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To say that these stories have been difficult to come by might be sugarcoating it. Up until a few years ago, I had always assumed that my grandmother’s family was filled with a bunch of alcoholics or petty criminals. Something vaguely tragic but hardly interesting enough to warrant juicy gossip. Asking after them would usually make my already cold grandmother clam up and either deliver a smack to the wrist or tell you to go play in the yard (read: in traffic). Recently though, she’s started to open up about her strange past. I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe she realized that after all these years of running from it, that world has finally died off. Maybe she’s actually begun to look back at her life and miss what she had. I don’t really know, and I guess it’s not that important.

What is important for you, /x/, is that my grandmother ran away from the circus. And not just any circus. She ran away from a travelling medical show.

As always, I make no claims toward the truth behind these stories. Most of these are cobbled together from my great grandfather Max’s journal and the notes of his brother Arthur. Max may or may not have been somewhat of a drunk, and Arthur really only wrote about things his good nature and soft heart would never allow him to speak out loud. My grandmother gave my brother and me these journals a few summers ago, and I was hoping to get some scanned pages for you, but if I keep waiting for my brother to do that, you may never get to hear these stories.

What I do know for certain is that these people did exist. I’ve changed around some of the names and locations to protect those involved because it’s surprisingly easy to Google them. So whether or not you choose to believe Max’s stories, know that he is real, as is the show and the performers mentioned. The only thing I’m adding are some adjectives, transitions, and the supporting details my researching drummed up. The stories included are only a few from the years and years they spent on the road. These are the ones I find most /x/-related and in some cases most disturbing. I’ll start before my grandmother was born. If you like these stories, I’ll continue. If not, that’s fine too.

Wampus!! :D You came back!

While I’m no expert on anything relating to circuses or performances therein, here is what I know. Max and Arthur were brothers. Max was a bear of a man who spent his youth winning boxing championships and had hands so fast his favorite game was to dodge the hammers of men driving tent stakes into the ground. Arthur was more sensitive, a gifted musician and talented gymnast. Both were absolute gentlemen and both loved to put on a show.

The brothers somehow fell in with a man who went by the name of Doctor DuMonde (like the café in New Orleans). The Doc, as they called him, was likely not a real doctor, but he prided himself in his travelling show of medical wonders. The show featured acupuncture, herbal remedies, medical oddities, and the usual circus acts to catch the less scientifically minded. Arthur and Max performed as magicians, acrobats, clowns, assistants, barkers, and anything else the doc needed, while other performers included an amazing trick rider, a man who performed with bears and dogs, a sword swallower/fire breather, and a psychic.

Over their years together, DuMonde came to appreciate the fact that Max and Arthur’s many talents made them valuable allies, while the brothers came to appreciate the fact that the Doc was a couple rings short of a circus. Doc was forever hunting down medical oddities, if not to recruit them then to at least examine them. While he may not have held a medical degree, by the end of his life, no one could claim they knew more about the abject horrors the human body could produce. So when Max answered a knock on his wagon one early August morning, his stomach had good reason to lurch with unease.

“Max, my boy,” Doc greeted. “We have an errand to run.”

If you need a title, you can call this one “The Doctor’s Orders” or “What became of that unfortunate soul.” I don't know why you would, but I think that's pretty catchy, right?

Oh snap. How's your mom doing Wampus?

Bump for curiosity and love for medical curiosities.

Unlike the larger circuses that dominated the railroads, the little medical show still puttered along in the old ornate wagons and trailers. This made travel much harder but allowed for the doctor to make his own curious, meandering paths. Max often wondered how his life had been hitched to every whim of this strange little man, but as Arthur reminded him, if he really cared that much they could have just quit.
This particular detour had led them to a small town in eastern Iowa. A brutal drought left the fields near scorched, and summer heat made the small crowds sluggish and irritable. The morning sun had only just begun to crawl up above the treetops and already Max felt his shirt clinging to him. The Doc wore his standard three piece suit and kept time with a polished cane. The old man rarely ever showed the wear and tear of the roads. Probably because his trailer had an icebox.

As they made their way on foot, DuMonde informed Max that this was a house call. He was responding to a letter mailed by a desperate family seeking help for their unfortunate child. And why had he brought the former boxing champ along? Simple a precaution, rest assured. The young man had his doubts, but the farm house they were aiming for was no more run down than any other lonesome homestead in the middle of nowhere. As they approached, a solitary donkey sounded the alarm, and his braying brought the owner of the house out the door. He was a short, stout man with a weathered face and an unnaturally tired look. Max thought he saw others peering through the windows at them, but after very brief introductions, they were lead away from the house and over to a storm cellar.

Get back on the front page! I love these stories :3

“Heard about you coming to Des Moines last season,” the man explained. “Thought you might be able to do something about this.”

He threw back the cellar doors and led them down into the darkness. It was difficult to see much of anything with nothing but the morning light shining in to guide them. The stench down below was unreal. The unmistakable odor of rotting meat and feces reminded him of neglected monkey he had once seen locked in a barren cage. The only thing that kept him from gagging was the fear that the smell would get into his mouth, and even the decorous doctor covered his nose with a handkerchief. Once Max’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he realized there was a pile of badly stained blankets near the wall to their left amidst piles of dung and fly-ridden scraps he couldn’t identify. The farmer took a rake that had been resting near the stairs and poked at the lump.

The thing that shot out from beneath the blankets was such a confusing flurry of limbs that even Max had a hard time understanding what he was seeing. It was human, though really only by technicality. The boy crawled about on four twisted limbs, but a fourth and fifth leg jutted out from his midsection and right thigh respectively. Though shriveled, these forgotten appendages twitched and flexed as he scurried about. His mouth was torn by a severe cleft palette, though that didn’t stop him from hissing and snapping with teeth grown long and somehow sharp like rodent incisors. He was naked but covered in sores, growths, mud, shit, and rust colored stains Max didn’t want to think about. One eye bulged out slightly, causing it to look off in a different direction, though the odd shape to the iris raised doubts over its ability to see anyway. The boy darted wildly to the end of the rope that had been tied around his neck and presumably anchored somewhere out of sight. He nearly choked himself trying to reach for the three men, and when that didn’t work, he resorted to spitting and finally pissing at them.

“Don’t have a right mind,” the farmer said as he stepped away from the spray. “It’s our second boy, but you can see why we keep it down here. Eats just about anything and doesn’t do much but raise hell. Killing it would be a sin against the Lord though.”

Max had to hold his tongue to keep from asking what that made keeping the boy alive down there.

edge of my seat.... keep it coming!

“Very unfortunate,” DuMonde agreed.

He kept his face covered with the handkerchief, but leaned in as close as he could without getting hit. For a terrifying moment, Max thought the Doc might actually take the boy. While he understood wanting to put it out of its misery, accepting the thing instead meant trying to integrate it into the show. And that meant Max would have to deal with it.

“I am sorry,” DuMonde said finally. “While this is a very sad case, I’m afraid I have no room for such a child in my show.”

“What?” the farmer asked. His look of detached exhaustion gave way to a visible wave of grief and then rage. “You said you handled this kind of thing! You take these monsters off those folks’ hands! Now take this away!”

The man’s rising tone made his son launch into a frenzy of yowling and jumping. Max was more focused on the rake the farmer was brandishing, however. He stepped between the farmer and the doctor and took in a deep inhale. He instantly regretted doing so, but at least it puffed out his chest and straightened his spine. The farmer was no weakling by the looks of him, but Max was well over six feet and nothing but muscle. He stared the man dead in the eyes.

“Now, the doctor said there was nothing we can do. We’re real sorry about your son, but that’s all there is to it. If you don’t mind, we’ll be going now.”

Max let his words hang in the foul air between them for a moment before waving his hand for the man to lead them out. The farmer looked as though he might argue but swallowed whatever bile he had brewing and said not a word to them as they took their leave. The only response a farewell from the Doc got was a spit straight into the dust. The pair got the message and wasted no time getting back on the road and putting the house far behind them.

“Such a shame,” DuMonde murmured as the safety of their tents slowly came into view. “Such a poor, poor child.”
“I’m glad you didn’t take it though,” Max admitted. “I would have made you carry that thing back.”

If the story ended here, I’m sure that everyone would have had a good laugh, learned a little something, and the credits could roll safely. Obviously, that’s not the case. This wasn’t nearly the last time Max and DuMonde had to deal with the Unfortunate. Their troubles were only beginning.

Wampus! If I could hug you through the internet right now I would!

This thread better not end in bawww like last time. Seriously.

The next night, Arthur was called to the ticket booth by one of the few roadies that travelled with them. Max was tied up helping with the bears, and DuMonde had no interest in dealing with the ordinary nuisances of running the show. He approached the depressingly short line and was directed to a wooden box sitting off to one side.

“A wagon rolled up and dumped it off here,” the roadie explained. “They ran off before we could stop them. Thing split open and some kind of animal jumped out, but crawled off into the bushes faster than we could catch it.”

“What kind of animal?” Arthur asked, but the roadie only shrugged.

“Didn’t get a good look. It didn’t look like a dog though. Too big to be a cat. One lady said it might have been a person, but who knows.”
“Box’s firewood then, I guess,” Arthur replied.

Secretly he hoped it was a monkey. Arthur loved monkeys and never did understand why their show had horses, mules, bears, birds, and dogs but not a single monkey, especially now that Ringling had Gargantua the Gorilla. Later in the evening once everything had closed down for the night, he mentioned this to Max. Max went pale and stared at his brother as if he'd grown a third eye.

I am filled with worry and terror. Wampus is winning so many internets!

come on baby! post some moar ;3

“Was it a person? Did they see? Was there a man in that wagon?”

“I’m sure there was a man in the wagon,” Arthur answered. “Someone had to drive it.”

Max was in no mood to argue with his brother. Instead he rushed off to DuMonde’s trailer, and Arthur followed close at his heels demanding to know what was going on. When Max gave a hurried explanation, Art shut up and helped pound on the Doc’s door. Dumonde listened to their concerns with his usual stone-faced quiet. When they finished, the older man smoothed out his heavily waxed moustache and nodded.

“Gather the dogs. Tell the young ladies to remain in their wagons. Search the area for it, but if you find nothing, then I suppose we have nothing to worry about. “

Max roused Carl, the dog and bear trainer. Carl was a short man who loved alcohol and had been occasionally accused of letting his beloved bears drink with him. His dogs came in all shapes in sizes, and though he insisted during the act they were all purebreds, he had once admitted to Arthur they were nothing more than strays he couldn’t possibly turn away. They gathered up the four largest mutts and a couple of guns, and met up with the other roadies Arthur had called out. The only woman among them was Ellen the token bearded lady who was probably at least as strong as half the men there and refused to be left out of the fun.

>>3707711
More NOW!!

-rocks back and forth impatiantly-

ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap

More. That is all.

“We’re looking for…something,” Max tried to explain. “You’ll know it when you see it. Just be careful.”

“That narrows it down,” Arthur muttered helpfully.

They took up lanterns and fanned out through the brush surrounding the campgrounds. They’d taken up temporary residence in a lightly wooded area on the outskirts of the small town. Much to Max’s dismay there were plenty of places for an evil little monster to hide, and every rushing bush or snapping twig made him jump a good foot in the air. He wasn’t entirely sure what the boy could actually do to them, but the pit that was weighing down his stomach told him nothing good could come from this situation. Unfortunately, he didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Two men’s screams shattered the nighttime stillness, and Max and Carl went racing towards whoever was yelling. One voice rose above the other in obvious agony, and the pair tore through the bushes fueled by instinctive panic. They arrived close behind another search group, but that didn’t stop Max from nearly getting clubbed by a hammer.

“He broke my hand!” a roadie leaning against a tree wailed. “My hand!”

“There was a monster on you!” the one with the hammer insisted. Max took the weapon away from him anyway. The man’s eyes were wide with shock and terror.

“And then you broke my hand!” the injured man yowled.

The man had more than a broken had to worry about. According to the pair, a monster had rushed out of the bushes and attacked the man, clawing like a monster and ripping a good chunk out of his arm. In an effort to save his friend, the roadie had swing blindly but was too slow to connect with the creature and instead had shattered the poor victim’s hand.

>>3707819
moar?

caaaamon!

Max thought back to the conditions the boy had been held in and didn’t have the heart to tell the man about it. He ordered everyone else back to the camp. Searching the brush in the dead of night was just going to get more people hurt or worse. Instead they opted to lock doors, sleep with guns, and get the hell out of this place as soon as dawn hit. With all the yelling and nervous energy in the air, every animal in the show was riled up beyond hope and the humans weren’t all that much better. Max and Arthur found themselves sitting up in their trailers, playing cards and casting nervous glances out the window.

“Why would they dump that thing on us?” Arthur asked.

“Because they’re cowards,” Max replied. “They’re probably hoping we’ll kill it for them, and then we can go to hell instead.”

“Is it really that bad?” his brother asked.

“You can let me know if you get a good look at it,” was all Max would say.

Some time after midnight they had both managed to dose off. Max was fading in and out of restless dreams, and the incessant barking of Carl’s dogs kept jarring him back to the waking world. He had almost gone under for the last time when a sudden sharp yelp of pain and vicious growling made him leap out of his bed and grab his gun. Both he and Art flew out of their trailer, but though they were the closest and first to respond, they were already too late.

WHY SO SLOW

>>3707970

WHY SO IMPATIENT? give the guy some air, bro. he doesn't HAVE to post this story for us, but he's doing it anyway.

>>3707981

In the moonlight the Unfortunate was even more hideous than in the dark of the cellar. Its twisted spine heaved and pressed unnatural ridges against its skin, and the greasy, patchy hair on its head hung in oily ropes down to its shoulders. What skin wasn’t covered in blood and filth was a sickly white-gray, and its vestigial limbs were flicking wildly at the air. The monster had gotten one of the small dog’s cages open, and it was in the process of ripping the poor animal to shreds. When the boy jerked his head up to look at the brothers, the dog’s neck tore with a wet, meaty rip. The animal continue to try to yelp, but the only sound it could make were gurgling, trembling gasps as it shook and bled out.

Max was too stunned to quickly read his gun, but another figure was on the scene. Carl took one look at what the boy had done to his beloved dog, and the little man’s face actually grew red with wild fury. While the Unfortunate was distracted by the brothers, Carl took the opportunity to jump onto its back. The thing thrashed and howled, trying to buck the man off or at least get in a good gouging bite, but this was a trainer who routinely wrestled bears, both friendly and not. Carl bellowed out obscenities and slammed the boy’s misshapen skull into the remains of the cage, and when those gave way from the pummeling, he pounded the monster into the earth instead. There was finally a sickening crack as the Unfortunate’s skull split from the force. When Max and Arthur finally dragged Carl off the boy, only his frail, shrunken limbs still flexed reflexively at the night air.

>>3707981

She usually posts slow like this. She said her net is bad, and she's probably writing this on the fly which is kind of impressive.

Man this is awesome. And Wampus is a lady? Props to my fellow females.

I need sleep. I expect this to be archived.

By this time the whole camp was awake and watching the commotion. Doctor DuMonde made his way through the small crowd too look upon the remains of the fight. There was still a strip of the small dog’s neck between the boy’s rodent-like teeth, and Carl was now covered in blood and whatever else had been on the child. He was panting and staring at the body of his pet, making no effort to fight the brothers as they pulled him away. Pools of human and animal blood soaked into the dry ground beneath them.

“What a shame,” DuMonde said, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, Carl. Max, when you get a moment, carry the body to my office if you please.”

The Doctor’s office was a wagon where he held many of his exhibits. At least the ones that weren’t living. The walls were lined with shelves filled with glass jars and odd creatures pinned to the walls like grotesque butterflies. There were some workers who refused to set foot in the place, but after so many years the brothers had grown accustomed to the good doctor’s collection. Max had to wrap the corpse in a blanket to avoid touching the filth, and ignoring the smell and the unpleasant stiffening setting in by the time he gathered the courage to pick the monster up was no easy task.

The Doctor, however, could not have been more pleased. Not two days later, the stuffed and posed corpse had a place of honor on the wall behind his desk.

Wampus, why the hell does your family have so much weird stuff happen to them?

WAMPUS!!

Hey, was there any more Wampus and Often stories after the Swamp Witch?? If so, can someone post/link it to me? I haven't been on very much lately D:

>>3708115

I think there was one more after that? Someone has a mediafire of them all, but I can't upload the file :S

I'm glad you guys are enjoying it! I was a little worried about posting these stories since they're more disturbing than paranormal. If you like circus freaks and medical oddities though, I've got plenty on that front. Sorry if they're not quite my usual style. Some of this stuff I'm relying heavily on Max's journal for because I have no idea what I'm talking about.

>>3707319

She's good! She's out of the hospital, and she still thanks you guys for the Often art.

>>3708040

I'm a girl, yep.

>>3708115

Oh crap! Lemme check!

>>3707596
I second that, this story is awesome.

This has to get archived. What were the Often threads about?

>The monster had gotten one of the small dog’s cages open, and it was in the process of ripping the poor animal to shreds. When the boy jerked his head up to look at the brothers, the dog’s neck tore with a wet, meaty rip. The animal continue to try to yelp, but the only sound it could make were gurgling, trembling gasps as it shook and bled out.

I actually got a little sick reading this. In a good way, I mean.

Glad to hear from you again with good stories and even better news concerning your mother.

I find this circus life very interesting.

Is Wampus one of the old tripfags like Josef K and Howtokill/x/?

>>3708228

No no no no. I just posted some stories before about my mom and her friend named Often, and people asked me to post more stories about my family. Those guys are fantastic though.

To the person who asked, there's one more story after the Swamp Witch. It's just the ending to the whole bunch.

So are these stories real? Because wtf

>>3708248

Can you repost it? I don't think those stories ever got archived :(

>>3708248
Can you Post it? Or is it up somewhere else? I really wanted to know what happened.

good story, but definitely a fake

>>3708286

I can repost the whole thing if you guys want? Also if Wampus is okay with it.

is there a place where i can read all of your stories? or even just some of them?

>>3708340

There's not at the moment. Sorry!

>>3708332

I can repost it. I'd feel bad making someone else do it! I'll dump it all in just a second.

(Please note that this is unrelated to the first story in this thread! For those who don't know what it's about, one summer my mother met a strange swamp boy and they became friends. It's mostly about Southern folklore.)

August meant the approaching summer’s end. School was right around the corner, and Cat’s birthday was marching right along with it. In the weeks leading up to her party, Cat would occasionally have nightmares where the Swamp Witch chased her down a dark and crumbling hallway that never ended. She’d cackle and scream about the dangers of haints that looked like handsome boys. Meanwhile her days were filled with friends hoping to get in a last few days of play before school snatched them out of the forests and forced them back into uncomfortable shoes and desks shoved too close into stuffy rooms.

No matter what the day demanded of her though, Cat still found time to meet with Often. At first he had seemed worried that she might not want to play with him now that they were even, but Cat assured him that her kind of people played by different rules and that as long as he would have her, she’d be there. After that was established their games were back to normal. Often even had her bring the pony out a few more times. The horse was especially fond of Often, and piled onto its back, they could ride all over the forest and stir up trouble.

I’ve said that there were other stories between the ones I’ve told, but they’re mostly too short or childish to tell here. Honestly, most of these tales have blended in my mind over the years. I’m sure that my mother would be happy to retell them to me, but there’s something comforting about having that image frozen in my mind. I can hear the pony’s hooves on the soft earth, smell the summer pines around them, and see my mother as a young girl with her arms around her strange friend, both laughing as they ride away from the night time. I’m sure a part of this is just that for the past week or so I’ve seen my mom sick and older surrounded by a hospital. It’s nice to know that no matter what, a small part of her will never leave those woods. She’ll always been riding off into the sunset with a boy with wild golden curls.

Of course, that isn’t how they stayed. My mother’s birthday arrived with cake and barbeque, presents and music, friends and neighbors all gathered to enjoy the celebration. In such poor times there wasn’t much in the way of presents, but they made up for this by knowing how to throw a real party. The whole time Cat couldn’t quite get into the festivities the way everyone else did. She kept scanning the edges of the garden hoping to see Often’s grin. It wasn’t until later that evening that he came to her window and called for her to join him out in the woods. Excited to see what he might have planned for her, she quickly slipped out the window and off into the night with him.

“I don’t really understand birthdays,” Often admitted. “I never had one myself.”

“You have to have a birthday, Often,” Cat replied, giving him a shove. “Everything in the world does.”

“Maybe so,” he said with a grin.

They reached the log where Often had first showed her the Ghost Lights. It was rotted and soft in some places now, but there was still enough space to sit together. Cat leaned against his side and almost rested her head on his shoulder as they sat and watched the fireflies. The first of the lights flashed out in the swamp and danced among the trees as if no time had passed between the two nights.

“Summer’s ending,” Often finally said.

Cat nodded gently.

“Pretty soon they’ll move on for the winter,” he continued, motioning to the group of lights now dancing closer and closer to them.

“Will you go with them?” Cat asked. Her heart began to ache without warning.

“I didn’t used to,” Often said. “I used to stay here some and watch for snow.”

He kept his head down and looked at the little mirror she’d rescued from the Swamp Witch. The troubled creases in his brow shone in the reflected moonlight. The haunting song of the lights was growing louder around them, and Cat could feel their pull deep within her. She couldn’t imagine what Often might be feeling in response to it. The boy suddenly looked up and locked eyes with her, his gaze full of concern and fear and sadness and determination.

“I could stay here with you,” he said. “I could stay a little longer. As long as I could.”

Cat knew that his offer was true. Often would stay with her if she asked him to. He might be able to ignore the call of his own family for the rest of the summer until they left. In time he might even have learned to ignore the lights’ call forever and remained and grown old and lived just like any other boy in her town. That was the gift he was offering her.

But the torment in his eyes was too much for her to look at and the thought of Often’s youth fading away and someday dying all because of her own selfish wants threatened to break her heart much worse than losing him would.

“You can’t stay here, Often,” she whispered. “You need to be with your folks.”

Never good at hiding his emotions, a look of relief washed over the boy’s face followed closely by a wave of guilt that forced him to turn from her. He got up and stood at the banks of the marsh, flooded thanks to some fierce storms from the ocean. She stood too and pressed herself close to him, trying to burn every second she had left into her mind. He took her hand, though his eyes were now following the lights dancing around them. This close, they looked like puffs of fog illuminated with round lanterns. They leapt from the murky waters and wove trails, always reaching out for the clear sky.

“Then come with me,” he said. “We’re friends. We don’t have to be apart. You could come with me and my folks and then you never have to become an old woman. You wouldn’t ever be sick or sad. You never have to go away again. Then we could always play.”

Cat watched the dancing lights and listened to their inviting song. She thought of all the stories her mother had told her about girls running away with fairies and dancing forever. She thought about the wonders of the night time swamp and how lovely the place they went to in winter must have been. She thought about Often’s pale hand in her own and never having to be away from him. Sadly she also thought about her mother and father and sister. She saw the faces of her friends and the adventures before her. There was a whole life here that she’d miss out on.

Cat gently shook her head. “I gotta be with my folks too.”

>>3708402

The first paragraph made me get all teary-eyed. Baww.

Often sighed as if he knew that she’d say so. He gave her hand a squeeze and leaned over to plant Cat’s first real kiss on her lips. Without another word he pulled away from her and went splashing out into the muddy water. In an instant his curls were out of sight. In another minute not even the ripples he’d created were left.

“Often?” Cat called out.

Her only answer was the sound of frogs and crickets. A few bats let out distant screeches, and after what seemed like an eternity without even an air bubble from the boy, Cat paced along the bank of the swamp wondering if she shouldn’t dive in after. She tried to tell herself that this was just another trick. He’d come rushing back out all muddy and they’d run off together once more.

Suddenly from the spot where she had last seen Often, another ghost light rose up. It was pale gold and flickered like the strange boy’s eyes. It hovered before Cat’s eyes, and she watched it till tears began to cloud her vision. Cat sat and watched the ghost lights dance and sing over the swamp for a very long time. She didn’t move from the spot where she and Often and sat until the dawn crept over the tops of the trees. One by one the ghost lights blinked out. The very last one to leave was the golden orb. When it vanished, Cat gathered herself up and walked back to her house for breakfast.

My mother never once went back to watch the Ghost Lights, though plenty of other people reported seeing them. As soon as she was old enough, she left the small town and went off to college. After a hurricane destroyed their home, her parents also left the small town in favor of more temperate weather closer to the shore. Sometimes after hearing these stories I’ll ask my mother if she ever misses Often or wished she’d chosen differently. Every time my mother would smile, kiss my forehead, and tell me that summer can never last forever. If she’d gone off with him, she never would have had me, and she loves my father so much her heart should like to burst.

Still, I know the way she tells the stories about her time with the strange boy from the Kin Folk. I’ve seen the way she clutches the buckeye in her pocket. You know what, /x/? I bet somewhere there’s a golden light that dances around the swamp and sings just a little sadder than all the rest.

Oh God, the ending to Often ;_;

Will you be posting more circus stories soon?

Oh great. Now I want to read the stories behind Often.

>>3708437

Someone needs to make these stories into a movie

>>3708450

Ahh Wampus, you made me cry. That was so goddamn beautiful. This needs to be a movie, or at least a published book.

>>3708441

Yeah, I was really worried about my mom when I wrote that. I posted those to pass the time while she was in the hospital.

>>3708462

I will if you guys want! I have to go soon now, but I'll be happy to write up more and post them tomorrow. I have one that makes my stomach turn a bit. It's, in my opinion, the most unbelievable out of the bunch, but it's also the most bizarre.

>>3708505
Please do!

>>3708505

Well I'm happy to hear the your mom's doing better.

And yes, do share. Your stories are incredible.

We need more Often fanart.

someone archive this.

>>3708516
>>3708514

Will do. Tomorrow night I think will be the Forest Demon and Weaver's Wonders. You guys will like my greatgrandfather and uncle if you liked Often. They were really unique people.

>>3708561
yes!! thank you so much, I can't wait.

>>3708561

Yayy. Thanks, Wampus.

Thanks for your request.
It has been added to our database and the thread will be archived as soon as enough request for that thread have been made.
This thread has been requested 2 times now.

For those who don't know how to archive, it's this simple!

Go here: http://4chanarchive.org/
Click on request interface over to the left
Put in thread ID 3707206
Make sure you selected /x/
Submit!

>>3708603

Thanks for your request.
It has been added to our database and the thread will be archived as soon as enough request for that thread have been made.
This thread has been requested 4 times now.

>>3708561

I think Max and Arthur is a pretty cool guys. eh works for scary fake circus doctor and doesn't afraid of anything!

Thanks for your request.
It has been added to our database and the thread will be archived as soon as enough request for that thread have been made.
This thread has been requested 5 times now.

Just a couple moooooore!

Also Wampus, want to give us some hints for what these stories will be able? Mostly medical oddities and stuff?

Thanks for your request.
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>>3708647

7

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>>3708657

Someone give this Anon a prize!

Also, I can't freaking wait for Max and Arthur art. These sound like they're going to be awesome stories.

a prize? why? I just requested it like the rest of you I just happen to have been the seventh one.

Wampus, dunno if youre still here but this stuff is freaking fantastic, you should be published you definitely have the skills to be a professional writer, Im completely enraptured. Good luck to you and to your mother.

>>3708673

There's going to be incestuous, gay Rule 34. I can just sense it.

/k/ just got a mod again, finally, and he cleaned up the place in about three nights. Maybe Mootles will grant us one... and we can see more like this.

Wampus. Put all these up somewhere at the very least. I know this has been brought up millions of times... but seriously, this shit is wonderbar. DOIT!

>>3708756
ack NO, do NOT do this... jesus christ.
This shit is gold, it's irrelevant whether its true or not, do NOT put this shit up in a large public manner until you've secured copyright or something or talked to a pulisher in some way... this stuff is valuable, dont lose an opportunity here

I'm really flatter guys. Thank you! I wish I had more stuff prepared, but I sort of posted this on a whim.

>>3708643

Not all of them. The story about the Forest Demon involves the psychic. Weaver's is about another circus. I'm also researching some stuff on Arthur that doesn't have as much to do with the medical oddities.

>>3708730

Personally, I'll post whether or not we have a mod. I love /x/, and my hope is that these stories will help it in some way even if it just means encouraging more people to ignore the trolls and post their own work. /x/ is full of incredibly talented people and interesting information.

>>3708756

She's said in the past that she only writes this for /x/ and feels weird about posting a blog for it. She really should look into just cleaning them up and getting them published.

>>3708801

*flattered hurf

Oh man Wampus, where is your creepy troll stalker who used to post in all your threads? Seems kind of incomplete without him.

Awesome story though. It's cool to see you go into darker stuff.

I actually got pretty creeped out. How hard is it to go from writing cute mushy stories to messed up gore stories exactly? I've never actually tried.

bump

Wampus :D

ohly shit ohsome!


wait, Often fanart?

>>3708801
Yeah, this is actually one of the most intelligent boards on 4chan -- for whatever that may be worth, LOL. So is /k/. Which is probably why we're allies. That and the common fascination with the impending zombie holocaust.

>>3709163

There's a little out there, but not that much

I like how we can go from people flipping out over a /b/ raid and saying /x/ is dead. Then people like Wampus post some good OC and new OC comes flooding in after :3

>>3709891

It's like she said. /x/ is really talented. We just have get out there and get the content flowing instead of sitting back and waiting for moot to save us.

I feel like I'm late to the game, but that was a freaking good story OP

If the Unfortunate isn't the creepiest thing you've got in these stories, I'm pumped to see what else is coming.

All I have is MSPaint. But here's The Unfortunate.

Also only a mouse to draw with. Wish I had a tablet!

WAMPUS! :D

it sounds like your "friend" was lying wen they said u had commited suicide, Wampus. its good to have u back

>>3708450
The Often Ending makes me cry every time.

Wampus you know how to tug the heartstrings.

PLEASE WRITE A BOOK!!!

>>3709993

Someone said she committed suicide?