Alice Nightray was a seemingly normal girl until she fell down the Rabbit Hole. Everything she has ever...
No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart ✖Humor is my forte ✖Multiples of 3 are my favorite ✖Morbid/Social anxiety/Paranoid ✖Loathes unwanted, loud noises ✖Don't like feet especially touching ✖Used to hate talking & sometimes still do ✖Shows: Criminal Minds_American Horror Story_Hannibal ✖Movies: Amélie_DC/Marvel_Tim Burton_John Hughes_Cloud Atlas_Memoirs of a Geisha ✖Loves: Learning_Autumn/Winter_Cardigans_Rain_DC/Marvel_Black humor_animation Musical interests:Daughter_Cut Off Your Hands_Panic! At the Disco_Lydia_Marina & The Diamonds_Paramore_The Dear Hunter Literary interests:Neil Gaiman_Cassandra Clare_Holly Black_Rachel Caine_Ray Bradbury_Edgar A. Poe_F. Scott Fitzgerald_J.D. Salinger Radical people: @xxcrimsonxshellxx @_MyOnlyRemedy_ COPYRIGHT: All my works are copyrighted under the Copyright,Designs and Patents Act 1988.This includes all chapters,prologues/epilogues and associated content (i.e fanfics,teasers and content within blogs, social networks and eReaders).Any unauthorised copying,broadcasting,manipulation,distribution or selling of this work constitutes as an infringement of copyright.Any infringement of this copyright is punishable by law. "The books are to remind us what asses and fools we are. They're Caeser's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, "Remember, Caeser, thou art mortal." Most of us can't rush around, talking to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book. Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in anyone thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore." Fahrenheit 451
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Description: The Attic is the home to all of the pitiful, lost souls that have died, whether it be from suicide, an unsolved murder, or something even more gruesome. And no living being has ever been there...until now.
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