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In a Crooked Little House; With a crooked little dream..
Topic Started: Oct 19 2006, 06:52 PM (626 Views)
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It's always so quiet... I wonder if anyone would hear me scream...

The answer was always no. And she asked the same question every night. And she always did the same thing. She sucked in a large breath and let out an ear-splitting shriek. It was immediately absorbed by the off-white plush walls. And, as usual, the black gloved hand clamped over her mouth. She relaxed and let her eyes wander around the dark room until she saw the white mask. Her head rested against the wall and her eyes unfocused themselves. The hand released her and the mask moved forward. A voice slithered through the softened air, sounding unnaturally crisp in the plush room.

'467 more days, my dear.'

And then the smiling mask retreated into the all-consuming black.

She slowly drifted into a fretful sleep.

Every night for the past two years had been that very scene. Marie had been entered into the asylum at 14, when she had been diagnosed with schizophrenia. She was now 16, and it was only a week until she would be released. Her night-time hallucination was much less detailed and she rarely remembered it the morning after. She was moved to a regular room when they finally found a medication that fit her needs.

And, just as they had promised, she was released two weeks later.

Adjusting at school was hard, but she soon fell into the steady rhythm of a normal child. Her parents were overjoyed when she found a boyfriend. They had been going steady for almost a year when they decided to go out to a movie one summer's day.

Marie stood in front of her mirror, a smile on her face. Her clean white shirt was lying on the bed, freshly dried. Her black lace bra pressed against he chest perfectly and she giggled at her reflection. Her short skirt slid against her sleek legs. The shirt was pulled over her head and her curling brown hair was given a last bounce with hairspray. Black hoop earrings with red polka dots dangled when she moved her head. Feet with light pink colored nails slid into wedges and hands with the same lacquer came down to tie the straps.

She looked absently at the calender, her eyes passing over but not registering the large bold sharpie print written in the block of that particular day.

467

It was the four hundreth and sixty seventh day since she'd last been in the padded room. Marie shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the nagging feeling that something ominous was coming about. She grabbed the pharmacutical container off the vanity desk and popped two pearly pills into her mouth and swallowed them down. She stuffed it into her purse and raced out of the door and down through the halls, rushing into the arms of her beloved.

They walked down the sidewalks of the city, arms linked together and laughing about nothing. Marie relished the bubbling feeling that lifted her stomach up and made her feel, well, normal. Everything was running smoothly until they passed the 7th alley on the street. It was just out of the corner of her eye, but she could have sworn she saw a tall figure swathed in black with a frowning mask gleaming in the sun. She stopped in her tracks and looked back at the alleyway.

Her companion stopped, looking at her with concern.

'Is everything alright?

There was nothing there. Marie shook her head again and returned a smile.

'Y-yeah. I just thought I saw a black cat.'

They entered the movie theatre and sat in the comfortable seats, laughing quietly and making fun of the previews. And, there it was again! That person in the front row... No, it was just a boy with a hood on. Marie gulped and was relieved when the movie began and the lights dimmed. She rested her head against her companion's shoulder and he smiled softly down at her.

Twenty minutes through, the screen flickered with static. Marie blinked, but it was gone. She shrugged mentally and resumed watching, concentrating on the man returning home to a smiling wife. Another twenty and the screen flickered again, only this time it stayed for a few moments and the crash of white noise echoed in her ears.

She sat up, a frown furrowing her brow. Her boyfriend looked over, raising his own brow.

'Something wrong?' He whispered.

'Did you just... No.. nevermind..'

The man was rushing through the moon-dappled forest with the gurgle of a river coming from the surround sound.

The screen flickered again, only louder and longer. Marie started.

The man had found the river.

Static, only this time, a mask with a cruel smile flashed on.

The man slowly advanced to a amorphous lump lying on the bank.

The mask's smile grew wider.

The man leaned over the body of his wife, beaten and b.loody.

The mask spoke, the somber treble of the voice thrashing Marie's eardrums.

"GET UP, MARIE."

Marie screamed, scaring her boy and startling the rest of the audience. She leaped up from her chair and raced down the aisle, he boyfriend crying out frantically from behind. She rounded the corner to try and escape the mask but stumbled over the bulky wedges. She instinctively threw out her hands to try and soften her fall, but she never touched the floor. Strong hands gripped her wrists and a cloth laden with a chemical-smelling liquid was clamped over her mouth.

She was asleep before anyone even saw her trip.
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Marie woke up in a place that made her feel like retching. Her wrists and ankles were chained to a wall. It was dank, smelled like vomit and rust, and she could hear creatures rustling in the corner. Above all, it was dark and there were most definately bars where the fourth wall should have been. She moaned, and only then noticed that her clothes had disappeared, as well as her earrings and shoes. She was completely bare, and not just a little frightened.

Marie's chains clinked as she struggled with her imprisonment for the sixth hour. Her stomach rumbled and her mind screamed with a headache from dehydration. She stopped when she heard footsteps, trying hard to identify what was making the sound. A figure swaddled in a black cloak with the hood drawn and a theatrical mask handled a ring with keys, opening the door to her cell. Her eyes were drawn to the hands. They were blue and she thought she saw a little twist of yellow curling on the palm.

A coarse, but unusually kind voice resonated from behind the silent lips of the emotionless porcelain face.

'It's time to go Marie.' Another figure, only more tall and muscular, appeared from behind him. For no logical reason, Marie recognized this as the man who had caught her. He smelled faintly of... growing things.. or a greenhouse. His hands were a very dark green. The two unshackled Marie, but the brawnier made sure he had a tight grip on her as they ushered away from her prison.

They led her to a large room that looked rather like a Roman ampitheatre. Strange runes were carved into the walls and in the very center was a large pool, filled with... black? On a throne sat a masked man, his mask the one with the cruel smile. There were many other cloaked figures, each sporting different color hands. The apparent leader's were a dusky red, his fingernails a passionate ebony.

This was all lit by torches, a great iron chandelier with thousands of candles dangling from the ceiling. The leader stood up and, with a pretentious wave of his hand, brought all of his 'disciples' to sit.

Marie squirmed in the strong man's grasp.

The same oily voice from all the sleepless nights came from the leader.

'Marie! At last you've arrived! I always knew you would...'

'Where the hell am I? And who are you?!' Marie shouted. The leader chuckled and brought his hands to his psuedo-face. The sleeve slipped down a little and showed heavyset black tribal designs on his arm that also extended onto his fingers.

'We always knew you were a feisty one. You are in the hall of Peace, Love, and Understanding..'

Under normal standards, Marie would have laughed and made some sort of witty response to the name. It was practically the polar opposite of such a superfluous title.

'As for myself...' The leader slowly bowed his head and the fingers grasped, slowly pulling the mask of the man's face. The hood fell back, revealing sky-blue hair that spiked outwards naturally. His eyes were red, with no pupil at all. His skin was rouge, the black designs coiling all the way up to his eyelids. His teeth were silver and glittered in a smirk. 'I am Nkahsi. And I have brought you here, under the Northern children, to become my own.'

Marie tried to back up but was stopped by a painful squeeze from the man holding her down.

'Mikhael, Evellan.. Bring her the the Water...' Nkahsi said absently.

Her escorts nudged her forward, Marie vainly trying to dig her bare feet into the tiles on the floor. Whatever it was, she knew that the 'Water' was not a good thing. Hell, it looked like, well.. Hell! But she could not stop them and was soon on the very edge, squirming and crying and begging.

Nkahsi laughed and a cold shiver shook her whole body.

'Let's see if the gods will take her.'

Marie was flung unceremoniously forward, her bare body ing for a moment before it fell into the Water. There was no splash nor sound, for it was rather like tar and simply clung to her as she oozed down, going as fast as if it were water and it filled her lungs and she tried to scream and, oh god, she felt as if she were becoming tar herself and-

All the disciples and Nkahsi stood and stared at the surface in apprehension. Ten minutes went by. Then fifteen. Nkahsi's smile slowly turned into a frown. He was fust about to give the order to have someone search when a black hand, blacker than night itself, slapped onto the tile around the pool. Ebony sludge squelched and oozed over the crevices. Another hand splatted out. Fingernails of shining gold dug into a and pulled a body out.

It was dripping with the stuff, it's maroon hair lying in tangles mixed with the black. As it dripped, gold could be seen twisting around limbs and neck and face.

Two eyes, completely white save for the outline of the iris and pupil slowly looked up, staring at depths with a feral intensity.

Nkahsi, in awe, slowly hissed out the words:

'Welcome, Sister Shyrin..'



Shyrin slowly stirred from the park bench. She had dozed off a half an hour before and she yawned, throwing her head back to replenish her air supply. Wiping away weariness from her eyes, she slowly stood and stared dully at her surroundings. She had been shopping. Right.

A bag of her purchases lay on the bench she'd been occupying. She picked at her white tunic shirt with gold trim and fiddled with the tassles at the end of her emerald green scarf. Her Gucci shoes and tastefully thrashed jeans were covered with pollen from the underside of dying leaves.

Expressing disgust at the pathogens, she dusted herself off and stretched, trying to wake up properly.
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A hush fell over the children when he came out of the alley again; ‘The Ghost’ was still busy they thought. Still watching the pale man go back into the broken building once more, lugging another large cask into the shadows, sounds of shifting and breaking coming again. After a moment it stopped, the small gathering of kids on the far end of the road came to an abrupt halt, seeing a bottle roll out into the light, bumping on the curb.

“Hello kiddies,” Mers cooed, conjuring up behind the brigade of children, after which they all suddenly looked deathly pale, but not all as much as the lean albino towering over them, a wicked grin on his face.

“Like the show?” Mers asked, tilting his head, glancing over at the younger girl towards the back, the only female amongst the ruffians. She couldn’t have been more then ten but it didn’t matter much, his shapeless irises silently took in her form regardless, as if he could trap some piece of her in those faint gray orbs. He only broke his stare once he realized the thick silence that had come over the kids and him.

With a sigh he took a step back, bracing himself and letting out a bloodcurdling roar, the boisterous echo sending the children into a frenzied run, each tearing off in their own direction, Mers noting the way of the little girl, seeing her disappear into a homestead.

“Children…” Mers muttered, turning the opposite way and pacing forward, leaving the manhole which he snuck through open, perhaps with a spot of luck it would ensnare one of the brats. As he strolled along the sidewalk, basking in the awkward stares and leers of the local peasantry, he couldn’t help but think of his own Grace, she had been lost somewhere along the way after they got to the city, he assumed something he had said or just the way he was, he wasn’t exactly the best father figure, if at all. He had hoped she would fall prey to some other or a shadow perhaps, but then again, she might learn to stay with him next time.

He was in the middle of a thought when he caught sight of something dark, a shapeless dot against the cheery scene of the park he was far from as of now. A spark of interest flickered in his eyes for a moment; he would certainly have to find the source of the anomaly. Turning on his heel he stepped onto the seeded grass, the smells of dew and flowers were almost repelling in their pungent little section of earth, but he had more then enough will to over come it. Stalking forward Mers moved along a gravel trail, glancing down at the contrast of the blacks and grays in his suit of armor to the lush and lively surroundings, the harsh violets, spruce greens, and deep browns left no room for the dark neutrality of one of his favorite colors.

“Seems an unlikely place for an ebon statue,” Mers spoke aloud, having taken a longer route as to approach from the side, standing in a stance of observation, as if he were with some guide in a museum of arts.

“Though flawless, stunning, and the sheer contours are enough to make the piece so enthralling as to draw one to it, the placement of such a beauty is nearly appalling…” He shrugged, ending his little speech to the invisible crowd, a sly smirk curving around his pale lips, “Really then miss, what’s a girl like you doing in these parts?”
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"Excuse me?"

Shyrin slowly turned on her heels, a mahogany eyebrow arching delicately on her somber skin. Her own strange eyes met his pupil-less ones, daring a lady-like blink of subtle surprise. Golden nails caught on a loose thread on the hem of the shirt. Once she had processed the blanched man's remark, a smile unfurled on her metallic lips.

"Even godesses must make an appearance to ensure their people's faith. Besides, this district is renowned for carrying fine clothing that suits my taste."

A whimsical and sly edge narrowed her eyes.

"And what of yourself? What is such a marble manefestation doing, haunting such peaceful streets?"
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Mers listened to her intently, tracking her voice, following the pitch mentally, making all those little notes that he did. His eyes followed her curves slowly, causing a stall in his response to her question, though pauses were inevitable with Mers.

“Terrorizing children, theft, treachery, all the usual,” Mers nodded, jarring his head back for a moment, “Still have yet to rape and pillage-“ He gave a deadly looking grin.

“Though I’m sure you’ll suffice,” He gave that all to dark cackle, the kind that makes all evil feel so close.
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Shyrin, with the same unreadable half-smile, smoothed out her jeans and sat herself down on the bench. She crossed her legs gracefully and folded her slender hands in her lap, looking like the picture of perfection. If perfection came in black and gold. A strip of the latter curled around her neck, almost obscured by her scarf. Two gold dots freckled underneath her right eye.

She tilted her head to the side, never letting her glance leave his face.

"Will I? My, we are pretentious, aren't we?" She leaned forward, looking almost conspiratorial. Her next words were hushed and enticing. "And what makes you think you have a chance, Monsieur Ghost?"
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“Blunt titles are always an excellent way to start, doll,” Mers nodded, turning to face her and pace along in front of the park bench, his pale fingers lacing around behind his back.

“And a chance?” Mers paused, thinking, “I know that the possibility for failure is quite high, given my answers and the looks of me alone, however, I’ve found the motivation to be quite great enough for me to pursue regardless.” He nodded, turning on his heel and walking back again, establishing his pace once more. His eyes turning with him to keep the pattern of her and his path.
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Shyrin took a few moments to absorb his words and then slowly moved her bags closer to her.

"You should really start pacing like a mad man, first of all. Sit down, I insist."

She bared her silver teeth with gold tips in this grin, almost looking feral more than anything else. Her fingernails ran through her loose maroon hair, sliding through it like silk.

"And you should keep lathering on the pet names. I enjoy it."
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“Found someone who appreciates them…” Mers muttered to himself, turning to look at the spot offered, ‘never turn down a woman’ the words of an old friend echoed in his mind, though he had already made his choice. Stooping he propped his armor just right so he could sit, leaning against the wood with a sigh as he armor cracked and buckled.

“Now then lovely, I assume you have me sat here for a reason?” He begin to lay his web work already, turning his head to look at her.
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"You seem like a person who could provide me with a genuinely interesting discussion, rather than the useless trite I hear usually."

Finding herself much more relaxed than she had expected, Shyrin leaned back and sighed comfortably, closing her eyes for a moment. She found she rather enjoyed the crisp fall air that filled her lungs and then left her body as calmly as it came.

"So why don't you start impressing me, yes?"
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“Ah yes of course,” Mers nodded, contemplating the thought, “Should I juggle something or just cut straight to the innuendos?” A fraction of a laugh passed his lips, that sort of ‘Ha’ he gave from time to time. Sitting up straight he decided to do a few things that might be slightly impressive.

“Well, first of you may call me Mers, darling, commander of TRCC,” he nodded, “And I’m here on… Vacation.”
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"I'm Shyrin. And I'm here to enjoy the autumn air. Vacation, you say? You don't stike me as a man who enjoys such a backwater place as this." She said with a wistful wave of her hand, her eyes rolling up to look out of the clear dome that maintained a constant comfortable climate. "TRCC, hmm? I'm afraid I've never heard of it.. I don't suppose you're a native to this veritable utopia?"

She bit on her fingernail, curling up her toes in her expensive lacquered shoes. Her lashes folded rather flirtingly over her eyes and her Egyptian curves were accented elegantly by her tunic top.

Charming, no?
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“It wasn’t really a chosen sight…” Mers grumbled, rotating his shoulders, “TRCC is a Tarren based Space exploration team, I doubt you’d know of them, even if you had all the right connections.” He nodded, his arm crawling up along the rim of the bench until it was placed carefully behind her in a casual manner.

“So no, I am not a puckish imp of this culture, no worries there,” Mers pointed out, “Just a man looking for the things he wants…” He allured, turning his head to look at her, his right eye flickering for a moment as he winked at her.
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"Most men waste their entire lives trying to find that very same thing. More often than not, it defeats them and they die violently, with all their hopes and dreams running down on the muddy streets like spilt wine." Shyrin said, looking down at her perfect fingernails and filed them vainly.

"So have you found what you're looking for, Mers? Or are you going to cross the Lonely River with the regrets of the world on your shoulders?"
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ooc/ I felt unusually poetic writing that.

XD
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