with a start that the scabs were moving.
Tiny little beaks burst out of the woman's flesh, and birds clawed their out of her body. Thunder cracked again, and this time when I looked up, it wasn't storm clouds I saw.
Birds. Thousands upon thousands of birds covering the sky, the beating of their wings the source of the thunder.
I stood before the Convocation.
After I went to the bathroom, I heard a whistling. I looked around the corner and I saw Mr. Lappet. He was standing outside Taylor’s locker, stuffing another note inside. He was the one who was writing the notes.
He was whistling this weird tune. I can’t. I can’t remember what it was, but it just made my head hurt. I decided to follow him. I wanted to know why he was putting the notes in her locker. Why he wrote those things.
He left the building and walked down to the quad. He stopped next to a bench and sat down. He looked up and…he opened his mouth. His mouth stretched out. It became wider and wider, larger and larger.
And out of his mouth emerged a beak. Then a whole bird. It stepped on Mr. Lappet’s chin and then flew away. Another bird came out of his mouth. They looked…strange. It flew away as a third bird came out.
Then. Then his mouth opened wider again. There was another bird. A huge bird. It was bigger than his head. I don’t know how it could have fit inside his body, but it did. It emerged from his mouth and then flew away.
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11037 never forget.