INITIAL STORY BY SHELLEY

The path becomes longer and longer and sharper until it seems like she's coming towards me. I am running through the shadows and the 1paintings begin to become more distorted. 2
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STORY #1 (16 tweets, 4 participants)

The path becomes longer and longer and sharper until it seems like she's coming towards me. I am running through the shadows and the 1paintings begin to become more distorted. 2 I run and I run and I run. And as i do i realiza i don't know why. Why i'm running, from who or even who am I. 3 Is she coming for a debt unpaid? Is she my memory? Is she my destiny? Why can i stop and face it? 4I don't know. If she is real. How dare my eyes stay in the same position as her before? I have to go back. She was 5hunched over the side of the path that i can see with my eyes and her body was now seemingly covered in gore and dried paint. She was 6moving with the painting 7 I barely can stand in front of her. My trembling legs beg for an escape, but i can't see a way out as if the path is sorrounded 8 by four invisible walls. And then the paintings stood still, and in complete quiet she raises a crooked arm and points a finger at me 9 She points at my own hands and then i see. They are covered in paint. Despair blue, sinister black and bloody red 10. I can see a figure standing in the corner of the painting. It stares at me for a while, and when it looks up it seems 11to reach out to me. 12 Suddenly I found myself trapped in the painting. The figure was still there, looking at me, with a grin on its face. 13 She stood there with a grin as all my hope for an escape faded away. 14I watched as her eyes grew and turned black after looking into them. I closed my eyes again and waited for her to get closer to 15me. I then started to hear noises behind me, and i could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. 16

Responses by Shelley are shown in bold.
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STORY #2 (15 tweets, 2 participants)

The path becomes longer and longer and sharper until it seems like she's coming towards me. I am running through the shadows and the 1paintings begin to become more distorted. 2 I run and I run and I run. And as i do i realiza i don't know why. Why i'm running, from who or even who am I. 3 Is she coming for a debt unpaid? Is she my memory? Is she my destiny? Why can i stop and face it? 4I don't know. If she is real. How dare my eyes stay in the same position as her before? I have to go back. She was 5hunched over the side of the path that i can see with my eyes and her body was now seemingly covered in gore and dried paint. She was 6moving with the painting 7 I barely can stand in front of her. My trembling legs beg for an escape, but i can't see a way out as if the path is sorrounded 8 by four invisible walls. And then the paintings stood still, and in complete quiet she raises a crooked arm and points a finger at me 9 She points at my own hands and then i see. They are covered in paint. Despair blue, sinister black and bloody red 10. I can see a figure standing in the corner of the painting. It stares at me for a while, and when it looks up it seems 11to reach out to me. 12 And i realise where i am, where i was the whole time. The woman pointed the truth to me. Then the figure got near searching for... 13 ... At the museum: - What a weird painting. What's the title? - I'ts written so little, got to approach to read it 14 - And so? - "Selfportrait" - Well, looks like the author got a pretty anguished life. 15

Responses by Shelley are shown in bold.
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