ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Promoted Deviations
Suggested Deviants
Suggested Collections
Description
May 11th, 2024
Photo/Notebook/TV Picture collage for day 3 of Deathiversary 2024
"The sound was nauseating from the volume alone, overwhelming the stench of rotting flesh, chemicals, mold, and smoke. Grinding, banging, clashing, whirring, pistons banging against blades scraping against rusted surfaces, constant noise, too much in the mix and too loud. You get used to one and another hits you again. I think I hated the banging the most. I tried tracing my eyes across the skyline, working out the shapes, trying to piece it together like a puzzle, but as soon as something felt familiar or sensible it would change again. Things kept jotting up through the smog, antennas, smokestacks, or long mechanical arms or appendages purpose built for tasks but in an inordinately circuitous way. One would come up from a warehouse and pull it apart, a huge metal clamp picking its host's body to pieces and feeding it into a conveyor belt that fed into a large maw where they would be pounded - the banging again - into new shapes fitted together to construct another arm which tore down the first. The longer I looked the more it went on, and on and on, deeper and longer, more violent, more disgusting. It was like a perversion of the concept of a machine, horribly inefficient, a poisonous stain covering the world that would have made life awful if there was anything left, just an incomprehensible and pointless sprawl of self-perpetuating entropy. The city at the end of the world, that's what it was, the only possible future left for us now."
That was the last entry in the diary found with the body carrying the ID of one Amy Pleasance Krompton on June 6th, 2014. No record of any such person matching the description have yet to be found, no match for fingerprints or dental records. If the ID was a fake it's a damn good one, too. No past and no future, like a ghost that fell out of a dream into a home with no people in it. Autopsy came back inconclusive. Only other thing on her was a letter, not addressed to her or written by her, at least if the name is right, and what looks like a blank CD marked "It's Made Out of Us," but it doesn't seem to play on any stereo we've tried. The egg heads at the lab thought it might be some kinda miniature laser disc. Future technology? Too convenient? The letter follows:
"Dave,
I don’t mind telling you that I think making this movie is probably the most dangerous thing we have ever done. I am not as paranoid as the fictional me in this story but I have seen this thing and Wess has seen it twice. But as long as we are... can we keep the line 'They did not understand why their houses grew arms and began to eat each other?' Because it's still so good and y'know most of this old stuff hasn't aged well.
93/93=1
Quintessa Vanessa Cave, June 6th 2012"
I'm going to recommend to the chief that we look more into the house and see if we can find a deed on it, and what exactly the additions are meant to be, and who built them. On a personal note, I just plain don't like any of this, something seems off, and I don't think this is a prank. I don't know what it is, but I don't think it's that. Maybe it's time I leave this business, go in for a private eye setup. This concludes the report of detective Howard Murphy, dated November 4th, 1995.
Photo/Notebook/TV Picture collage for day 3 of Deathiversary 2024
"The sound was nauseating from the volume alone, overwhelming the stench of rotting flesh, chemicals, mold, and smoke. Grinding, banging, clashing, whirring, pistons banging against blades scraping against rusted surfaces, constant noise, too much in the mix and too loud. You get used to one and another hits you again. I think I hated the banging the most. I tried tracing my eyes across the skyline, working out the shapes, trying to piece it together like a puzzle, but as soon as something felt familiar or sensible it would change again. Things kept jotting up through the smog, antennas, smokestacks, or long mechanical arms or appendages purpose built for tasks but in an inordinately circuitous way. One would come up from a warehouse and pull it apart, a huge metal clamp picking its host's body to pieces and feeding it into a conveyor belt that fed into a large maw where they would be pounded - the banging again - into new shapes fitted together to construct another arm which tore down the first. The longer I looked the more it went on, and on and on, deeper and longer, more violent, more disgusting. It was like a perversion of the concept of a machine, horribly inefficient, a poisonous stain covering the world that would have made life awful if there was anything left, just an incomprehensible and pointless sprawl of self-perpetuating entropy. The city at the end of the world, that's what it was, the only possible future left for us now."
That was the last entry in the diary found with the body carrying the ID of one Amy Pleasance Krompton on June 6th, 2014. No record of any such person matching the description have yet to be found, no match for fingerprints or dental records. If the ID was a fake it's a damn good one, too. No past and no future, like a ghost that fell out of a dream into a home with no people in it. Autopsy came back inconclusive. Only other thing on her was a letter, not addressed to her or written by her, at least if the name is right, and what looks like a blank CD marked "It's Made Out of Us," but it doesn't seem to play on any stereo we've tried. The egg heads at the lab thought it might be some kinda miniature laser disc. Future technology? Too convenient? The letter follows:
"Dave,
I don’t mind telling you that I think making this movie is probably the most dangerous thing we have ever done. I am not as paranoid as the fictional me in this story but I have seen this thing and Wess has seen it twice. But as long as we are... can we keep the line 'They did not understand why their houses grew arms and began to eat each other?' Because it's still so good and y'know most of this old stuff hasn't aged well.
93/93=1
Quintessa Vanessa Cave, June 6th 2012"
I'm going to recommend to the chief that we look more into the house and see if we can find a deed on it, and what exactly the additions are meant to be, and who built them. On a personal note, I just plain don't like any of this, something seems off, and I don't think this is a prank. I don't know what it is, but I don't think it's that. Maybe it's time I leave this business, go in for a private eye setup. This concludes the report of detective Howard Murphy, dated November 4th, 1995.
Image size
1280x720px 1.21 MB
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In