#frou writes

From a young age, Frankie Alinsky knew what she wanted. A beautiful cottage in the woods, surrounded by various flora and fauna. The cottagecore dream. Her dream.

It was something she daydreamed frequently, especially when she was left to her own devices all the time. Her parents were usually out and about, and once her mother died, it only got worse. It was just her and the books she’d borrowed. Their topics were gardening how-tos, flower meanings, and her favorite; how to buy a plot of land just for herself.

And so one day she got so sick of it. 14 year old Frankie was sick of being locked up in her house all her life. When her father was especially drunk at night, he’d leave the back door unlocked, and that’s when she made her escape.

In the dead of night, she left her home and never looked back. With only her pajamas, her favorite hat, and all the money in her piggy bank, she ran to town searching for a place to sell her land.

She came across the only lit up shop in town, named “Columbine Realtors.” This was exactly what she needed. She met with a man nicknamed “Mister D” and they had a very spirited conversation. He treated her as a serious customer and offered her options of land to buy. Once she made her choice, all he did was make her sign a contract and it was hers.

Not reading the fine print, Frankie signed the contract. Mister D offered his hand to shake, and Frankie shook it. Then everything faded to black.

Once she came to, she couldn’t believe it; a cottage next to a forest. Exactly what she dreamed of. Although, the strangest thing was; she swore she could feel something staring at her.

(This is only the very beginning! If you like this enough, you should totally follow my blog or whatever,,, :3

The Dreamer

The dreamer dreams foolishly in the night

of tales of horror and adventure

tales of love and sorrow

tales that might be too close to heart.

The mind dreams and it never forgets.

The dreamer dreams it dreamt and so it did.

A tale of its worst nightmare

tendrils slithering up their trembling legs

clinging onto the fabric of their bods

snapping it back to reality.

The mind thinks it wants to forget.

The dreamer dreams so it can thrive.

A tale of a valiant knight

clanging metal armor with every step

a shiny metallic sword in hand

ready to slay the monster that plagues it

but is too scared for all the terror and destruction

that awaits it in the treacherous dragon’s mouth.

The mind forgets but dreams in spite of it.

A dreamer dreams on its lonesome.

Where there was once one bod in its fort of pillows

is now infiltrated by the vision of an affectionate lover

cuddled up against their cold slender waist

a phantom of love and warmth

revealing the cravings it so desperately wants to hide.

The mind screams for release but inside it never wants to forget.

A dreamer dreams so it can grow.

The pitter-patter of water at its window tells the dreamer

a secret message that only it can decipher.

an ocean of tears surrounds the dreamer

reminding them of what they have lost

a cruel reminder of the memories they have crossed.

The mind is cruel and it is warm

and it is exactly what the dreamer dreams it to be.

An endless labyrinth of circling thoughts

a bright and pure light guiding it

although it is unsure where to.

The thinking thoughts speak to it

and whisper everything it couldn’t say.

words kept so repressed inside

words unspoken yet still heard.

Dreams keep the mind thinking

it keeps the dreamer dreaming

Dreamers keep dreaming to one day break the curse

the harrowing affliction that inflicts their psyche

a pain no average dreamer could feel.

All dreamers know one pain

and that is this:

when all you’ve ever wanted

can finally be felt

at the peaks of your fingertips

but the view starts to fade

the lights gets fuzzy

the voices start to arise

your head starts to throb

Magnolia (Maggie) Greaves has always been strange. Whether that was from her uniquely goth appearance or her crippling anxiety, she never seemed to fit in with the crowd. So when she moved to the city with her best friend Agnus, she wasn’t expecting anything new. But oh, how she was wrong.

The city was nothing compared to her old hometown. Here, in the city, people are all different kinds of unique. And she liked that. Or, rather, she thought she liked that.

To help with the outrageous amount of rent on her apartment, she decided to work a job. And what better way to start your working life than a customer service job?

She interviewed for a place called Cafe Columbine, the most popular coffee place in town. She figured the coffee wasn’t all that good, but the pay seemed nice. The interview was quite strange. There wasn’t any of the usual questions. The interviewer just blankly stared at her, asked her for her free days, and said she got the job.

The job wasn’t anything remarkable. Clock in, prepare everything for the day, serve stuck up city people their coffee, clock out, close up shop. But was more strange was how customers seemed to be hooked on their coffee and pastries.

It wasn’t a simple coffee addiction, it was a hunger. A craving. A primal urge to consume their products. At first Maggie internally joked that the boss put crack in all the products, but no. It was much, much worse than that.

On a day unlike the others, the boss came to the cafe. She’d never seen him before, which made his visit all the more interesting. He took one look at Maggie and was immediately intrigued. That day, he invited her to the basement of the cafe.

If there’s one thing about Maggie, it’s that she’s a massive people pleaser. And you have to make good impressions on the boss, right?

Despite her friends trying to convince her that following an unknown man into the basement of her workplace well into the night was possibly one of the worst decisions she could ever make, she did it anyway.

The door in the coffee shop that was usually locked was now widely open, inviting her into the depths below. She took her descent down the stairs and was immediately hit with a foul stench. An odor of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Once she was fully in the basement, she sees the man she saw earlier today. Her boss, carefully feasting on someone, or something’s, dead body. Oh, so that’s what that stench was coming from. She saw his blue eyes glow in the darkness of the basement, pounce on her, and everything faded to black.

(And that’s just the start of the story! If you read this far, I appreciate it so much.

This is the 2nd story in the timeline, but i just decided to do this one first.

If you haven’t already, you should follow my blog! <3 I do oc art & lore, and this is just one of four original stories I talk about.

The Aster

I have gone by the name ‘Aster’ for as long as I remember

although I do not remember too much.

It started as just a random name to cling to

a soft blanket around me

a mask to clutch.

No matter the weather

wind, rain or shine,

I hear it come from someone’s mouth every time.

As if it was natural

as if it was right

as if it was something I should cherish

not something I should fight.

An aster is a flower

dainty and pure

it comes from stars in the sky.

it is lovely

it is simple

it is pretty

but it’s everything I am not.

I’m not a flower,

dainty and pure.

I cannot grace the presence of others with my glittering grandeur.

I’m silly

I’m tacky

I’m a hypocrite

and I hardly recognize who I see in the mirror each day.

A flower is resilient,

and blooms beautifully

no matter wind, rain or shine.

It firmly plants its roots in the soil it was blown into.

It doesn’t falter

it doesn’t whine.

So tell me little flower

who may I be?

Your pointed petals speak to me.

So tell me little flower

am I an aster like you?

Your name itself is just too cute.

So if I may little flower

although it may not seem too fair

can I borrow your name,

just once,

and I’ll get out of your hair?

You are my flowery facade

my mask I tightly clutch

you are my safety blanket

and I live in your shadow

although it may seem too much.

you’re comforting

you’re reliable

You are safe.

But I know all too well

that this safety of mine will not last for too long.

I feel my mask wither and twitch

and it tells me something is wrong.

This name that I have clung to

no matter how hard I pull and tug

could never be mine alone.

I knew it when it didn’t fit on my face right

when the nooks and crannies of my face rejected it

I knew it when it fell off at times

and I scrambled to pick up the broken pieces

because this mask of mine is fragile

So for the last time

I pick up the broken pieces

but do not piece them back together

Because the aster is resilient

it stands its ground.

It moves forward

even with a frown.

And although it is painful

and brings me much sorrow

I will return the name I have held

for it does not fit me any longer.

Thank you little flower

for you have given much joy.

But I must move on to better things,

hobbies and interests I enjoy.

The little fragments of the name I once used

stay with me,

indubitably fused.

So please remember

the next time you see my face

that I am not a flower

although you may see a trace

Like the embers of my carefully picked name

I too will fall

But no worries

do not fret

because to this flower of mine

Aramis Knowles has always been interested in plants. Flowers, ferns, trees, all the like. Her days at the orphanage were filled with climbing trees, poking ant piles, and sniffing flowers, making the occasional mud pie along the way.

But her same old days changed when a seemingly rich and elegant couple adopted her. They took her to London, where she would grow up. She went from a lively and spirited child to a soft spoken and seemingly mature young girl. They especially reprimanded her for messing with plants; too dirty, unlike someone of her status.

As a young girl, she was expected to do the very best for this British couple. And these high expectations followed her throughout her life. She decided to study in botany, an interest that had followed her from childhood. Her father approved of this, especially in her studying a science.

Once she finished her degree, she overheard her father on a phone call discussing a certain issue about an island that had been overrun with radioactivity due to a scientific mishap that caused the scientists to flee. Interested in what the effects this radioactivity could have on the rich flora of the island, she begged her father to let her go on a research trip there.

Staying in a family villa there that had miraculously survived, Aramis carefully collected mutated plants found on this island, containing them in a greenhouse. There she could safely study the plants while having a hazmat suit on, ensuring that nothing could harm her during this endeavor.

One day, while finishing up an experiment on a particularly interesting plant, there was an… accident. She found a tear in the arm of her hazmat suit.

This was particularly troubling. She’d heard of all the negative effects radiation could have on her health, but surprisingly, she felt fine. She tried to decontaminate herself as best she could by taking a shower and went to bed for the night.

Seeing how nothing particularly bad had occurred, she was curious. Had these supposed effects of radiation been false?

She took a gamble. The next time she went to study the plants, she went in with nothing. No hazmat suit. No mask. No protection whatsoever. And the strangest thing? She felt fine. So she kept doing it. Having to put that hazmat suit on and taking it off every time was a hassle.

But even though she couldn’t feel that anything was wrong, there definitely seemed to be something different about her. Her typical kind and gentle demeanor was replaced by one of coldness and callousness. She strived for perfection when it came to her studies. Day and night, she would not stop until she found the answer she was looking for.

And her mindset on humanity changed as well. She used to be someone that cherished humanity and all that it stands for. That despite all its imperfections, it can still be beautiful. Pfft, how naive she was.

Humanity can be improved. Humanity can become better, more perfect. With the help of a little DNA, human can too, be perfectly capable of living without anything but the sun and water.

And that was her mindset. She recruited the work of a professional in the field of genetics, Avery Tempest, who helped her realize her idea to its full potential.

Avery had a certain specimen that could theoretically get humanity to the point of perfection that Aramis wanted. A specimen called a parasite. A parasite could fuse with the host’s DNA, and could asexually reproduce, spreading further.

Together, the two of them created a plant-like parasite that could (in theory) completely transform the human race. But before they could fully test it out, it escaped.

(Unlike the other story introductions, this one is more of a story summary than an introduction, but shhhhh…

This is first in the chronological timeline!! :3c