🌈✨ Satisfying Waxing Storytime ✨😲
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- Опубліковано 16 кві 2023
- 🌈✨ Satisfying Waxing Storytime ✨😲 #580 A 19-year-old secret was revealed to save my relationship
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Nooo why didn’t you finish the police and arrows story it was really good 😭😭
bro ikr😭😭
Ikr people like that such like if you not gonna finish it then don't get us hooked in like that
i commented the ending so go look at my comment if you’re still curious :)
NOOO THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE WHERE IS THE LAST PART OF THE MURDER STORY ITS THE BEST STORY EVERRRRR
Not the thumbnail flipping Us of💀.
Frr
here’s the rest of the bar/arrows/concession story:
I heard a moan. Then, “I… I think I’m hurt… I think… I think…” and then there was nothing.
“Officer?!” I shouted again, and pounded on the hatch. There was no response.
Jeff and Dave were behind me at the base of the stairs. Dave said, “we need to get the hatch open.”
There was more stirring upstairs from the direction of the second thud. I was pretty sure it was our captor. My heart pounded.
I heard something smash in the dark of the basement. I spun to see Dave destroying a metal shelf. He ripped off a sturdy, narrow metal support piece and then ran up the stairs until he was beside me.
Dave wedged the metal piece through the iron bars, and pushed upwards against the hatch. In the process, he created a small rip in the tarp that had been duct-taped over the opening. I immediately began clawing at the thick plastic like a crazed cat.
Jeff followed Dave’s lead and grabbed another piece of the destroyed shelf, wedged it between the iron bars, and pushed.
We heard the welcome groan of bending wood, followed by a delightful snap. The hatch, and part of its frame swung upwards a few inches. It was clear that something was on top of the hatch.
I pushed through the bars with my bare hands, as Jeff and Dave redoubled their efforts. We heard something heavy and metallic crash over on its side. The hatch door swung open, allowing the us to see the scene above.
A police officer lay a several feet away from where we stood. Something was sticking out of the side of his head. A kitchen knife! It was ghastly. The worst part was the man’s eyes. They were alert! He was looking at me.
It was clear that he could not speak and his right hand, still grasping a small revolver, was experiencing some sort of rhythmic tremor.
The officer kept shifting his eyes from my gaze to a point somewhere behind me. He did this twice before I understood. I turned to where he wanted me to look. Against the far wall, the large bear of a man was trying to use the wall to pull himself to an upright position. The man had been shot in the leg, and in the shoulder. He looked pale but determined.
I reached out for the officer’s gun. His eyes tried to tell me something. He wanted to hand me the gun but could not. His mouth opened and closed like a fish. An awful gibberish came out- something that wanted to be words, but were spilling forth from a dying brain.
I strained my arm to its limit, feeling the iron bars pressing into my flesh. My fingertip touched the barrel of the gun but I couldn’t quite reach it. The cop made another awful sound and flexed his torso. His body lurched closer to me and I gripped the gun firmly. I pulled it from the officer’s hand, and quickly reoriented myself to point it at the large man. The bars made this a difficult task, and by the time I got my arm facing the right direction, my view of the man was obstructed by the open hatch door as it lay on top some contraption… the gas canisters perhaps?
I ducked down with Dave and Jeff. “I got the cop's gun. He has knife in his head. The big guy is over there,” I pointed, “but I can’t get a shot.”
Dave said, “how many bullets?”
I glanced down, “I think 3? No, 4.”
Dave whispered, “we could get under him and try to shoot him through the floor.”
We heard the large man groan and move closer the hatch. I aimed the gun in the direction from which I thought he might appear.
Dave left the stairs and was circling around underneath where he thought the man might be.
We heard the clanking of metal canisters and I watched a large cylindrical container get pulled towards where I knew the man to be. I aimed through the hatchway door and fired a shot.
The sound was deafening and the kickback from the small gun was much more than I was expecting. My ears rang and there was a sharp pain in my wrist.
There was silence form the other side of the open hatch door, and then movement- more frantic this time. I heard cursing and something that sounded like the valve of a garden hose turning.
The hissing sound returned. The gas again! Jeff and Dave both dashed to the top of the stairs with me. We all tried dislodging the iron bars.
Without words we synchronized our motions: pushing, pulling, twisting, jarring- until finally it gave. Not much, just and inch. We couldn't tell what had moved, we just knew that when we pulled on the iron bars now, they would all shift back and forth.
All the while, an ominous hissing filled the air. I felt as though we were trapped in a snake pit. I could smell it a little now- the strange odor that had overtaken me earlier. I stuck my face up to the bars and inhaled a lung-full of the untainted air. Dave and Jeff followed suit.
We all ripped fiercely at the bars, and at last I could see the whole clever device as it was pried from the basement ceiling. It must have been 8 to 10 feet long. Dave saw it too, but he must have understood something that I did not because he said, “When I pull, you pull.”
He took a lungful of good air and ran down the stairs, around to the far end of the contraption. He leapt at it, yanking hard at some unseen element in ceiling. Jeff and I put all our weight on the bars, and at long last, the enormous contraption fell. Dave took a step or two back towards us, but collapsed as the gas overtook him.
I was starting to get tunnel-vision as Jeff and I tried to push the dislodged iron bars and their frame out of the way of the hatch. We did so with moderate success. Half the hatchway was clear. Jeff was in a better position, so he climbed out first. My head was spinning now, as I saw the huge man spring out from his hiding place a clobber Jeff with some sort of wrench.
I was having trouble thinking. I wanted to shoot this man. Where had I put the gun?!
I didn’t see it. There was no time. I needed air.
I pulled myself out of the hatch and inhaled deeply twice. My perceptions were dull because of the gas, and so I did not expect the blow as his boot slammed into my already injured face. I tumbled down the stairs, but found my footing near the bottom. And then- a miracle.
At the foot of the stairs was the revolver. I must have dropped in the frenzy to pry the bars loose. I grabbed for the gun, and involuntarily inhaled a deep breath of the powerful gas.
The world collapsed in around me… I could not see.
But I still felt the gun in my hand and the stairs beneath my feet. I charged upwards shooting wildly into the dark. I heard a grunt, and I felt myself run into the open hatchway door. The exertion was too much, I tumbled forward and down, down, down into nothingness.
When I awoke I was being loaded into an ambulance. I grabbed the arm of paramedic who was lifting me in. “Stop,” I said. “My friends? What happened to my friends?”
The paramedic just gave me a sad look and shook her head. They finished loading me in and slammed the doors. I closed my eyes, too weary to think. I drifted back into unconsciousness.
One year later there was a memorial service at my school. I showed up with a girl I’d been seeing for a couple months- a real sweetheart. I think you’d approve. I was wearing my best suit and in my hand was a sweaty piece of paper with my idea of a speech on it.
I walked to the podium, and cleared my throat. I said a few words about how I met Dave, and what a great guy he was. I told them all how he’d charged into a room full of potentially deadly gas, to help Jeff and me escape from a madman. My voice sounded funny through the speakers. The damage to my face was extensive. I've had two surgeries, one more scheduled for the fall. I look okay, but it’s affected the way I talk.
When I was done speaking I walked over to Dave’s family and hugged his mother. She didn’t want to let me go. Dave’s father patted me on the shoulder as he choked back a sob.
I walked back to my seat. “Stop looking around,” my girlfriend scolded. I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“You knew he wasn’t coming,” she said.
“I know,” I said.
When we got back to my dorm room, Jeff was waiting on the front steps. The blow he took to the head had knocked out the vision in his left eye. These days he work opaque sunglasses all the time, to hide his wandering eye. I still greeted him with an “ARRRRGGG” or a “Shiver-me-timbers” from the days when he wore an eye patch. Not today though.
“I couldn’t go,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
I nodded and we all went inside.
We heated up some lunch on our contraband hotplate, and turned on the television for some background noise. My girlfriend flipped to the school’s own CCTV channel, and watched a report on the memorial. We’d seen the cameras there covering the event live.
The student reporter told our story: Of Dave who gave his life, of Jeff who lost an eye, and any ability he ever had to do long division (which probably wasn’t that much of a loss), and of me, and my face.
She went on to mention Officer Stanley Bell, who died that night, leaving a wife and two children.
She talked about the concession stand, and how it was rigged with motion sensors to capture the curious in a dungeon of death. And how the killer had rigged those motion sensors to the telephone lines so that his phone would ring 3 times when someone entered his trap. She talked about the 37 bodies in canvas sacks that had been accumulating since 1957.
And then they showed the artist’s rendering of the man I described to her as “a bear of a man”. He is still at large, identity unknown. I inhaled slowly and closed my eyes. I tried to remind myself that I was one of the lucky ones.
I went to lay down in my room and take a nap. My girlfriend followed me a minute later, and curled herself around me. She left the light on. I always sleep with the light on.
official ending/epilogue:
I’d often imagined death as a cold thing, but when it arrived it was warm and numb. And there was the hissing gas- white noise, like static on a radio. And then it was gone. There were voices from heaven. They wanted to know about a little girl, I think. Then there was the whistling.
It was a merry little tune from a bear of man. How did I know him? Everything is foggy when you’re dead.
Did you know that when you’re dead you can hear your friends whispering to you? I heard Dave’s voice in my ear. He kept saying “phone”. Isn’t that a funny thing to say to a dead person?
Hey, this is interesting: dead people get to keep their toes! I couldn’t believe it either until they started tingling.
I could hear someone chopping a tree in the distance. But it was a tree made of meat. You could tell by the sloshing sounds. Everything is foggy when you’re dead.
You know, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Being dead really wasn’t so bad once you got the hang of it. For example, when you’re dead, you should always keep your eyes closed- otherwise the light pours right into your head and fills you up with pain.
When you’re dead, things don’t always make sense. The thing that I found most confusing was why Jeff’s head was rolling around on the floor. Heads aren’t supposed to do that. Why did death have to be so foggy?
I think the reason I could hear Dave whispering was because he was dead too. I figured that part out when I felt his hand on my face. WHOA…. I still have a face. Death is just too much! Wish I could tell someone about it.
I thought about saying ‘hi’ to Dave, but a funny thought occurred to me… I think that death might just be a room- a dark room with stairs and sacks full of tree roots and stew vegetables. Also the floor is red.
Dave stopped saying "phone"- mostly because he was sliding away. He was crying I think. But the whistling was very happy, so that was nice. Hey, someone’s chopping another meat tree. Meat trees… I wonder why I’ve never seen one? If I open my eyes I could see one now.
Oh dear, that’s not a meat tree at all. Someone is chopping up Dave. That’s very strange thing to be doing. No wonder he looks so sad. You know, I bet I could make Dave feel better if I could give him a phone.
Hey! Look at that! Jeff’s phone is right next to my hand. You know what? When you’re dead I think you get to keep your whole body. Look, I’ve got hands and feet and everything! I can even pick things up.
My hand doesn’t work very well anymore, but it’s good enough to move the phone close where I can see it.
“Redialing.” I used to know what that word meant back when I was alive. It’s flashing at me now. And now I hear more voices from heaven. They keep saying “hello?” I think they want me to talk. I should probably say something. But what should I say?
“Help?” Is that what I said? It’s not so foggy now. I’m sure I said “help.”
But why would I have said such a thing unless I was in trouble?
…
Oh God.
Oh my God.
“Help me. Help me. I’m not dead.” It comes out as a croaky whisper. It was a scream in my mind.
“I’m not dead,” I say again, as I feel strong large hands on my ankles.
“I’m not dead,” I say as he pulls me through the puddle of blood, still warm.
“I’m not dead,” I say as he pulls me onto a plastic tarp and whistles his joyful melody.
I watch him sharpening his blade- a meat cleaver, I think. I never was one for cooking. Why is he whistling?
I’m trying so hard to move, but my body will not obey. He moves so easily. I envy him for it. What a strange thought. What a strange situation. How many others have there been like me, who have had to watch their murderers prepare for the kill?
I think of a bug I saw once, caught in a spider web. No. That can’t be my last thought. My last thought should be something nice.
He’s done sharpening now. And he raises the heavy blade over my body.
I’ll think about my parents. I’ll think about my sister. I’ll think about the ocean, the girls I’ve kissed, the ones I haven’t kissed, the kids I’ll never have, the books I’ll never read. This is my last chance! I’ll think about them all at once. I swear to God I will.
“I’m not dead,” I say.
And then, I am.
@@kategraceee yall are saints
@@kategraceee Thank you so much this was really nice of you to spend your time on
Oh thank you I thought I'd have to leave this with a cliffhanger and hope to find the rest of the story later lol
What a legend 👏
How did we go from a murder story to a middle school story? I wanted to hear the end of the murder one 😭
Same
Same
YES A NEW ONE AS THE LAST ONE FINISHED
......
BUT WHY AT 4 AM
I think even if you don't think it's a big deal that you speak Japanese (and it really isn't) you should still apologize and try to rekindle the relationship
What's the name of the 3rd story? I want to no the rest
There is absolutely no way you cut of the murder story.
Who commented q
First, second and third
1.Kejara Games
2. Cheyenne Gordon
3. Aussie Arts
I'm obviously the the 4th
Come on i wanted to finish the arrow murder story I was never so interested in a story before😭
16:29 I know this is a serious thing but I died when he said I could've kissed him
NOOOOOOOOO I WANTED TO HEAR THE MURDER AND ARROWS ONE!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
I commented the rest of it, im too lazy to reply to yours with the full thing so go look for mine and read the rest of the story 🙂
the last story had me shitting myself
Get a restraining order against your sister
Guys if you're curious about the cops/ arrows story go find a comment from kategrace they put the rest of it
does anyone know where i can see the rest of the murder story?
I had this in the background of something else I was doing and the cough during the murder story gave me a heart attack
In the second story why was it such a big deal that he could speak Japanese
hi (First)
Finish the police story 😭😭😭
Second