Deion Townes
Stories (5)
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Beyond the veil
For centuries, humanity had believed in a cosmic balance—three realms forming a divine trinity: heaven, hell, and the corporeal plane. Each obeyed unbreakable laws, locked in an eternal struggle for souls. But when the Vatican uncovered evidence of a forbidden fourth realm—the antispace—the very foundation of faith and reality trembled. This was no celestial body or hellish pit, but a space between spaces, where nothing followed the rules. Unlike angels, who descended only to claim the souls of the good, and demons, who seized the wicked, the fey who resided in the antispace existed outside the established order. Slipping between worlds at will, they moved through the cracks of mythology and urban legend, their presence a whisper in the shadows.
By Deion Townes12 months ago in Fiction
You know what you did
I've been having these strange dreams lately. Every night, I see myself lying in the middle of the street, staring up at the blinding glow of streetlights. Pain engulfs every inch of my body, sharp and unrelenting, and something warm and sticky pools around me. I try to scream for help, but no sound escapes my lips. My body is too broken, too weak to move. The last thing I see before waking up is my mother kneeling beside me, tears streaking her face. She whispers apologies over and over, her voice trembling, before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. Then, I wake up—always before I can grasp what’s happening.
By Deion Townes12 months ago in Fiction
Stalked by a flame
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It all started two nights ago when I noticed the flame ignited in that abandoned cabin. I was getting ready for bed when the screech of a crow startled me. It forced me to look outside my bedroom window. As I glanced around slowly, the scenery was all the same as usual. The dim September moon shone over the forest foliage as the fog crept slowly along its floor. It wasn't anything special, but something unusual entered this common picture. A little glow was coming from Moore's cabin. A flame that illuminated softly and without movement as I watched. I thought to myself, "who lit that candle? No one should be living there. It's been vacant for years." The thought pondered through my mind as I stared at the flame. I noticed something else occupying the window. I reached for the binoculars that I kept on my dresser next to my window. Without breaking eye contact, I quickly looked through them and saw a large handprint on the glass. I flinched from shock, and the binoculars slipped from my hands, landing hard on the floor with a thud. I quickly swiped them from the floor and continued looking through my window. To my surprise, the handprint vanished without a trace as words replaced its place. The haunting words "It wont to let us go" was written crudely across the glass. I walked away from the window in a panic. My body trembled as fear began to surround me. My flight or fight response was working overdrive as it wavered between the two options. One second I would think to just answer back because someone could need my help. While on the other hand, I thought that if that cabin was dilapidated. Who or what would be writing notes in the window? The thoughts raced in my subconscious until the hair on my neck began to prickle.
By Deion Townes4 years ago in Horror
The Chronicles of Sabbath
In a universe similar to your own lives a parallel one. One that mimics the basics of yours almost exactly with some slight differences. For example, this universe is 2x bigger than your own, and the flora and fauna here are bigger because of our realities, air content being thirty-seven percent more oxygen and carbon-rich. Other than these minor differences our worlds are about the same, from landmasses to oceans, and even mountains, but this reality of ours eerily rotates in a counterclockwise rotation in the reality's shadow you call your own. Here lies the one I call my home. The ancients or the first people of this world had many names for this place Earth 2, earth prime, and even New haven. Unfortunately, because of the creatures that roam this world known as '' The Accursed ", they settled on calling this world Sabbath. you're probably wondering who I am, after describing this place and its inhabitants and not myself. Let me introduce myself. I'm Ivy Wilson, a 20-year-old half Korean, half African zoologist of this world with mid-back black dreadlocks. I study the creatures known as, "The Accursed" and live in a place known as the central city or as people in your world would know it as New York City. This is where I work and live with my father Sky Wilson, a man of Korean descent who is a widely known philosopher and researcher that teaches about the beginning origins of the accursed, and the teachings of the ancients that were passed down throughout the ages. My mother Cecilia Wilson, a beautiful gentlewoman of African descent with whom I share many similarities also has mid-length hair. that's tightly curled. She works as a college professor in a city further south called sea salt similar to what you guys would call Florida. You're probably wondering why my parents are living so far from each other and probably assuming they're divorced. The answer is no. Both have careers in teaching, so you can imagine the mental conflicts between whose idea was right and whose idea was wrong," sigh" so they moved to separate places to teach their findings. It's kinda like a love-hate relationship, but in all honesty, I don't understand it myself but they still seem so happy with each other I tend to just go with it.
By Deion Townes4 years ago in Fiction
A Snowflakes Mischief
'Twas the night before Christmas in 1925 outside London's noisy metropolitan area, on the corners of 6th and 3rd, lived an old couple; Lady Gothel and Duke Noire. Lady Gothel was a retired nun from Germany, and her husband Duke, a native Englishman with an affinity for carpentry. The two lived together in a home converted into an orphanage known by the neighborhood as "The Friendly Embrace Orphanarium." The two lived and maintained the orphanage for many decades, but on this faithful Christmas Eve, an event occurred that the two never expected to happen. Close to midnight, Duke retreated to his study to handle the financial welfare of the Orphanarium. Lady Gothel made her way into the kitchen to prepare Christmas cookies for the children, and she turned on the radio to suit the holiday mood. Suddenly, Lady Gothel noticed something just outside the corner of her eye through the kitchen window.
By Deion Townes4 years ago in Fiction
