Hexagon Vestibule

In the context of affirmative indexation, I discovered the line that also interested the eagle, but he could not find it. No matter how good his eyes were, only woods that camouflaged themselves as a tree. Even if trees are mostly not that loud, but rather green. Because of the hexadecimal structure and a shadow that cast a veil, I was able to make many discoveries that should not be discovered, which led to people trying to discover me. But contrary to all expectations, I was under more than one blanket. Beautifully cuddly and warm, with my not so warm Matcha tea. Extremely digestible, in contrast to my discovery.

With a few movements I approached the creature in the vestibule of the mysterious facility; where exactly I was remains unknown for safety reasons. But I was there, and that counts. The antagonistic traits of the beauty delighted and befuddled me. A dance begins, only the better ones are invited, shortly after closing time. A shot was fired, and the creature was allowed to feed, fork and spoon were not needed, in spite of great need. Commensurable amounts of blood were shed, and the child lost all laughter. A child's laughter can be so beautiful.

Figures dressed in folds, envied by the rabble, hated by like-minded people, are exstatic from the confirmation of its existence. An answer to all questions, just can't fail, when they see me they'll eat my skin and I still need it. Without skin, any dirt would stick to my tissue and infect itself like homosexuals with AIDS. Tasteless? Without skin, definitely. Crispy skin from a grilled chicken I would like to have now.

There's nothing more I can do than write my notes. In the hole the pain, a face recognized, frivolous gestures pervading the scene of horror. Nobody can be named here, but the names are already known. It is difficult to face the truth, many people associate the truth with justice, but both don't know each other at all, the truth can often be very cruel, like when I had to realize that I could never become a basketball player because I am not black. Perception is allegorically connoted because it doesn't exist, that's why it exists. Tragic excesses reach new heights; it's a pity that nobody is afraid of heights, I'd like to see them fall and clap on the ground, get pulverized, time for more Matcha.

The eagle is in a nosedive with unruly speed, but what is that? The direction is wrong. Am I high? Rather not, it seems, he was supposed to be on my side, he wanted me to do it. Dodging is self-evident, but not necessarily successful. Rich through success in this undertaking, that was a serious possibility. He scraches me, and the wound is deep enough that he acquired the taste. I flee into the deepest shadows, the fear is really there for the first time. Why is this happening? The creature is evil after all. If I can't trust the eagle anymore, whom can I trust?

The dance continues, everyone covered in red by the pulse of youth. Colours extend and captivate all wrinkled comrades. The piglet is there and grunts something at the rest, disgusting, how can you get involved with something like that. Oh no, the crooked appearance exposes itself and kneels before the dancing creature. Both disappear into the heart of space. I have to leave the event, the eagle smells my trail. Without a trace I remain missing.

Written and translated by audiolex23, original story in German: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/de/wiki/Hexagon_Vestib%C3%BCl