Writing Challenge - July 2016

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Writing Challenge - July 2016

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JamesMartin

JamesMartin

Sa souvraya niende misain ye
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Two challenges completed, thanks to all our capable participants.

Our last challenges have focused, respectively, on the characters and on the story. But neither of those are worth much if you can't put them in an interesting world. And so for this month, the challenge is all about building up the world, with characters and story in the background, if present at all.

In honour of this month and it's ungodly heat, the prompt is:

Describe a character's own personal hell.

This can be a literal hell, it can be a world which to them is hellish, it can even just be a regular world in which regular day to day flaws grate on them. Ideally, your character and story should be all but non-existent, details about their nature implied from the way they observe the world around them. This prompt is ALL about creating a detailed and interesting world.

All rules apply. Given the nature of the prompt, consider this your warning. There will likely be explicit content here.

Reminders:

1. Characters under 18 can be used, their stories CANNOT invove sex.

2. All submissions must make a reasonable effort to foillow the prompt.
 
Lilith knew she was in Hell. She knew it was meant to be. She looked around at all the lava and Firey areas of her new home. She has no idea how she got there but knew something must have happened to bring her here. She saw demons, much like her own, tormenting others before turning their sights into her. She gave a smirk knowing this wouldn't be pretty.

She knew that is she managed to survive here she would also become a demon at her own will. But first the demons that were here first get to torment her with many ways. As the different demons came towards her she braced for what was going to come. But instead of it being physical abuse and torment that she expected they just stared at her. She was confused as to why they were staring.

'Maybe it's some scare tactic that they developed. But I have been through far worse' she thought as she glared at the demons. Just wanted them to get the first day is tormenting done, well the first and not last day of it. She knew even is she did become a demon like them she would still be tormented. Not just because she was in Hell but for the fact the people she may have killed would also be here most likely.

She only smirked at that thought. She was a killer before ending up in Hell. It wouldn't have surprised her if she was meant to be a demon. But she also had plans. But before more thoughts could form in her mind she felt a sudden pain in her back. She howled in pain as she transformed into a demon without any warning.

When the pain subsides she now knew why the demons were staring at her. She was meant to go through that change with witnesses. Like becoming a demon was like a marriage. But instead of marrying someone you might later hate as your life grew on your married to being a known tormentor and killer. She heard the demons talking.

They seemed surprised that she became a demon so quickly without even doing a thing. She then felt more pain and doubled over. Almost curling up into a ball because of the pain but she rode the pain out. When the pain fully subsided and the transformation was completed she knew she had to look more badass than the other demons. Because they seemed to fear her.

She laughed and started to help make this place more of a Hell than any demon. But that didn't stop herself from mentally tormenting herself.
 
That's what Nightshade tells you anyway when you admit to something that he considers 'out of the ordinary' or 'strange' or 'odd'. All synonyms for the same thing that change depending on how uneasy it sometimes makes him feel. How it makes you feel.

You suppose it is unusual, the way he sees the world despite declaring your own to be something akin to madness. He tells you that you have more than a few a screws loose, that you should keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself, that to hold your tongue would put everything in his own world at ease but...You suppose, this is understandable for someone who doesn't understand, who cannot begin comprehend the way you think or feel or see.

'Everything is fine', you tell yourself as you wake up at the campsite you set up yesterday evening. (Well, you say 'you' but you know that it was really Nightshade who sparked a fire to life so that he could cook dinner and used the giant leaves of overgrown ferns as some form of shelter while you were staring blankly at a tree trunk for nearly three hours, according to him anyway.) You don't open your eyes, you never do within the first five minutes because you can never really tell what you're going to wake up to. It's like knowing a surprise without having much insight to what it is in all actuality.

It's your ears first today it seems.

It varies, sometimes it starts with your nose or your tongue but today a broken ringing is sounding, high-pitched and demanding though the air much like when your ears pop but it has been clipped into a tune and you can still hear the birds screaming a chorus in the branches above you and your traveling partner's heads and the wind ruffling your short, silver hair so you know that you ears certainly haven't popped. It reminds you very vaguely of a music box. You haven't heard this tune before. Your nose itches. You smell cinnamon and something rusty like...Copper. Your hand feels wet and also kind of irritated.

You're hungry, maybe you should get up and look to see if Nightshade has some food cooking. You can't actually smell anything cooking but you can feel the faint heat of the fire a couple of meters away, you also can't hear it's cracking but that's okay because you don't trust your senses anyway. You never have.

Then again, opening your eyes could reveal something you don't want to see, so you keep them shut just a little longer, rolling over onto your side, your leg comes into contact with your backpack.

The copper smell seems to be getting stronger. You wipe your nose with the palm of your hand to try and stop it only for wet to smear across your face. That's...Kind of gross actually. The copper smell is everywhere and it's slightly disconcerting.

You open your eyes to see red, your palm all but ripped apart by a large gash across it, it's stinging faintly but you're more distracted by the wet that seems to be seeping through your shirt and onto your skin. You blink slowly and stare down at your dirty shirt where black is smeared and splattered over it, and you can feel it seeping into your pores, into your veins and you decide that you really, really don't like it. You go to lift your skirt, smearing red over the stained black and white material but you don't really care you need to get it off because your brain is telling you that it's hurting you.

You urgently tug your shirt over your head and get stuck briefly in your hurry to discard it.

'Everything is fine.'

When you finally tug the damp material off, your skin of your thin side is open and dripping black in gloups but you've seen this before so this doesn't concern you as much as you think it should. You told Nightshade when this happened once before but upon his inspection you were perfectly fine, no black, no shredded flesh.

'Normal.'

What does get a painful stab of distress out of you is when you look up from your presumably normal body to see a rabbit lying on it's side, turned away from you, lying in a puddle of the black substance pooling on the floor, it's fur matted and parted to reveal bloodied bone. You clamp your uninjured hand over your mouth and force yourself to remain calm despite the bile rising in your throat, your condition - the disturbed one, not so much your side - only seeming to worsen when a pile of the creatures seem to appear before you.

You know you're hallucinating, you're used to this and that notion is slightly comforting but it still doesn't do much for you right now. You only pray that it won't last long because you don't want to handle this today.

"Hey Lavi- What the hell, what did you do?!" Comes the snap from behind you, jerking you out of your stare to see your companion rush to sit next to you, taking your injured hand between his, inspecting it. You blink slowly, the pile of horrific things suddenly replaced by the leaf-strewn forest floor. The ringing in your ears is gone. You see your shirt in the corner of your eye, the only stain on it's blurred surface coloured red.

You feel yourself give a slow, half-shrug. You still taste copper in your mouth and the pulsing pain originating from your tongue concludes that you accidentally caught it with your sharp teeth again. "I told you to be careful of the rocks, idiot." Nightshade continues as he disappears back to his previous post near the fire. You glance up at the smear covering one of the sharp edges of the side of one of the angular boulders decorating the forest clearing. You must have sleepwalked again if the bloody hand prints smudged along it's surface pointing to your direction indicate anything.

'Everything is fine' you remind yourself.

You feel yourself being pulled up from your sitting position forcibly and a soaked cloth that smells like alcohol is wrapped around your bleeding palm. You jerk away from your companion, your skin crawling from where he touched you and a hiss escaping though clenched teeth in searing pain.

"There's a small village nearby, it needs proper treatment before it gets infected." Nightshade informs you, already shoving various things into his own backpack. "If we hurry we'll get there before noon. Lavi." You hear his voice pause then there's a hand waving itself in front of your face. "Lavender, are you listening? Get your shirt back on, now."

You continue staring at the spot his backpack had taken up even after it has been picked up. When your hear him stomping out the fire after a stretch of time you feel words bubble up in your throat and decide to voice them in a disconnected murmur.

"What now?" Nightshade asks, his voice irritated.

"...We're not fine."

There is a pause, then the shifting of undergrowth as footsteps near you, then instead of staring at the ground, you are staring at a pair of muddy boots. If he didn't have them on he could float away, up into the sky. You know it's impossible but your brain convinces you that is absolutely possible and suddenly you're afraid because you don't have your own shoes on. You shake this train of thought though because you know that your brain cannot be trusted.

"No, we aren't." Nightshade states, his voice loosing some of it's bite. "But if anyone asks, lie and tell them that we are."
 
​
"I see the world differently than others. Two sets of eyes to see the day in two different ways."
"Isn't that a good thing? You can never think one sided because you have two separate opinions on everything."
"I've been diagnosed with multiple personality disorder because of you."
"Learn to control me and they might find you normal."
"I've been classified as a phsycopath for killing her. I only felt emotions when it came to Summer... only Summer..."

Summer... Summer... Summer... Summer... Don't leave me.​
​
My mind is my hell. The demon inside will torment me constantly by talking to me, urging me to do things I know I shouldn't. I can feel him pushing at the back of my eyes, trying to get free, trying to take control of my being. He believes one day my mask will crack and I will become something that I have been pushing off for ten years. He wants to see me crumble so I can be a marionette to his desires to kill. I hate him, I truly want to see him suffer in horrid ways, ways a child like me should never see.

The demon is me. No matter what way I put it this demon is myself, a part of me that is leaching on. Simply a parasite I was born with, one a doctor cannot remove. I will be given no correct diagnosis, nobody knows what's going on behind the curtains.

Bi-Polar, Multiple Personality, Psychopath, and some others that I can not recall. Humans believe they know everything when there is a whole other world inside their own that they're unable to see.

My mind is filled with memories, memories that make my heart sick from a deep depression. Says the therapist. I will relive these memories in my head, that is what makes this place my hell. I will have detailed memories of that day. The day where Summer was taken away from me, all the warmth she brought to me died away. Now I shiver, shake, and my teeth constantly chatter. Simply anxiety! Oh, sure, that's whats causing me to shake! No, i'm missing my Summer. There is no warmth from her hugs, no humidity from her shouts of rage, and her harsh glow had slowly went down until there was no more soul to keep it shining. The same day I had to protect my older sister for once. I curse my small body and limited strength, and I curse that drunken slur of a 'man' who held me where I was. Nails dug into my flesh, burns formed on my pale wrists, and the intense smell of alcohol filled my lungs and burned my throat. A horrid man was still out there. I curse myself for not end him as well. 'Never give up', I suppose it was true when I had broke free from his grasp when I saw her hit the floor.

Summer had looked at me, and i'll never forget those eyes. The eyes that had told me she was dying, that she had to leave me and had no other choice. 'Live' was her final word. Her voice was so small, so weak... She was normally a bursting ball of energy, trying to make everything seem positive. She was dying, and all her warmth was surely leaving her body as well.

I had let my demon take over, I had no will to hold back anymore at that time. I let go, relaxed my body to the point where my mind would twist into something demonic. It felt amazing to be able to not constantly be on guard, waiting for the slam in my head that told me that I was going to be fighting myself for the next few hours. The demon part of me was thirsty for blood, and ready to kill anyone in the room. My mother was the one and only I killed that day. When I snapped back with crimson dripping hands and my mother trashing on the ground I ran to my sister. I dragged her carefully, my body struggled greatly to move hers outside. My throat hurt at the end of that day from the screaming, and crying. I hadn't spoken a word to the police besides 'No! Don't touch her!' or simple, "Summer!'. In my head I had said many things to my older sister.

It's like you set me in a white area. I can never feel the ground, feel the air. I don't even know if the area i'm in is water or air. Am I drowning, standing, falling? I never know, it is simple a white room of nothing. After some time it seems like the room simply becomes a large TV in my mind, the sound on high so I could not ignore the sounds. I torment myself for that day, and all the days before that lead up to this. I watch on replay, to torture myself. I do it so the feeling will never leave me, so I will never forgive myself for what had happened. I could have done more, I should have been a better brother and protected my older sister.

I am my own hell, and I will never escape this endless loop.
 
​

On a sandy beach, waves lapped at the shore. The ocean was fairly calm. The breeze was soft and gentle. To some, this felt like paradise, but it is anything but.

A young woman with long blonde hair and eyes as blue as sapphires walks the shoreline. Yori Cross. She has been here twice before. The first time was with her family, before everything went down. The second time was in a dream, replaying every single thing over again. This time, she is here in a dream again. Dream or no dream, it always made Yori extremely sad, and she always woke up shaking, shivering and crying.

The Yori in the dream knew what was about to happen. As she walked the shoreline, her white beach dress fluttering with the breeze, she stopped in the usual spot. "No. Not this dream again."

It started when Yori turned her head. Her parents were there, smiling and having fun, while a younger version of Yori played in the sand. They were laughing, smiling and having a great time. Until a stranger came over, pretending to be friendly. A man who appeared to be in his early 30's asked Yori's parents, Sarah and James, a question about the beach. But teenage Yori knew what was coming.

When the 30 something year old stranger had the married couple distracted, he hissed and extended his vampire fangs. His eyes turned a shade of red and in a quick motion, he had James in a strong hold while his fangs ripped into the neck.

A scream could be heard. This scream was high enough to shatter glass, and shatter hearts. It shattered adult Yori's heart every time she heard it. It was a scream she will never forget. Her mothers scream mixed with a young girls fearful cry as they watched the man of their house be drained of blood.

Teen Yori watched this all unfold, and she knew she couldn't do a single thing. This was a dream based off true events, and nothing she did or said in this dream would alter it. The last time this dream was had, Yori tried to move and interfere, hoping to change the ending of the dream to at least give her a peaceful sleep. Alas. It never worked. She was forever stuck on her spot on the beach, hearing the screams of her family, watching them die, while the waves calmly lapped at the shore in the background.

Sarah tried to save her husband. She grabbed a rock and came up to the vampire and smashed him over the head with it. James fell to the ground, his body now limp. It was too late. James was gone. His blood drained from his body and his soul departed from its capsule. Sarahs feeble attempt to save him was the death of her though. The vampire hissed at the woman and grabbed her and snapped her neck, then drained her body.

Little Yori was screaming in pure terror at this point, the sound shattering Teen Yori's heart all over again. As Yori watched her younger self, tears streamed down her face. It was horrible for a child to lose their parent. That's how life was supposed to work. Children get older. Parents get way older. Parents die. Their children burry them and mourn their loss. But not like this. This was a variable in the life equation that was unexpected and not supposed to happen. Sarah and James were supposed to live out their lives, and die between the ages of 60 and 90. One would most likely get cancer, and the other would suffer heart ache as a widow for the next few years until they decided to give up. The heart would just give up. Sarah and James were not supposed to die at the ripe age of 34 and 35 with a young daughter left alive.

Little Yori knew she should run away, but, her parents; the people she depended on, were dead and unmoving. To her, she just thought they were asleep. "MOMMY! DADDY! WAKE UP!" Little Yori screamed at them, then saw the strange and evil looking man walk slowly towards her. She was only 6 years old. Old enough to know things and have some instincts, but too young and innocent to be introduced to such evils. With tears streaming down her own face, she looked up at the vampire in fear, but she didn't have the courage to run. Even if she did, he would catch her in a heartbeat.

Just as the vampire was about to grab Little Yori, Teen Yori turned her head in the direction of where she knew a savior was going to enter the scene. A man jumped over the cliff and onto the sandy beach with such grace and ease. Kane Cross, Yori's uncle, was here to the rescue. He was a vampire, but no one ever knew it. He was a good vampire, one that didnt kill innocent people, and one that cared so much for his family. In one quick sweep, he was behind the stranger, his hand in the evil vampires back, and with one quick motion, Kane had the vampires heart in his fist. The 30 something year old vampire fell limp on the sand, his life taken from him.

While Little Yori was crying and being consoled by her uncle Kane, Teen Yori turned her attention to the heartbreaking part of this dream. This is where her dream allowed her to move. She ran to her dead parents bodies and sat down on the sand. She was crying so hard that her body was shaking. Her hands reached for her fathers head and placed it into her lap, her hand stroking hr father's short hair, and blood pooling onto Yori's white dress.

While Yori mourned the loss of her parents yet again, a gentle breeze kissed Yori's cheeks, then blew threw her blonde hair, almost as if it was reassuring her that everything will be okay. The sand that was now stained in blood glowed blue against the moonlight. Calm waves continued to lap at the shore, almost as if they kept trying to reach Yori, to consume her, but they could never reach her. Could never console her. Could never swallow her up and hug her.
Everything was calm. Everything was now silent. Yori's own hell is her past memories, and it taunts her almost every night in her dreams. Perhaps that saying "The calm before the storm" is actually a warning from the evils of this world, rather than a catchy phrase that we all know it to be.
 
"Mmm..." A beautiful melodic sound filled the air, as two emerald green eyes stared out at the horizon of the rising soon. "It's amazing how this world has so many flaws.. and yet, their are so many beauties about it." The voice spoke again as a cool summer breeze brushed passed, shoulder length hair swaying in the wind calmly, leaves giving a glorious dance as they were blown past the forest floor. The one with the emerald green, soul piercing eyes was known as Royce.. Royce Ohpehlia. Royce kept her gaze locked on the sky. "Don't you think Bacon?" She asked towards the small tea cup pig that was sitting, curled up in her lap, quietly watching as well. Bacon gave a small snort in response, not understanding what the human could possibly be going on about.

Royce's plump pastel pink lips curved into a barely visible smile as she lifted her head up and looked out beyond all the other tree's, enjoying the sound of the crickets while the sun peeked out over the trees. Since Royce wanted to catch every glimpse. Her pitch black hair stopping and flowing down just above her shoulders. "Being able to look out at something as wonderful and breath taking as this. I don't know where Heaven ends and Earth begins." Her smile faded slowly, her brain flashing horrible memories into her mind. "Despite all I've gone through.. this world still has beauty in it. People cant just have their heads stuck up their butt's and not realize how amazing things are down here. Without stopping even though it may be just for second, to look around them and see what is being bestowed upon us. To enjoy the many wonders in life.. even though most of them may have went to hell and back. I for one have." The 14 year old girls eye's filled with tears, memories of her once perfect life all going to hell. Bacon blinked as his master ran her finger tips along his soft skin. Black patches showing while the fuzz stood up, signaling that his master was unhappy. Bacon let out another oink and stood up, brushing against Royce and trying to calm her down. The tea cup pig knew nothing of her past, but he was a living and breathing example to her. Bacon was the one who kept her there. Bacon was the one who kept her stable, even when the natural wonders of the world couldn't.

A salty warm tear slipped down her cheek as she smiled, her voice cracking while she spoke. "It's alright Bacon. I'm fine." Quiet sniffles sounded, Bacon's ears perking as he lifted he head up towards Royce. "Love you too.~" She said, kissing the top of his head as his ears twitched and flicked her cheek lightly. Royce chuckled before going silent. "No matter how much pain your in.. no matter how much pain you've caused me.. you are gone now.. and I regret the night I saw your blood your blood on my hands. I regret the night that you came home, the devil inside you and you lunged out at me. I regret the night that I grabbed the knife, past time's of all the beatings, and people who picked on me because of the way you disgraced my name. I regret the night that I plunged it straight into your stomach. I regret the night that you looked me in the eyes as your stomach acid leaked out and began eating away at you from the inside. I regret the night seeing all life drain from your once.. oh so beautiful green eyes.. I regret the night you fell limp in my arms.. your red wine colored blood soaking into my blue shirt and staining it for good." Royce rested the side of her head on the rough thick bark. "But I do not regret the decision that I was forced to chose." The wind howled, blowing past much more stronger then before, dandelion petals floating in the air along with saplings of the oak tress.

Royce closed her eyes as the sun was now high in the sky, birds chirping with glee and ruffling their feathers, taking their time and enjoying their sun baths. But as the sun rays landed on Royce's face she began fading along with Bacon. "It was lovely.. don't you think Bacon?" She giggled down at the pig before completely vanishing into thin air like the ghost that she was, forever sealed in the forest of eternal regret. For the young ghost had finally moved on after years of being stuck there with endless screams and torment. She was finally free. Free from being held captive and free to look upon the worlds beauty on her terms. Free just to be free. Reciting all her regrets out loud and denying one thing about them. That one thing that sent her to the 5oth ghost world. That one thing she had struggled with for so long, and that it was finally out, she could descend in the final peace that she deserved. She could descend to the resting period of her soul along with the soul of her companion Bacon The Tea Cup Pig who had never left her side during life, and the agonizing death their shared together, being burnt alive just after Royce had stabbed her mother in the stomach.

Regret will always be that one thing holding you back from true wonder's of life as you know it. Stand up and take control because this world now has become cold and will kick you down at the lowest of the low. Do not forget about the beauties hidden in plain sight cause once you past them, you may never get a chance to see them again.
 
An Ice King's Wrath

This is created by one of the students in our university. Blubbering is inconsistent; does not know the line between dream and reality. Poor child.
​
We live in a world where Zodiac signs show your general attitude. I, myself, have never believed on this stuff until I met him. My own personal Hell. No, the feeling is neither love nor obsession. It was fear.

I was the 'bad-ass' in the classroom, a Scorpio. He was the silent genius, the Ice King, an Aquarius. I thought it would be funny to humiliate him, kick him from his high chair. It all went south after the fourth prank. His words alone have fucked up my mentality and caused me tremendous pain. Imagine if he actually did some of the statements he stated.

It had been a month since the last prank. I never had a decent sleep. If ever I close my eyes, I remember the things he said. I have imagined every possible way I could die by his hands. Today, the school psychologist told me to describe the events that haunted me the most.

  • "Could a tapeworm penetrate through out skin?" His voice reached my ears even if I was literally farthest from him. My eyes widened. Yes they could. These parasites are going to eat you from the inside; growing larger and hungrier until they decide to move to the brain. My stomach started to rumble, as if those worms heard him and started to reply. My head also started to throb. I had to shut my eyes. Then I felt it. Something was wriggling in my eyes!

  • The loud crashing sounds made the whole class jump. We were having a play and I was unluckily grouped with him. We had to make the story life-like so I was forced into 'threatening' him. As both of us 'struggled' on the stage, I suddenly froze. A mechanical pencil was directed at my right eye. Even if it was five centimeters away, I dare not blink. "I do not want to hurt you," he shouted. The scene was so realistic that I found myself peeing and crying. With effort, I pushed him off of me and started running for the exit, shouting obscene words at him.

    The feeling of standing so close to him was as if you were standing next to the devil himself. I do not know if I said my line but inside my head, I was just trying to warn him to back away. My body moved on its own towards him, his features coaxing me. Truth be told, I was really aiming to stab my weapon into him. It might end my misery. As we rolled on the ground, I could hear him chuckle, as if he was enjoying this. He was mocking my will to survive! That was when his pointed tail threatened to stab my eyes. That was when my instincts kicked in.

    The class has congratulated me for my realistic performance. I did not have the heart to tell the the truth. Pride was at steak here!

  • "Dude, a university mate of ours just got ran over by a drunk pick-up driver," my classmate reported to the Ice King.

    He looked up and pursed his lips before shaking his head. "I wish they find him."

    I watch him place his hand over his mouth as he and his friend talked. I almost saw a smile ghost his barely covered lips. Like I said before, this guy must be the reincarnation of the devil himself. His words were that of a humanitarian while his features showed a cunning sadist. His eyes only flashed in interest when his friend started describing the body. His lips moved as if indulging on another person's misery. His body was relaxed, almost like someone used to hearing death stories everyday. If psychology taught me anything, I would say that he was the person driving the car and he was really aiming to kill the poor kid. I had to shake my head, removing the image of the devil in my thoughts.

  • I watched him write on his notebook. I am sure he is coming up with twisted ideas on how to torture our fellow classmates. He would smile occasionally as he encircled some of the words with red ink. I could almost hear the agonized screams of the people he tortured. His eyes were still as cold as his name. Everything around him starts to wither and die. For some unknown reason, nobody want to sit next to him right now.

  • A tap on my shoulder made me jump off my very own skin. My eyes focused on the person who interrupted my dreamless sleep and felt my heart being squeezed by a cold hand. "You look like you are about to drop dead anytime," he commented, concern written on his face. "Want me to help you to the clinic?"

    I flinched, letting my seat slide away from him. "A-am I?" I squeaked. A black figure started to rise from his back, its smile ripping its face into two. It's eyes, the same hue and style as the Ice King, stared at me as if I was a specimen. Its black hands slowly reached towards me, ready to rip my throat out. I gave out a shriek.

    He stepped back in surprise before pursing his lips. "Oh dear," he sighed. "I just want to help~!"

    "Dude!" his friend called out from outside. "We need your help! Someone fainted from the other classroom!"

    He gave a bow in apology before rushing towards his friend. I was left in the classroom in a trembling mess. "I just want to help you finish it all," his voice hummed into my ears. I almost gave myself a whiplash when I turned to the source. The black figure stood beside me, its features very alike his. He was laughing silently before floating around me and engulfing me in black mist.
This is merely a warning. An Aquarius might be a humanitarian but Hell would freeze over if they get angered. I have lived the whole month in fear of that one person. He might be level-minded and quiet but has the most unpredictable actions.
 
Gravel crunched underfoot, the long disused road wasn't handling the sudden upturn in traffic so well. Cracked, old pavement often intercut with sparse patches of dirt and potholes that were a mere annoyance rather than anything dangerous. It was midday, a small convoy of vehicles had stopped just a mile ahead for a break on their long journey. They didn't noticed the haggard man with shaggy black hair approaching from so far away.

His tattered fatigues told a story that nobody should have survived. The military issued uniform was torn to pieces, holes in places they shouldn't have been. There was a suspicious lack of blood one way or the other, and the man looked worse for wear. His teeth were clenched, and his eyes glimmered yellow in the sunlight.

The screaming continued as he entered the building. He swore it was Kimiko, KNEW it was Kimiko, even though he'd never heard her scream like this before. Only one door stood between him and her screaming. Filled with rage, he kicked in the heavy piece of metal hard enough to break one of the hinges, the door standing useless for it's purpose now. The screaming was louder, but his attention was on the naked body on the ground before him. The screaming continued, but how could it keep going when she was so still?

He looked up from the body, at the men who grinned madly at him, and then further to the screen above him...

Daniel clenched his fist at the memory as he started into a light jog, approaching the convoy. They still didn't seem him yet, about a half mile from them. He picked up his pace, willing himself forward. The rage boiled in his veins, brought adrenaline in a torrent. The trees began to fly past him as he let his breath even out, keeping his pacing easily without his usual heavy gear to hold him back. He grit his teeth, ground them together as he rapidly gained on the still convoy.

..."It's time we ended our little game, Carver. As much fun as this was, my brother decided you're too much of a liability to keep around anymore. We had hoped to get you on our side for this fight, but you've been pretty stubborn about your boyfriend, so we decided to take out our frustrations on your girlfriend" Travis monologued. Daniel didn't hear a word of it as he dropped to his knees beside the love of his life. His hand found her neck, trying to ignore the blood and the... he closed his eyes as he felt nothing, no pulse of life that he'd felt against his tongue more than once. He'd never hear her laughter again. He'd never get to see her pout at him when she wanted him to do something she knew he'd normally never do...

One of the men looked up in time to see Daniel vault onto his vehicle and come crashing down on one of his comrades. His fist slammed into the kids face, mercifully knocking him out before his attention turned on the rest of them. They were too stunned to react as he lunged forwards and tackled another to the ground, wrestling him to the ground where he began to beat him, closed fist crashing into him again and again until his face was bloody and he was dazed. He heard shots before he felt one tear through his back, just missing a lung. That wasn't going to stop him.

...The roar that rocked his body wasn't anything a human should have been capable of. It reverberated and echoed, so terrifying that, for just a moment, hearts stopped. The yellow eyed man, more a beast now, disappeared. He was fast, so fast they couldn't track him until they heard a scream from one of their men on the overlooking walkways. A grizzly, horrible tearing sound accompanied the scream and a body was launched over the railing as the crazed man set about his gruesome task.

He came back to himself minutes later. Walking, no, stalking down the dirt road with blood trailing behind him. It dropped from his finger tips and covered the front of him. Those guys didn't deserve to die just because they were on the wrong side of history, but the darker parts of his mind said otherwise. They deserved punishment for their stupidity, for siding with the monsters who had taken his woman from him. Kimiko was gone now, and all of the love he'd felt with her had turned to despair. All of that despair had served as fuel for rage that he was now taking out on any unsuspecting person in his long, bloody path north.
 

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Each motion of the clock's inner mechanism echoed in his head like a hammer being smashed against a drum. It was an oddly soothing sensation. A delightful consistency to it. The room he was in was that slightly off white that hospitals must have gotten the wholesale price of the century on, there was no other sound to speak of and nothing much going on. It was nice to have something to break up the silence.

What's the phrase? Be careful what you wish for?

"No Jack, it's mine!!!" His eldest daughter wailed. All of six, a mere few minutes younger than the brother she was yelling at, Tiffany turned to him, tears in her eyes. He blamed her mother for this. Taught the kid that ir worked. "Daddy. Tell Jack to play with his own toys."

"You've had it for quite a while Tiff" He said calmly "Sharing is one of the rules"

"But HE should share with ME too!" She retorted "And it's mine". Lord above she was pouting now. If she'd been the dog he probably would have tossed her a bone shaped treat.

"He has been sharing. You've had it for an hour now."

"But I want it."

"No Tiff. Let your brother play on Daddy's phone. You can use one of his soldiers. They're just like your dolls."

"No. They. Aren't. " She stomped with the aggressive quality "They're ugly"

"You were the one who wanted to leave your own at home. "

"But I want to play! " She wept

"No. Sit down and behave." He reprimanded, reaching down and wiping her eyes before making her sit. Jack was happily on the phone, probably beating his father's high scores again. Then followed a few glorious minutes where he thought the silence might have returned. Children in a hospital waiting room. Not his idea. But he'd lost that particular argument. Looking after his children for a few hours apparently wasn't fair recompense to carrying one around for a few months. And as for the current situation... Well, better two pains in his ass than a long cut in his abdomen.

But all good things must come to an end and his mother in law chose his moment of calm as her moment to arrive and take charge of her grandchildren. That brought smiles to their faces and Jack's games and Tiff's tears were forgotten amidst a flurry of hugs, pulling them into sagging flesh. Fickle little bastards. He simply nodded at her "Hello mother". He was dreading the next few minutes. Maybe he could convince a doctor that her mouth was a gaping wound. Shouldn't be too hard, nothing pleasant ever came out of either of them.

"Hello there" She beamed, "How are my little angels? Is everyone excited about their new baby brother?"

No. The children would have preferred a puppy, their mother would have preferred to never have to look at another baby implement after enduring twins and he would have preferred to be back at home drinking a beer and 'watching' the children play in the yard. There was a reason his only real contribution to the name discussion had been suggesting 'Accident' when his wife had said a name should tell you something about the person. It was probably a good thing that she was the one making baby related decision.

But of course he didn't say that. Instead he squeezed out a few platitudes like squeezing shit out of a bottle and calling it chocolate sauce. But it seemed to satisfy the old bat and she went about cooing over the children while he waited. He tried listening to the clock again. He wasn't patient enough for this, he wasn't clever enough for this. He'd somehow stumbled like an idiot from a bachelor without parents or siblings or obligations to speak of into the life of a married father of three with more extended family than your average rabbit. He toned them out and tried returning to his book. The children were fussing for attention, his mother in law was cooing over them like a mother hen, every minute more of her family trickled in, like sewage flowing across the floor, carrying baby gifts and congratulations cards. And each one he had to force out a smile and a nod and act pleasant. Maybe he could break the glass and grab the fireaxe before anyone notice... and nope, there was another one. A half sister in law. ANOTHER half sister in law. He looked at his wife's mother. He'd seen a lot of younger pictures of her.His great luck, an entire family turned out to love photographs. Still, he had to conclude that somehow, she'd stumbled across the world's two highest functioning alcoholics to marry her. They'd both held down a job... but there was no way that face would be attractive without drinking enough booze to drown a horse. Fortunately her daughter didn't resemble her at all. Or perhaps unfortunately. He wasn't dumb enough to marry and spawn with an ugly girl.

Finally, he was called. Another daughter (every father's dream), nice and healthy. His wife had a drug induced smile on her face. She stioll looked good. The baby weight would hopefully not last. His eldest two waited in the doorway like dogs watching a cat from the ends of their leashes. He put on a smile, kissed her, said his platitudes without gagging and was handed her. Joy, his wife had named her. Apparently picked from "ironicbabynames.com". He put on the mask of a loving father as he held her up for the pictures. He walked her towards waiting siblings and whispered to her as he did "Sorry about this. I don't like it anymore than you will." He carefully handed her to Jack, after demonstrating the correct way to hold her. "Careful now son.Babies are delicate, we don't want to drop her."

"Just think what a tragedy that would be."
 
Its around 10pm when I pull up outside the the filth laden sandstone tenement my apartment is in. This is it, the place that is laughingly called home. I am here for two days and away at the grind for five, that was this week, and last week and it'll be the next week too. Running my hand over my three day beard, and the rapidly growing blade one topped with a two. Bollocks, wish I'd had a chance to wash up before I came home. Oh aye, home. The ground floor is all boarded up windows, graffiti,broken bottles and empty tins of lighter gas are strewn about outside where the local kids sat buzzing the weekend before. The sound of broken glass beneath my heavy work boot and wait...ah yes there it is,the stench of piss and filth in the stairwell from those same said kids no doubt.

I look up the stairs and start the climb to the top floor, to my sanctuary and my baby Doll. First floor is all boarded up, second floor, I think there's a guy who lives in one of the apartments on this floor, but I ain't seen him in forever so...
Third and final floor belongs to me and Doll, well we rent the place you know, no one else would actually live in this shit heap, but it's home. I once again subconsciously, run my hand over my head, and rub the back of my neck as I look at the door, and wince a little at the smudged boot print from, my last trip home. Taking out my keys , I remember I hadn't fixed the latch yet, so stick them back in my pocket and just push open the door.
The floorboards creak and object to my presence, still no carpets, and the wallpapers peeling off the walls. I sigh, she had said that she'd get someone in this time, ah well that's Doll for ya. Going to the fridge for a beer, only there is no beer, there is no fucking fridge. I open the cupboards, no fucking food.

I shout her name the anger rising in the pit of my stomach, I grit my teeth and clench and unclench my fist and exhale hard. I work away from home all week, every week, slog my fucking guts out, send her my wages and for what? To come back to this. I close my eyes running my hand down my face.
I decide I will go watch TV till she gets back in, find out what the fuck happened to the fridge. Only the TV and recliner I bought last week are gone too.

I swear when I find that bitch.

I storm into the bedroom she ain't there that leaves the bathroom, sure enough it's locked again. Cursing her to hell and back I kick in the door. There she is, the light of my life, my baby Doll, curled up in the corner wearing the same grubby looking vest and panties she was in when I left beginning of the week.
I shout her name and her eyes flutter up rolling slightly, I look around and sure enough, her fingers are stained black from the soot off the bottom of the foil. There's some next to her with a few lines burned along it. I stride over snatching her up by the throat. She's a foot smaller than me and probably half my weight most likely less these days.
I give her a shake trying to bring her out of her gouch. But she's smacked out of her head, and so I give her another shake. She mumbles a greeting, so I smack her just enough to wake her up abit.
I ask where's my fucking money, she looks around and shrugs a little, so I slap her again. Her once bright blue eyes stare up at me vacant.

" Oh hey baby"


"Hey Baby?!"

My hand tightens round her throat, careful though, squeezing to stop the blood not the air, at least to start with. I shake her like a rag doll and ram her hard against the wall. Her feet dangle in mid air, and now I finally have her attention.
She is blubbering about needing the money, that she sold the TV and the fridge?!
My hand tightens and this time it's going for the wind pipe. She begins to turn an ugly reddish purple, before I release enough to give her air, demanding where my money is.
She's crying now all snot and tears, and she is just so so sorry. But I don't want sorry I want my fucking life, and my fucking money.
I warned her last time, I told her if it happened again I wouldn't have it, and so I pull the revolver I keep at my back and I stroke it down her face, giving her a shake just to remind her. I tell her that I loved her but she just is too fucked up. Her sobbing and whimpering doesn't even touch me now, as I pull the hammer back, and press it to her head , I feel the crazy bitch suddenly begin to tense, and I smile and pull the trigger.
'Click'
She shudders cries and I hold her there as she rides it out, the smell of cum and piss sweeps between us. I kiss her tear drenched snotty mouth.
I ask her one more time , "where's my money Doll.?"

Under the mattress, but of course it's under the fucking mattress. I drop her to the floor leave her curled up in her blissed out state.
" Oh and Doll " I call , I point the gun at the wall just above her, and pull the trigger.

"BANG!"

I go out for my beers and cigarettes, wondering if it's ever gonna get any better than this. Then I Shrug, It is what it is.
 
Nights were the worst.

Her bedroom, once a place of comfort, now pricked at Leah's conscience with memories. Silence let the ghosts of laughter and tears whisper through her mind, but putting on music to smother the silence and memories inevitably brought some song that evoked different but equally painful memories. Shadows wrapped her room in their traitorous arms, no longer the soothing companion to sleep they had been. She sat on the bed, legs held tightly to her chest, red-rimmed eyes blankly staring at the dim glow of her clock.

The numbers flickered to the next minute.

2:42 AM.

Sam's official time of death.

The tears went unnoticed as the lump grew in her throat, threatening to cut off her air. It didn't matter how she tried to swallow it away; it stuck resolutely within her throat to block her breaths and her sobs. She dug her fingers into her arms as if that would hold her together as the shadows grew menacing and transported her into the woods, the memories of that night. The sounds of the forest rose up in her head.

The hum of cicadas and the singing of crickets. The hoot of owls. Her brother's laughter in the distance.

Sam's scream.

The sickening crunch.

Pain burst in her head, and it dimly registered that she'd fallen off of her bed. Falling. Sam had fallen. The pain spread to her throat and an odd sound echoed in her room, piercing her ears and ringing in her head. A small part of her tried to tell herself that she was in her bedroom, but the grief and the guilt slammed it away. Her screams echoed those that rang constantly in her head from that night, but hers didn't cut off. They kept going and going even when she ran out of air, when her body heaved in another breath around the lump and began the keening again.

If only she hadn't asked to go camping. If only she hadn't agreed to camp in an unfamiliar spot. If only she hadn't asked to drink that night. If only she hadn't agreed to hide and seek. If only if only if fucking only——

If only she hadn't tripped, Sam wouldn't have died.

The part of her that recognized the present heard the door slam open and saw the light turn on, but the memories held her frozen and trembling on the floor with screams tearing from her throat. Sam's desperate calls for her drowned out Ryan's voice as her brother called her name, made her oblivious to his distress as he pulled her up off of the floor into his arms.

Only a desperate shake of her shoulders broke her from the memories enough to recognize fully that she was safe in her bedroom. Safe. Like Sam never would be. The realization transformed the screams into sobs, and Leah clung to her brother as if the unshed tears in his voice as he tried to talk her calm and the protective embrace he'd always reserved for his little sister were all that anchored her to the present.

Voices sounded at the bedroom door— their parents. Leah knew these hadn't been the nights they'd been expecting when their grown children had returned home for a summer vacation. Another hand touched her, probably her mother's, and panic seized her. They hadn't been there. They didn't understand. She tensed and curled closer to her brother, a choked whine working its way between sobs.

The hand disappeared from her back. The click of the door signaled their departure, and she fell to pieces in her brother's arms.

One sentence found its way through the sobs over and over. "It's my fault."

Her brother spoke, tried to convince her, to soothe her, but his words fell on deaf ears, and she simply clung to his shirt and repeated her confession. They eventually grew quieter in volume as her sobs eased to the occasional hiccup and noisy sniff. Exhaustion had begun to claim her when her brother eased her back onto her bed and tried to slip away, but her stubborn grip on his shirt and pleading "no's" convinced him to settle on her bed so he could soothe her to sleep as a half-conscious whisper slipped from her.

"It should have been me."
 
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