Mask
I float through space aimlessly. No, float isn't the right word. Neither is space, for that matter. I wish I could say that one of those two words held true about where I am. But, alas, my wish is not granted. Not here, at least. I exist here in a manner that provides few sensations to my senses. I cannot see, hear, taste, or smell anything. The provided information from these senses is not in the form of nothing, but I don't have those senses to give any information. I can feel, and that is all. This place, however, is not one where feeling means much. I float, for lack of a better term, in a sludge of meandering thought.
I wonder how many people would take that as a metaphor. But, it is not. I am only a mind at the moment, my body left to the devices of another. However, these thoughts are not mine or theirs. The thoughts I drift through right now are the snippets of imagination left in the back of people's minds. The concepts one thinks of for an instant, before forgetting them again, to drift to the edge of one's perception. These are what I find myself in at the moment. Occasionally, if someone knows how, a piece of this grand ocean is pulled back up to the realm of the living, the awakened. A dream, remembered for more than an instant, an invention given form, or even a story, put to paper, all minor things, but they pull on this place. I know this because I know this place, I was trapped in this place, and I rebuilt myself in this place.
For, what better place to hide something than an ever-changing sea of thoughts, where new pieces are constantly added but rarely removed. A wonderful place, right at the edge of perception, in plain sight, but only if you never look. An expanse built from the images in the corner of your eye, a place you can never honestly look at but are still constantly aware of its existence. Somewhere that sounds wonderful at first—a land built from everyone's dreams. But, so many forget that even a nightmare counts as a dream. And, the more you forget it, the more real it becomes here. The farther it is from conscious thought, the further away from what you perceive, the more it manifests in this place. A constant shifting landscape of things people want to forget. Trauma and despair, tragic deaths, and harrowing nightmares that is what floods into this place.
That isn't to say that being here is a constant battle to survive. No, the contrary, no matter how real these things become, they still exist, only in the form of a mind or an image. So, while they can drive you mad, they can never kill you. However, that isn't an irrefutable rule. If something else finds its way into this place, it could kill you just as it would normally, but this isn't what you'd generally need to concern yourself with, merely something to keep in mind while traversing this realm. The typical elements of concern in this place are the entities that hold one desire and one desire only, to break your mind, to leave you mentally an invalid. Those things traverse this place, looking for the poor saps who fall into this place without knowing how. Those things are dangerous and terribly efficient at what they do, but these are not my concern. Most of those existences rely on vision to assault the mind, but I cannot see, so images, no matter how gruesome or abhorrent, are worthless as a tool against me.
No, my concern with this place is not of my safety here or of the conceptual beings that live here. My problem is with the things that connect to this place without living in it. In the distance, I feel the inkling of one of these things. So far away in the perceived world, but here I am only a stone's throw away. I can feel it crying; I can feel it dying. Not quite a person, not anymore, a monster, who's mutation failed part of the way through. The portion of it that mutated struggles, tearing at itself, attempting to rip away the part of itself that is still a person. The person, well, he screams, his mind unable to comprehend why or what he has become. His mind is connected to this place, his body, tethered only by the struggling mutation in his soul. Given enough time, his mind will break, shatter under the agonizing pain, and disperse across this realm. But for now, he continues to exist, his mind easily salvageable, if I knew where his body was. But, I cannot find him, not now. I am a mind and only a mind. Another inhabits my perceived form, and until he returns to this place as a mind himself, I cannot move. I cannot make the journey to find the body of the individuals whose screams permeate the sludge around me. Because, without an anchor, this place has no exits and no entrances.
That is slightly wrong. I am still connected to my body, and the one who inhabits it does traverse the shallows of this place frequently. But I am tethered while he is anchored, so I cannot force him out. So I must wait, either till he falls or till he gets bored. Then, and only then, will he join me in these depths, where we may speak and quarl over inane differences in our opinions. But, for now, I let myself drift in the sea at the edge of perception. Float without floating, and move without moving. Should the meandering thoughts take me close enough, I will attempt to converse with the newly born half monster. He could do with the assurance that, like all the others, I will save him. For, his experience in this place makes him my kin, and as such, his safety has become my problem. But, for now, it's best to float and let things back in the perceived realm run their course, however long they take to do that.
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Luna
Luna couldn't move. Her body, frozen by a wave of fear that forced itself into her mind, wouldn't respond to anything she wanted to do. Her mind couldn't shake the fear despite knowing that the emotion wasn't real. Her veins felt like ice, and her stomach clenched in the jaws of the unseen feelings. She tried to move her feet, tried to walk, to step, to do anything, but her feet felt like they had glue stuck to the bottom of them, holding them to the stone. Her arms felt shackled like massive chains held her in place. Luna could tell that the voices in her head were trying to say something to her, but the terror drowned them out. Her eyes flicked around, the shadows in the alley stretching, growing, becoming misshapen in her horror-induced state. The world twisted in the corner of Luna's eyes, faces appearing in the shadows, before vanishing once again when she tried to look at them. Her ears rang, and the sound of her blood flowing through her head drowned out anything else. Luna tasted bile, the dread driving to want to vomit. Her nostrils flared with every breath, each heavy and desperate as Luna failed to rid herself of a pervasive feeling of choking.
>SNAP OUT OF IT.< Ome of the voices bellowed, or was it more than one? Luna couldn't tell. But, with something to focus on, Luna managed to pull her mind slightly away from the fear. She could still barely hear the voices, but barely was better than not at all. So, she focused on what they said, trying with each new word to pull herself further away from that invasive emotion. >Good, keep doing that. You're doing fine; just follow us.< The Motherly voice said, attempting to guide Luna away from the fear.
>You going to let some paltry aura of fear stop you? Pitiful.< A rude voice continued, trying to goad Luna on to get away from the fear.
>Don't panic, Aint worth it.< The typically drowsy, lazy-sounding voice sounded extremely attentive now.
The voices continued like that, each giving their own form of assurance that the Luna could escape the fear. And they were right. Luna fought off the false horror with each passing second and worked herself back toward moving her body. Her fingers twitched, then they clinched into a fist. Her toes wiggled in the boots that even now were slightly too big for Luna's feet. The distortions in her vision started to fade, and the faces at the corner of her eyes began to become infrequent. Luna was beginning to feel confident in her ability to shake the invasive force, optimistic that she'd successfully move from this dark alley to somewhere safer. The feeling in her stomach faded to minor tightness, and her lungs stopped heaving, returning to a regular rate of breathing. The control of her extremities climbed up, her wrists moving, and then the elbow starting to bend. Luna unclenched her teeth, and her eyes stopped darting around in a panic. But, she was still far from moving her legs, the joints in the lower part of her body locked together to hold her up where she stood. Despite the apparent challenge, Luna continued to fight off the fear, doing her best to return herself to reality, and the voices kept speaking to help her with that.
>You can do it. Don't give up; just keep it up. Fight Fight Fight!< The excitable childish voice cheered Luna on.
>Ain't no problem, not for you. No no.< The Flamboyant voice said.
So the voice continued, each of the five voices giving advice and encouragement to pull Luna further out of the hole in her mind. They whispered at times and yelled at others, an odd mix of audible and silent, words cutting out like a radio, but each missing syllable calling out to Luna to push away more of the cloud of terror. But, before Luna regained the movement of her body in its entirety, she felt the fear grow fade for an instant before increasing a dozen times more potent.
A bony hand landed on Luna's shoulder, and in the corner of Luna's eye, it looked far from healthy. Black wisps floated off of an apparently skeletal hand, each wisp distorting the air and creating more faces as Luna observed it. That hand tightened on Luna's shoulder, squeezing it painfully, before pulling her back up against the wall of the alley. Her back slammed into the wall, a painful amount of force nocking the air from Luna's lungs. She gasped, desperately trying to breathe, but failing to catch even a wisp of air. Her mouth flapped open, trying to gulp in oxygen, but only managing to mimic a fish out of water. The voices kept speaking, each panicked now, no longer trying to guide her away from the fear but desperately demanding that she run.
>Run, you have to run.< That Motherly voice said.
>PICK UP YOUR WORTHLESS FEET!< The rude voice screamed.
>Not good. Not good, you gotta get outta there, right now.< The childish voice said in a quivering tone.
>Move your legs like you mean it< The usually flamboyant voice said, the gravitas dropped in the panicked tone.
>Run. Run now.< The drowsy one said, their voice now utterly devoid of any of the usual apathy.
"Oh, would you all shut your damned mouths." An awful, grating sound, like heavy machinery used to imitate words, entered Luna's ears. And with one sentence, the voices faded from Luna's mind. They still spoke, Luna could feel them yelling, but she couldn't hear them or understand them enough to utilize their guidance to escape the jaws of horror. "I SAID SHUT IT." That sound of gargled steel and broken glass assaulted Luna's ears, and this time, the voices went utterly silent. "Better. Now, you and I are going to play till that foolish enforcer shows up. So, let's get to business, little hero." The sound of a thousand dying creatures and choked engines mixed to create words. And, the contents of the statement turned the false horror in Luna's head to a genuine terror that froze her spine.
A thing walked out of the shadow in front of Luna, stepping out of what should have been a solid wall like it didn't exist. It resembled a mummy from Luna's world, but the wrappings were a solid black, and they didn't sag as the contents had decayed over time. Instead, they clung to the bones of the creature like the flesh of someone starved. Or, at least, pictures of such individuals were the only thing Luna could tie the limbs to. The face was flat like something had ground it off in some manner. Luna watched ends of the apparent wrappings float about, ignoring the wind and gravity, more the head of snakes than cloth. One of those wrappings whipped out, wrappings itself around Luna's arm, pulling the limb away from her immobile body. Another did the same to her other arm, forcing her into a T pose.
"Now, it's been a long while since I had a toy this good. What should we do?" A cacophony of nails on chalkboards and metal smashed against metal assaulted Luna's ears, utterly without direction. "Should we pull?" The thing punctuated its words by pulling on Luna's two outstretched limbs painfully. "Maybe. But, the fun would end too soon. Wouldn't it?" A thousand static televisions sounded out into the world. The creature stepped forward, placing its hand against the side of Luna's face. The act would have seemed almost like a caress if not for the sharp claw-like bits at the end that dug into the skin around Luna's ear. "We could put a few marks in this perfect skin. Make you look more like a local." Broken speakers and raging fire combined in an impossible way to form a voice. The creature's claw dug further into Luna's scalp, drawing a stream of blood down the side of her face. "I know." The creature's abhorrent mockery of vocals said, somehow forcing grotesque excitement into the noise. "Your so new to this; we'll just start at the ends and work our way in, won't that be grand."
The creature stepped to the side, the wrapping-like structures still holding Luna in place, but not as much as the paralyzing fear. Luna couldn't see the monster anymore, unable to turn her head and look toward where it stood by the end of her arm. But she felt it, the air around it turning oddly cold in the summer heat. That chill draped itself across her arm, almost like a wet towel. A bony hand grabbed ahold of Luna's, forcing the fingers out of the clenched fist Luna had them in. Sharp claws scraped at Lunas skin as those cold bony hands placed all of her fingers together, now pointed out away from her body. Luna wondered what the creature had planned. Why was it holding her hand? Why was it here? What did it mean by, start at the outside? Luna asked herself these questions, hoping for an answer. But, before she could ask any more, all her thoughts were blown away by a white-hot agony originating from her hand.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Luna's vision turned black with blotches of dull red. Her mind became a sea of pain, driving out everything else, even the paralyzing fear. Luna yanked her arm, trying to pull it away from the cause of the pain that she couldn't yet see. The jerking motion was reactionary, careless, and Luna paid for it. The pain in her hand doubled as her fingers yanked out of the grasp of this horrifying monster. But, before she could pull her arm further away, the cloth wrapping tied around her arm tightened then yanked, forcing her arm back outwards against her will. A gut-wrenching pop came from her shoulder, and her arm went mostly numb except for the pain from her hand. That pain near doubled yet again when another flash of mind-clearing agony flooded in from further up her arm at her wrist. This time, with Luna's vocal cords no longer frozen by fear, a pained whale escaped her throat. Her consciousness faded into a red and white mass of pain, her thoughts failing to form into anything coherent.
Luna barely pulled her mind together, the pain clouding her thoughts and the fear doing its best to creep back into her mind. She couldn't hear anything, her ears ringing, but the red and black blotches faded from her vision enough for her to see. So, Luna turned her head to the source of her pain. What she saw made her want to vomit. Her hand could barely be described as such, now a mass of red with a few spikes of white sticking out. Her fingers looked like they had been through a meat grinder, but it was only marginally worse than her wrist. Her wrist was broken, that was the truth, but it wasn't the best description of its condition. Luna's shattered hand was folded back, forcing what she assumed to be the back of her appendage against the inside of her elbow. Later Luna would compare it to a scene from a famous movie series. But, now, all luna could do was attempt to hold down the mass of bile making its way up her throat. She watched those bony hands once again grab at her limb, this time by the elbow, and the meaning of the creature's previous words finally became apparent. With that realization, Luna slammed her eyelids closed, unwilling to watch her elbow meet a similar fate to that of her wrist.
>I... ing.. d.... nsent?< Luna felt the final almost silent voice say something, but its words didn't make sense. Luna felt the hands tighten around her numb arm, one on either side of her joint. >I.. ping.... do y... onsent< The voice spoke again, its words becoming clearer. The hands started twisting in opposite directions in what felt like a purposely slow manner. >I'm ...epping ... do you... onsent?< The voice repeated, but Luna failed to understand. Pain started to flare out from her elbow, not quite at the level of her hand or wrist but steadily rising as the twisting strained her joint. >I'm stepping in. Do you consent?< The silent voice finally managed to convey its message. The request for consent was tied to a feeling of urgency in Luna's mind, but otherwise, the voice contained no character or real emotion.
Luna didn't know what her consent meant in this situation. She didn't understand what stepping in meant, nor did she understand why this voice was usually absent from the other five. But, right now, Luna didn't care about any of that. The feeling of urgency wasn't foreign like the fear; it had come from inside her mind, even if it wasn't hers. So, Luna followed it without hesitation. The pain from her elbow was now almost all Luna could think about, but she gathered the scattered pieces of her mind and screamed out a silent response to the request. >YES. DO WHATEVER YOU WANT. I CONSENT.< Luna screamed out in her mind, offering every form of wording she could come up with to represent her willingness to go along with the voice's request.
Then her mind went black, a new pain flooding her mind for an instant before vanishing entirely.
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This section was going to be a table, but I don't know how they work.
Current status.
Body damaged arm repairable can work around this.
Soul still acclimating undamaged will have to do.
Mind given freely capable will take caution to maintain appropriate structure.
Offered ability negligible.
Retained ability moderate
Both within expected margins.
Objectives, defense, maintain, repair, return.
Target designation H
accepted force lethal if necessary.
Possible action, delay, break, drive off.
Impossible action, run, seek assistance, victory.
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Curse
Something in the air changed while Curse twisted the arm of his toy, literally, for both things. The little star stopped screaming; she stopped pulling, and the look on her face turned cold. If Curse compared the face she wore now to the one she had two seconds ago, well, they were like two completely different people. The one before was panicked, afraid, in pain. This one was cold, calculating, and undisturbed by the now disfigured limb. Curse didn't like it. This wasn't like the little toy had receded into her mind; the eyes proved that. When Curse took playtime too far, the eyes went dull, empty, almost lifeless. Her eyes were different, aware, watching with a frosty gaze that didn't match the rest of her face. Curse didn't know what to make of the situation, but the easiest solution to that was to break something. So he tried to. He already had ahold of her arm, and the girl's elbow was a step away from shattering, So he kept twisting, now with more force than before.
But, those calculating eyes flashed for a second, their intent washing out into the world. Curse felt the distinct feeling of being watched all across his body before the pieces of himself holding the girl's limbs in place burst into flames. It started at the point of contact on her skin, blue flames rushing out across the fabric-like substance, attempting to consume them. His hands flew away from her skin, the fire sticking to his palms like oil. But, the other appendages stayed wrapped tightly around the limbs of his toy. Pain washed into Curse's mind, a foreign feeling, an extremely unpleasant one. Curse yanked the on his appendages, trying to use them to crush the hero's arm, hoping that would stop the clearly magical fire. But the flames weakened them, and instead, the thin strips ripped, leaving Curse's mind reeling in agony beyond anything he'd ever experienced. The pieces still wrapped around the girl's arms burned away rapidly, leaving nothing but black dust that vanished into the wind. The flames on Curse's hands persisted a moment longer before they blew out in the wind.
Cursed watched the toy lower her arms; it was slow, like the actions were something she had to think about. But, those eyes still shined with a cold light, an old light. No emotion crossed from those eyes to the rest of her face, not fear nor anger. Her face was still, not even a twitch of the lip to show that she stopped herself from speaking. But those shining eyes, filled with knowledge and will, they pierced Curse, stabbing into him in a way he didn't understand. Her shoulders hung low, slumped almost, like the effort to keep them up was too much. But, still, her eyes glowed, almost literally. Curse watched the limb he'd mangled twist and bend back into place. The process was slow, as if the hero's reservoir of spirit wasn't large enough to fuel the feat, but the will behind the action was willing to be methodical about it. All the while, those bright willful eyes bored into Curse.
Curse hated all of it. It was infuriating, being treated like he was an entity someone could ignore while they caught their breath. It was maddening to have someone watch him without even a hint of fear or despair crossing into their face. It was frustrating to feel those eyes pinned to him like their gaze was enough to hold him in place. The almost lazy motions, the slow repair of what Curse had broken, the shining eyes, the lack of emotion, Curse found it all so... Annoying. That was the only appropriate word, and the only action Curse could take to rid himself of this annoyance was to break the thing responsible. So he stepped back into the shadows and moved behind the tiny girl. Curse swung his arm, intending to bludgeon the back of her head, smash it against the other wall of the alley. But those eyes appeared, the toy spinning to face where Curse was, so fast that Curse failed even to perceive the change in position.
Her eyes shined, brighter for an instant as they had before Curse's appendages burst into flame. However, it wasn't fire that appeared this time. A sharpened brick shot out of the wall, stabbing into Curse's arm and stopping its swing. Her eyes flashed again, intent becoming an almost visible phenomenon before a fire ignited at the contact between Curse and the brick. Agony, pain, discomfort, whatever the word for this new feeling was, Curse didn't know. All he understood was that the fire was the source, and he wasn't willing to give up his arm. So he stepped past her perception, a chunk of the brick coming with him. Those eyes followed him till he vanished completely, tracing his body, shining all the while. When he was beyond the physical, the fire burned an instant longer before the lack of real fuel extinguished it, ridding Curse of the pain. Curse lunged into the material beside the girl's damaged arm. His claws ripped out, trying to tear into her skin and break that false confidence. But, those eyes found him; they shined brighter and brighter in Curse's mind before a kick slammed into his chest. He felt his ribs crack before he let the force fling him back, and he moved beyond her reach. He swung his arm out of the shadows in front of the girl, looking to crack her ribs as she did his. But, those eyes found him, both shining so bright. Her working arm slammed into the side of his arm, blue flame erupting at the contact, causing another flash of pain in Curse's mind, forcing him to retreat again.
Curse tried again and again to attack his toy. But, those eyes, those shining eyes, they persisted, watching where he'd been. They seemed always to find him to bore into him. They filled his mind, entering into his thoughts even when he couldn't see them. They twinkled with a cold knowledge and a calculating motive backed with a will to achieve it. They tormented him, mocked him, that shining light irritated him beyond logic. So their destruction became his goal with his next attack. Curse stepped out above the girl, launching himself down at her head, clawed fingers extended to gouge out those shining eyes. But her own hand shot up, blue flames flickering to life between the fingers. Her slender fingers wrapped around Curses neck, a searing pain entering Curses mind at contact with those flames. Still, he reached forward, trying to use his longer arms to get at those gleaming eyes.
But, with an almost impossible speed and strength, that tiny girl whipped Curse against the brick wall. The side of his skull caved to the brick. His mind went hazy from the injury and the pain from the fire. But he still clawed at the flesh of the girl's arm, trying to get her to release him from her grip. His claws ripped at her tendons, and her hand opened involuntarily. Curse took the opportunity and stepped past her perception to extinguish the fire once more. Beyond her reach and safe from the danger that blue fire posed, Curse took the opportunity to observe the individual he'd previously thought only strong enough to receive his torment without resistance. She stood precisely where Curse left her, unmoving limbs positioned the same as when Curse escaped her grasp. Her face showed no emotion, but those eyes flicked around, taking in the environment. But, the longer Curse watched, the more tiny details didn't add up.
Despite the lack of emotion on her face, her breathing was ragged, like each breath was painful. The limb that Curse had broken was healing, but the pace had slowed beyond its already slothful pace. The wounds on the other arm sat open, blood flowing from them freely. That limb had bruising all up and down it, not from Curses attacks, but a form of overexertion. Burn marks doted her skin, her own flesh taking damage from those blue flames. The girl's legs trembled, shaking, one more than the other, but both clearly strained in holding her up. But even with all of these apparent weaknesses, those glowing eyes darted around, watching for Curse to make another move. The more Curse stared at those eyes, the more they dominated his mind. They shined so brightly to him that everything around them turned dark. They shined with a twinkle of vigor in an otherwise collapsing body, a beacon in what should have been the darkest of moments, a shining pair of golden eyes piercing into Curse's mind. Curse wanted so badly to destroy them: to rid himself of this feeling of being watched. He wanted to reach his fingers into those shining lights and put out whatever fire kept them going. But, before he could try, a weightless hand rested on his shoulder.
"NO! YOU CAN'T!" Cursed screamed, hoping that it would stop what was to happen next. But that wasn't how this worked.
"It's my job to send you back, and you know that. So, don't give me too much trouble, alright." The enforcer said, applying pressure to Curses immaterial shoulder. "I'm not in the mood to fight, and I have a feeling neither are you." The enforcer said, their voice surprisingly compassionate.
"What makes you think that? I'm still up for a fight" Curse said that, but in his mind, he had no thoughts of fighting the enforcer. The only thing he could think of was those damn eyes. He couldn't turn away from them; he couldn't let them be, he had to break them, he had to have them.
"So you are." The enforcer said, their tone filled with pity. That pity would typically have set Curse off. How dare they pitty him; he was above such things. He wasn't something you should pity; he was something you should fear. But, right now, the only thing he could think of is those shining eyes. "Why don't you go to sleep." The enforcer continued, the final word filled to the brim with compulsion. And, in his current state, Curse couldn't resist. So, his mind faded away, his awareness of the material realm waning as well.