Hey there. Now i just want a decent woman and im gone find her soon, not waiting anymore. If you have ever thought about finding someone else or even just messageting with someone else, message with me.
|Relationship Status:||Not married|
|Seeking:||Seeking Private Sex|
|Relation Type:||Lonely Married Women Wanting Divorced Dating|
Please leave a number and a good time 2 reach you and send a photo if you can ,,,,,,,Thanks for seeking.
I am alone, successful and live alone. Do i try yes do i wish i was better yes. Clean, ddf- hivboy here.
NSA fun Tired of all the fake posts. Needs a blowjob m4w i'm just an average boy that is feeling a little stressed lately.
Normal man for Normal Friends m4m I am just a simple man in a simple world waiting for simple friends. If you are seeking for the same, please contact me./p>
What a weird name. Their avatar, signature, and everything else in their profile was sugary, cutsey pink. Their avatar was a baby kitten with angel wings on a pink cloud. I nearly gagged with how overly sweet this was. I took note that her profile was fully fleshed out, but they had no posts or any other sort of interaction with the site, from the looks of things. The message they'd sent me was something that didn't exactly make any sense to me until much later. I figured this might just be spam or something, so I just deleted the message and went about my business.
What a persistent and oddly specific spam bot. I'd never seen a spam bot employ continuity before. But again, I feared it was still spam and simply deleted the message. Maybe I'd respond if they messaged me again. Message me again, they did. The day after that, I received another message. This time, a bit different than the last ones.
This couldn't be a spam bot. No spam bot can guess your name. It could've just been a lucky guess, but holy shit that would be the king of all coincidences. I was apprehensive to respond to this girl. I had no idea who she was or how she knew who I was. There was something very suspicious about this whole thing.
I decided to contact a forum moderator. I explained to the mod that I'd never told anyone online my name and had nothing connecting my real life to my internet life and that there was no way they would know it was me, even if I did know them in real life.
After a short while, the mod got back to me. According to them, the messages were being sent from my IP address. I insisted that that had to be a mistake. Was somebody pirating my internet or something? Would that even lead to them registering as the same IP? At this point, I decided to ignore her. It was better to simply cut all ties with her now. Something weird was going on, but putting it entirely in the past would get me out of that, right? I decided I'd simply go to bed then.
The police say it was a homicide. Details of his death will not be discussed any further here. Chunnofloy was the mod I asked for help with "Danielle". Now this was way too much to be a coincidence. I didn't want to read the thread.
I couldn't shake the feeling that "Danielle" was somehow involved in this. If I was right, I involved him in it and got him killed. I didn't want to read the thread and see the sadness in the people whose friend I may have taken away. I didn't read the thread until I noticed something that chilled me a bit.
I decided I'd send her a message. Now it was time for the police to get involved. It became obvious to me at this point that she'd somehow found out Chunnofloy ran her IP check and killed him for it. How did she know? I contacted the police and showed them the PMs between me and her, and how she essentially confessed involvement in Chunnofloy's death. They took it into consideration and said they'd get back to me on it.
They got back to me on it a few days later. They said they'd found my fingerprints at the crime scene. Chunnofloy lived in Michigan, somewhere I've never been and don't live anywhere near.
How the hell could my fingerprints be there? Now things were making less sense than ever. The police considered me a suspect, but not a strong one, even with the physical evidence.
They placed his death at 9: The police understood that there was no way I could have made it up to Michigan, committed a murder, and made it back home in a few hours, all without anybody noticing. The investigation hit a roadblock, as the person the evidence was screaming toward had an indisputable alibi, and combined with the IP address thing, there was no evidence that the other suspect even existed.
The police were under the impression that I'd been sending those messages to myself, but had no answers as to how I could have committed the murder.
Up in the corner of my King's Bazaar page, I saw something that made me double take. My little mail icon indicated 26 new messages. All 26 of those messages were listed as having been sent in a span of about a minute and a half.
Something was really wrong about this. I've never posted any pictures of myself anywhere online, not even on Facebook. I decided I wanted nothing to do with this anymore. I decided I'd leave King's Bazaar, and block her just to be safe. I tried to go on with my life, what little I had.
For weeks, I chatted up a few people I knew from high school, moved on to a new site, kept a fairly low profile.
The new site I got into was Black Pond Road. It was a simple place, similar to King's Bazaar. I befriended a guy named Brusk. Brusk was a smart guy who knew a lot about the site's subject, although he was a bit of a grammar Nazi. A few weeks after I became involved in Black Pond Road, I saw something that made my blood go cold for a few seconds.
How could she have followed me here? I wasn't even using the same screen name. How was she tracking where I was going? I thought about reporting her to the site's staff, telling them that she was a person who had harassed me in the past, but I knew that doing that might get somebody else killed. Within minutes of joining the site, her profile page was already completely filled out with all of the sugary, pink details from King's Bazaar.
I watched apprehensively for days. She never made any move. She never contacted me or posted anything. I began to try and distance myself from Black Pond Road, but didn't want to drop out of it completely. I would do that when I needed to. For months, I went on without anything odd happening. Danielle seemed content simply observing what I was doing.
I began to have odd dreams. A young black-haired girl would walk into my bedroom while I was sleeping and "entertain" me. She looked to be in her late teens or early 20's. I had no idea why I kept having this dream. I'd never really had recurring dreams before, but considering its subject matter, I didn't really mind. One day in June, I got a message from Trent. He asked me how my new girlfriend was doing.
Still intent on keeping up the masquerade, I told him she was doing fine. He asked me what her name was. For some reason that I still cannot explain, I told him her name was Danielle. When the conversation was over, I wondered out loud why the fuck I did that. From what I'd gathered, Danielle seemed to be watching me, so saying that would probably fuel her fire. I knew I would have to watch what I said from now on. I still have no clue how she could possibly be watching me, but I was positive that she was.
I blocked her on Black Pond Road as well. I had no idea if that would accomplish anything, but I did it anyway. I had to find some way of getting away from her.
Being pursued was cool and all, but not by somebody who was apparently willing to kill. Three days went by with no contact from Danielle.
On that third day, Trent contacted me. The subject came up, and I told him that I'd broken up with Danielle. He said that was too bad and the subject was dropped. What else could I do? It was the best way to avoid talking about her. I had to make it clear that she wouldn't be getting what she wanted. A few days later, Trent sent me a link to a news story.
A girl named Megan Harris from my town was found murdered. The murder was described less as murder and more as a torture session. They said she was found strapped to a table, naked, with her mouth and eyes sewn shut. She had sharp objects stuck in almost every square inch of her skin. According to the autopsy, somebody smashed her teeth in through her sealed lips with a blunt object, probably a hammer, forcing her to choke on the pieces of her teeth. Megan Harris was the first girl I ever had a crush on, back in second grade.
That was also the last time I'd ever even seen her. This fact lead me to believe that Danielle may have somehow been involved again. The place I went to high school, the town I'm originally from, was nowhere near Michigan or where I live now. If Danielle was really the killer, whoever she was, she really got around. But the troubling part is that there's no way she could have known that I was ever interested in Megan. Nobody could have known that. I never told anybody and I didn't even remember it until I found out she died.
Not only does Danielle know more than she should, she knows more than is even possible. Now I was starting to get truly scared.
I was no longer asking who Danielle was as much as what she was. This was no longer strange, now it seemed truly unnatural. While I was attempting to think of something else to say to him, he messaged me back again.
In the meantime, I began talking to Brusk. As I was talking to Brusk, he said something that raised a red flag. I blocked the Brusk account right there. She'd killed somebody else I knew, I assumed.
What could I do? Would she just keep killing people? He included a link to a news article. A porn star named Cheyenne Pepper was found murdered on the set. She'd been stabbed a grand total of times. Without sounding too weird, Cheyenne Pepper was my favorite porn star. The weirdest thing about the case was that the studio was actually running when it happened.
Cheyenne had apparently only been on set alone for a few minutes before she was found that way. There was no struggle, no suspects, no nothing. I once again couldn't help but assume Danielle had something to do with this. Trent ended the conversation after a little bit more banter. He said he was tired and went to bed. Who the fuck was this Danielle girl? I opened my Black Pond Road window and decided I'd try something.
I unblocked Danielle's account, allowing anything she'd posted or sent to me to be visible. I flipped through the messages.
It just goes on like that for the rest of the chain. This person, or whatever she was, was truly deranged. I re-blocked her and went to bed. She was driving me crazy. I lied to Trent.
I told him I was dating somebody to make myself look good. We were never together because you aren't supposed to be real. They found Brusk's body stuffed in his bedroom closet. His head had been cut in half with a saw, the top half was found in his lap. It could have been edited out to be a page quick read. It can be debated upon, but I was not convinced by several actions of the characters in the book. At times, it felt that they were manipulated to satisfy what Durjoy Datta had in mind.
This brings me to another major issue with the book. I simply could not connect with any character. It is all about the one book Daman is writing. I had seen that coming miles away and therefore, the last section of the book completely failed to amuse me as a reader. It was unbelievably blunt and stretched. I usually rate a book higher even if the climax can surprise me or leave me thinking.
The book has extremely little to offer in those over stretched context. It has his signature explicit descriptions of the intimate moments and a couple of curses in Hindi which is also a trademark of DD , which were both not required. So I expected all good things about the book.
But it was good to see that you stayed honest with your opinion about the book. But thats just my opinion. I am sure he has a huge fan following out there. This is a review for the readers. You did a favor to the readers. I liked how you gave the due compliment where it was needed. Your email address will not be published. The Girl of My Dreams Author: October 15th Language: Indian Authors Thriller Book Reviews.
Dear John — Book Review. In a World Without You — Day 0. Anmol Rawat Anmol Rawat is a writer, which, considering where you are reading this, makes perfect sense. He would kill for a good cup of Cappuccino, as should all right thinking people. You Also Might Like.
Girl of My Dreams. Edit. History I feared it was still spam and simply deleted the message. Maybe I'd respond if they messaged me again. Message me again, they did. The day after that, I received another message. She looked exactly like the girl that had been appearing in my dreams. "Danny, I'm so happy to see you." she said. I didn't. Maybe they were Prophetic Dreams, or his dreaming of his own time. Maybe it was Telepathy on her part. Or maybe they happened to meet each other's consciousness in a collective Dream Land. The Girl of My Dreams Lyrics Last night after we broke up and i left for the last time, i stopped in a grocery to see if i might find the girl of my dreams, maybe weighing some tangerines. but it.