Topic: [WoD]Madness Spins Like A Loom  (Read 1518 times)

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  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
[WoD]Madness Spins Like A Loom
« on: March 03, 2012, 07:45:10 pm »
AN: I finally decided to contribute something to Scarlet Library, seeing as I fancied myself a writer but never submitted anything here. =v=;;
This is my first venture into the horror genre, and I hope you enjoy it. As most of it is free writing, it might be a bit rough.
Madness Spins Like a Loom
A Geist: The Sin Eater fanfiction.

Wretched lives bound within flesh too weary to properly bear it. Wishes carried in slashed hands, flowing through fingers like sand. Gears twist and turn in an endless spiral, and a porcelain mask hangs from loosened, rottened strings. The barest glimpses of a fetid face are hidden by the wide brim of a tattered hat. There is no body, merely a torso bound in rusted metal and disembodied mechanical arms, bent into unnatural positions and hanging as if suspended by strings.

The crumpled form rises slowly, pulled up by an unseen puppetteer. Fingers wrap around his chin and pull it up.

Lips part, quivering. Tears fall, a cruel warmth in this vortex of chill. A voice calls out, cracked and afraid.

'I...I don't want to hurt anymore.'

A smile, curled like the crescent moon, is painted by invisible hands onto the mask. A voice responds, honeyed and dangerous.

'I want to make you scream.'

He stirs from his coma and gasps into cold air. It's damp and chilly, musky with the scent of wet cloth and fungus. His vision swims and throbs, dizzy with pain. Why was he here? Why did it hurt?

Chains bound around his wrists rattle, seemingly in response. 'Ah...yeah...I died, didn't I?'

Hours of torture. His family too...those sacks of flesh that sat on the tables near him were testament to that. And countless others.

A door opens, a voice following. He's already heard too much of that voice. "Now then, let's see how you're doing..."

'It hurts.'

The murderer pulls his face up, closely examining his face. "Hmm, seem to still be conscious. I wonder how much more you can handle?"
A strange presence begins to grow around him.

'It all hurts.'

His tormentor walks off to pick at some instruments. Probably to choose the next one to use. "Your parents reacted quite well to this one..."
The chains stir and begin to shake, rust forming at in the links at an alarming pace.

'I want it to stop.'

He sees the man smile. Was the fact that the smile seemed genuine more disturbing or disgusting? He didn't know. "Of course, your father was quite the hardy man."
Red flakes fall from the bindings. Soon they're weak enough to just fall apart, so his newly freed arms limply to his side.

'I want it to stop hurting.'

Turning to face him, his murderer smiles. "Let's begin...shall...we...?"

The hesitance is understandable. What does one do when faced with an experiment, a test subject, a toy suddenly being free from its bonds? What does one do when those same bonds bob and weave through the air like rusted iron snakes?
His power grips the chains, grips the metal in the room, grips all the tools of torture and suffering around him.

A hand reaches out.
A hand reaches out.


It clenches.
It clenches.

Something about the room seemed different, he notices. Something...subtle. An extra corpse? The fresh coating of red? Who knew. He didn't.

Feet drag slowly and bring him to his destination after what seems like forever. His hand leisurely grips the handle, leaving a crimson print, then he opens the door to the outside. He steps forward once, then twice. To the sunlight he has not seen in weeks, and he faces it head on. Even as that light is reinforced by the sirens and red and blue lights of police, he does not wince.

It doesn't hurt anymore.

A smile, curled like the crescent moon, twists his lips.
« Last Edit: March 04, 2012, 12:55:27 am by Amra »
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra


  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
Re: [WoD]Madness Spins Like A Loom
« Reply #1 on: March 04, 2012, 12:49:59 am »
--Five Years Later--
"...Yeah. Thanks. Mmhmm. Yeah, I'll be in touch. Later." The phone clacks shut. He looks up at the apartment block, shielding his eyes from the sun's glare.
"Have we arrived?"

He smiles. "Yup. The truck with our stuff should be here soon."
It smiles. "Good."

"Feed me."
"Later." Boxes are sliced open and items are set aside. The long and arduous task of moving house begins, but with the promise of a new job and a new life, he's more than willing to endure this torture.

"We're empty."
"I realise. Don't worry. It's all around us, after all. The death."

It's a simple studio, maybe fifty years old. The paint is peeling, the foundation a little rickety, the windows slightly loose, the piping from the boiler loud. Maybe that's why it was so cheap.
The essence of death was heavy here. A murder, maybe twenty or so years ago? The echoes of it, violent and sudden, reverbate throught the aparment. They see it as a blurry image. Hands around a throat. Hands around a cleaver. Hands around a gun.

Hands around nothing, drenched in blood.

It was obvious why it was so cheap. Mundanes wouldn't be able to handle the eerie presence, the 'echo' of the death here.

Aaah, it didn't matter. The location was nice, the neighbourhood was quiet, and he was close to his job.
The actual ghost of the victim was gone, for whatever reason, so that was another thing.
Lots of things nearby, lots of things within easy reach. No need to use public transport or anything; walking was enough.
Very convenient, actually. The age of this place, and its lack of tenants, gave it a certain presence. An...edible one. For them.
Ultimately, a great deal. Just the kind of thing for someone fresh out of college. And, thus, for them.

Just the sort of thing the two of them needed.

"So you can have it finished by tomorrow afternoon?"

"Mm...yeah. No problem. Do you want a paper copy too? Any particular formatting or spacing I should use?"

"Uh, nah. Just get in in, alright? Pleasure to be working with you."


Another pointless conversation between an employee and an employer. But fun, in its own way. It gave him purpose beyond what he did at night. Purpose that could stand unhindered in the sunlight, that could show its face amongst other humans.

He pats the head of the raggedly dressed little girl that clings to his side, disguising the motion as a stretch of the wrist. "Just a little longer."

The child nods, then buries herself deeper into his clothing. No one notices the odd shifting of his shirt or pants, or perhaps no one wants to. He couldn't see through their eyes; not anymore, anyway. Not since he woke up in that room, alone yet not.

And so the day continues...

...until night reigns. As much as he wanted to remain in the day, the night was his world in the end. The suitcase at his side rattles with the grinding of gears, stirring as if alive.

"Now then, where was that bad man?" he says quietly, gently carrying the child along.

His ward points at a large, looming factory and shivers once before disappearing. Looking at the building, he could definitely feel a presence there. An unwelcome one, foreign to the natural order of life. And oh so welcome to the natural order of death.

He smiles.
It smiles.
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra

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