Willem Indigo
Bio
I spend substantial efforts diving into the unexplainable, the strange, and the bewilderingly blasphamous from a wry me, but it's a cold chaotic universe behind these eyes and at times, far beyond. I am Willem Indigo: where you wanna go?
Stories (63/0)
First Date
Many who know of me and the niche of study my journalistic integrity endures wildly brings me into the faces of many broken, twisted, unstable, intriguing, or plain freakish oddities in human form. I remain crude to remain social leveling with their off-centered biases, upsetting others in my field who can’t take the risky behavior that radiates poor outcomes with every question I pose. These Rock stars, eccentric Nascar drivers, or agoraphobic architects winning awards but call to say they’re in a DMT coma and can’t pick it up until the Titan’s orbit reverses the tides. These tasks I’ve taken to bring to light the strange, the unknowable, the fringes, ugly cursed stepchild have been to broaden the horizons of the dark and fanciful that exist inches from your daily lives. Not all of it pans out to anything more than some coo-coos with talent no one needs, according to readers of my last few stories, but the wait is over. It’s been three years since my time wrestling with the unfathomable antics of The Whiskey Hotel during their Witchy Bombardment European tour, and now I’ve finally got in contact with another bonified anomaly. She’s known as Detective Alice Scarlett.
By Willem Indigo2 years ago in Fiction
In the Ring
Drunken punch choke-out sex is not for the faint of heart. She may want you to choke her, but you have to retain the low enough self-esteem to not only let her beat you like a rowdy slave but also to still finish when she does, just cause; like it makes a fucking difference. You go to work the next morning bloody, with scars and bruises, ignoring the rumors birthed from sheer speculation alone, and do your daily routine like a good worker bee. Explaining that the so-called love of your life finds it fun to inflict pain on you tends to draw a lot of unwanted attention. You tolerate her for a few reasons. One, because Sonya can score the best opioids from “work,” so pain is nothing more than an afterthought, but more importantly, she keeps you from feeling alone. Something that tends to cause you to overreact even as a lonely kid.
By Willem Indigo2 years ago in Filthy
Cult of Ded Moon
Cult of Ded Moon There weren’t always dragons in the valley. However, romanticizing the good old days doesn't solve the infestation problem for the occupants of Ded Moon. Despite being nestled between two mountain regions, vast lush fields surrounded the city, rising from plateau to plateau amongst the mountainside, and the tip was all anyone could see. Tourists of Crazy Peak can look down at the canyon below to witness the unexplainable lights and seismic activity, referring to the vacant fog as ‘All Fears from the Nothingness. Recent fire breath accompanied by roars with visible sound waves deafening those in a three-mile radius happened quarterly, yet attempts to suss out the source forever fall short. Venturers rarely come back from a half a day’s hike down without several weeks missing upon their return; they described the city as peaceful with modern amenities and even a few cell towers at opposite ends of the canyon that the state of Montana approved if never sanction. According to the state’s representatives, Crazy Mountain, the most eastwards of the Rocky Mountain area, there’s nothing to acknowledge about the dark spot so void-like that satellites have never picked the lights witnesses to claims lie below. It’s a position the governor must share with which ever sitting president is dodging the questions or shifting the conversation away no matter the context. This has led to a hundred and twenty-three disappearances throughout the last eight presidents as the anomalies are effectively charted by brave private citizens while very poorly vetted.
By Willem Indigo2 years ago in Fiction