William L. Truax III
Bio
Disabled Veteran, Father of 2.
I am a teller of tales and dreams, visions, haunting melodies, subtidal invocations of the mind and song.
Many of the Tales here interact with each other in some way and all within the same Universe.
Stories (60)
Filter by community
Cindy of Ravenswood. Content Warning.
There is a difference from right and from wrong, here, my thoughts do not align. I was always under the impression that they were good guys in the world and bad. Now I am not too sure. Let me first introduce myself to you, my name is Cindy Poppins, I am a caretaker for the elderly here in Ravenswood, it does not matter what their fault is or was while they were alive, rather younger, now that they are old and feeble mind and body. It is my task to take care of them in their final days. This is where I say the lines blurred between what is good and what is bad. To give further note in this I will try my best to recall the conversation from one who has passed, as well as one whom is waiting to pass.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
Amelia the Historian of Ravenswood
In the heart of the mist-covered moors, there stood a forgotten manor, its crumbling facade adorned with ivy and secrets. The villagers whispered of its cursed past, of the tragic family that once called it home, and of the darkness that lurked within its walls. Ravenswood, the sign had written, population 1,030. Below that was another that read; Ravenswood Asylum 1 Miles Northwest, Ravenswood Manor East 2 Miles. Written below the Manor was a barely legible handwritten note that read, “rent erode ton” there seemed to be more, but the writing was too faded for her to read.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
Price or Reward. Content Warning.
To the Members of Ravenswood Council: It began slowly, the impact of those who had done this to me, they had said that it was buried within me or could have been a sleeper within, either case, it was passed down by blood, so they say. Though upon the rise of the last twenty years it had only grown within more and more powerful with each breath I took. I am now powerless against the onslaught of the tyrannical mind that possesses me. I am alone in all the nightmares that I see before me.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
Worth the Wait. Content Warning.
I wandered aimlessly through the cold night air, it’s rancid breath gripping and holding the ample scent of perfume from the woman whom walked by me at bay, the streets cluttered with passerby stockholders of boxes and bags. The smell of the bodies ignored by the masses as they ignore the decomposing. The air was cold, so fridged was the frost among the dead and I stood there, silent, watching, waiting, none looked, not one bothered to see me. I was cold. The chill ran deep into my bones and though I called out to a few at first, then a small break between meek and feeble vocal sounds, my hands raised periodically, I was doing all I could to show that I needed a little help, a little warmth to get free from this frost that was overtaking me. None bothered to look at me. Many just walked past along their busy route, whereas most snubbed their nose or stepped over me like I was garbage. They did not bother to even lift me and throw me into the can that was at the corner.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
Tag!. Content Warning.
I sat with my backed turned against the endless pain of the cold steel that was holding me up while I caught hold of my breath. I had been running for some time and ducked inside of the building where I would hide until the creature searched for me no longer. I had hoped that would be the case. The scratching sounds of the creature claws burrowed like daggers inside my ears, whilst its sweet voice called out to me, calling me by name, “Virgil”, its voice was melodic, soothing, luring, it beckoned to me from deep within to a place inside of me that I had not known. It wanted me, but for what I was not certain. It cried out to me. It knew my weaknesses and how to lure me, as if it had been an expert at the game, it knew how I would react, but this is where the creature was blind, it knew, I decided I would do something that it would not anticipate or had been known before. But what?
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
Ravenswood Origins - ICE. Content Warning.
I decided to write this letter one day not too along ago, as more of a why things are the way they are, in doing so, I hope it will help someone, whomever finds this place and myself. Let me begin near the end; it was upon the eve of my youth, when a man steps out into the world to become a man finally, shedding the shackles of boyhood and strings that bind one to their mother or siblings, and in my case, both. I was the eldest of seven, my youngest sister, Edith, passed away one winter due to a mistake that I had made. My father had gone out on a hunt with the other men of our small village and had not been back in some time, in fact, none of them were. I, being the eldest of the family, was at first tasked to seek out the hunting party and being back what stock and ration I could find. If I had known that she was following me, I would have paid better attention. This is, as they say, how life unexpectedly takes a toll or turn on you.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
Ravenswood Origins - Letter. Content Warning.
Ravenswood has always been a place for those who find themselves lost and in need of something, whether it be guidance, or love, or war, irrational, rational, or a place to stay when the nightly air sends that chilling hand down along ones back or the way it may kiss your cheeks, a refusal of whatever belief it was that compelled you to leave and seek those like-minded, or just about any reason. However, not every who, what, where, when, why, or how, will bring one to Ravenswood, it calls out to those IT find as worthy or that IT needs or wants. Ravenswood, as I have come to discover, is very much ALIVE and IT too has similar wants and needs as we humans do, though, not all of us here are human, in one sense or another.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
Ravenswood Origins
The stars shown us all the ways of the world. I had discovered this truth long ago when I was but of lesser age, I was one of the first in my family to have received an education, not just a home-study where one learns the work and ways of the world from and through family and their experiences, but I was given the opportunity to and receive a proper education from a tutor who said he taught the once and mighty Alexander, the one whose life was born in a feather that he wears upon his helmet. The man claiming this was one of elderly status, which here in Ravenswood, was nearly impossible. The average man and woman died at the old age of thirty, or somewhere before forty. This man had clearly surpassed the idea of death when hair was just to turn grey at spots, whereas this man, as I noticed upon his entering my father’s home upon invitation, was full grey and had a long shaggy beard that nearly touched his stomach. He walked hunched over and had a cane in his right hand to help him balance. He wore grey and black for his wardrobe, where his cloak that he took off and placed upon the rack, was blue.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
Revival
I have been blind since birth; due to my blindness I have been able to see the world for what it is and differently from those around me. In that same notion, all of that changed in one instant for me, so exceedingly long ago. I write this to tell everyone who has ever thought nothing is or will be, but also, I write this so that one day my voice will be known to all who had ever wandered in and sought, seeking the one thing they want without caring or paying their dues to life… for all those whom made my outlook terrible… for you all, I tell this and use it as a reminder to myself and for those whom follow after, please read and listen to this old woman’s tale and learn a thing or two.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Fiction
Fade. Content Warning.
The sun beat down upon me while I crossed the threshold on this final leg of my journey. I was nearly there. One more road to cross and I, whom carried this burden, would at last be free of it. I remember it well, the day of my receipt, the day of my taking, the day I left, the burden that has become my life. At sixteen, I was made the Lord of my father’s manners, he and my mother had passed away in a small carriage accident. I remember the crawling feeling that burrowed deep into my bones, it was as if I was to suffer alone and alone is where I would always belong. The lights went out inside my mind on that day, and I had not once cared what would happen to me, as all that I knew was now gone, lost, carried away by some specter that frightened the horse and made the plummet into the gorge that lined the manner. My parents were not far from home when the scream of the fall echoed through the now vacant and void walls, their lasting cries now all I hear. It would be but a week before one could get to them and upon the burial, I was at once made Lord.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Horror
Torn. Content Warning.
Late one summer evening I was out walking in the Yard with my beloved as we had been meeting there to confirm our courtship, as was the custom for our two families, they had bargained once a generation where a daughter and son were to be wed and keep the families at bay and prosperous, as well as in power. It was here in the Yard where she and I would meet and discuss the unlikeliness of her and I having a true UNION as neither of us felt a thing for each other, though neither of us wished to dispose our family heritage nor that of our rights or for what their possible removal of our status would become, it seemed to the two of us that we were forced into a destined loveless marriage that we could not escape. Together we had plotted numerous ideations as to how we could escape our fate, yet none would invoke the demand to run without severe consequences. It was this night in the summer as the wind cascading off the mountains and into the small valley where our town was, in the center, the Yard, where we would be able to find the answer.
By William L. Truax III2 years ago in Horror
