Five Minutes to Midnight Hub
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Five Minutes to Midnight


I walk, I crawl – What am I? What am I?

I rise, I fall – What am I? What am I?

Ten legs, five hearts - What am I? What am I?

Dead souls, spare parts - What am I? What am I?

It's the riddle of the sphinx, no one gets out alive

Puzzle harder than she thinks, cause the answer is Five

- Chorus of "Riddle of the Sphinx", Midnight Blossom

Five damaged characters. Five slices of life diving more and more into the anomalous side of things from 2009 to 2022, over a background of dying (then reborn) Emo/Scene subculture. Cringe. Glitter. Anomalous piercings. Emojis. Space cults. Literary screamo. Self-harm. Fluorescent prosthetics. Pancakes. Physical and abstract horror.

But after all, it's probably just a phase.


Status of the Series :

Type of series : Closed
Status : Finished
Author : DrJohannesDrJohannes
Number of Tales : 5 (plus 4 interludes)


"Seriously, the next time he screws up a practical demonstration, we should all get up and leave. Don’t you agree?" he insisted, clicking his pen.

"Fuck no. Imagine we're the only two assholes who get up?" she said while continuing to untangle the wires of her headphones.

Cyril shrugged. "I heard the sophomores from MPI class did it with their English teacher."

"I also heard the sophomores from MPI class are a bunch of fucking liars."


"I don't understand how that's possible," said Cyril, echoing Ada's thoughts as she mentally ran through all the chemical possibilities for achieving such a chromatic effect on human skin, and discarded them one after the other.

"Me neither!" exclaimed Astro. "Nobody understands how it works! All I know is that as soon as I was told about it, I knew it would be my thing."


"The noisier the better," he said, rearranging a stack of cups.


"Seriously. Without all the noise, I feel super empty. You know that feeling when the bass vibrates so low you can feel it all the way to the back of your ribs? That's when I feel really alive."

He smiled again with all his teeth, the fluorescent prosthesis serving as the final point of his sentence.


She took his hand, which was shaking even more than hers.

Hurried footsteps on the stairs. Voices.

"You remember Burt's drawings in Mary Poppins?" he said hastily, looking over his shoulder.

"When they jump into the draw-" Ada began, but he had already leapt forward and she felt herself falling after him.


There were currently two thousand people between them and her. And the last song of the set began.

The compressed spring of the audience's energy tightened a little more, at the risk of imploding the whole mechanism. Very recognisable chords rang out, followed by an urgent and desperate synth line. A hysterical laugh escaped from Ada's throat. Of course it was. Of course the last song was The End is a Beginning. What else?


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