Post by Deleted on Jul 16, 2019 17:21:15 GMT -5
...made of this
“Oh great. Not this shit again.”
There was nothing here. An endless expanse of darkness, wisps of fog coming from nowhere and going nowhere. Occasionally, abstract pulses of light in wavering colors like an oil slick on a puddle.
Mike had been here many times before. Ever since then, that time. They had come here and stayed for months that felt like eternity, long enough to wonder if this were some crappy afterlife. Some form of Hell constructed by a demon with no imagination and less motivation to put forth effort, but still miserable enough to qualify as one of the infernal planes. And since then, this was the only place they went to in their dreams.
Inhale, exhale. Some patches of the ground were reflective. They took care not to look into them for long- last time they were here and lingered too long on their warped reflection, all of their teeth fell out in a cascade of bloodied ivory chips. Sighing in an irritated fashion, they started walking. Maybe there was an exit somewhere. They’d never found one in any of their visits to this place but there wasn’t anything else to do.
They hated this place. It was like a fucking labyrinth.
The thought made them stop suddenly, holding their breath. They listened, straining against the deafening silence for any telltale sounds. The clop of hooves. An angry snort. Any sign that he was coming, that the monster was around.
No. Nothing now. The only sound through the silence was the only regular sound that ever could be heard here- occasional booming pieces of human speech. Or at least what Mike thought was human speech. It sounded like it, but the words were just south of the line that made them too muffled to be understood. They made as much sense as a lecture by Charlie Brown’s teacher and only added to the overall feeling of isolation.
Nobody could reach Mike here. They were alone, as alone as they’d been all those years before. As cut off from people they’d gotten to know and love as distance had rendered them from Bel. As death had rendered them from Six. As time had rendered them from Jack.
You were meant to be this way. What did that fucking poet write? ‘Nothing gold can stay’. You like someone and they’ll be removed from your life, least in any positive sense. You want proof? Think about Leo. About Dom. About fucking Brenna, McGuire.
Mike gritted their teeth and put their head down. That was another fun thing about this place. Being alone with nothing but their own internal dialogue- and somewhere, him- made even that turn against them, their train of thought going so dark it was downright funereal.
Church’ll never leave. He promised.
Cute. Promises have such a great fucking track record in your life, right?
He loves me.
Does he?
Of course he fucking does.
Remind me when at what point he said that. And miss me with that stupid doe-eyed ‘I can feel it, he doesn’t need words’ crap. That sounds to me like you deluding yourself, making yourself see what you want.
…
I’m sure what he needs is yet another self absorbed bitch projecting their bullshit onto him. Of course, that self-absorbed bitch has the benefit of John actually saying he loved her. That must fuckin’ sting, right? She’s six feet under, John can’t even remember her goddamn face, and she’s still got more of a spoken fuckin’ declaration of love than you do.
Mike pressed their lips together and trudged on. Tried not to let it get to them. It cut, though. They always knew how best to cut themselves. Their thoughts quieted, though they could feel an irritating sense of smug satisfaction coming from inside.
It’s alright though. He’s around here somewhere. He’ll get you. He always will in the end. He can do whatever he wants to you and he’ll never pay because nobody really gives a shit what happens to you.
The very thought made goosebumps raise up on the back of their neck. They listened again. And again, nothing but the own caustic presence of their own thoughts, the periodic MWA-MWA-MWA of the muffled voices from the sky, or what passed for sky. The sound of a low two footed trot…
Oh, NO. FUCK. FUCKING SHIT.
Run, run, rabbit, run,
Here he comes to have his fun.
Don’t matter if you’re sweet or if you’re sour
YOU’RE GONNA GET KILLED BY THE MINOTAUR.
The laughter in their own head was wild and cruel, but Mike paid it no mind. They bolted. The hoof cadence changed course. Quickened in pace. Mike daren’t look back. They didn’t need to. They knew exactly what the MINOTAUR looked like. A solid eight feet if he was an inch, cut muscle, massive horns. The lower body, hooves, and tail of a bull but the arms, torso, and face of a man that would be devastatingly handsome if it wasn’t part of an abject horror, number 81 on the Best Team In Fucking Football Whether You Like It Or Not. He bled from a head wound that only made him stronger and had a bloody bat in his hands, ready to cave his victims’ head in. A grotesque phallus that barely managed to be concealed by his pants.
He was charging like an express freight and was just as stoppable.
“COME HERE, BABY. HE DOESN’T LOVE YOU BUT I DO. NOBODY LOVES YOU LIKE ME. I’M GONNA LOVE YOU TO DEATH, BABY GIRL. DON’T RUN FROM ME. YOU CAN’T EVER GET AWAY.”
The voice in the sky was even more urgent than usual. Short muffled bursts. Mike looked up with terrified tears running down their face, running so fast their legs felt like they may fall off, that their lungs might burst like party balloons. They could almost make it out. It sounded so close.
“--ike…!”
Ike? Did it just say Ike? The fuck was OWWWW.
The bat struck in a low sweep, knocking Mike’s legs out from under them and sending them rolling ass over teakettle. Parts of the ground stuck to them like thickened ink and other parts cut up their flesh like unforgiving asphalt. They landed on their back. The hoofs came closer. Closer.
“NOW SEE WHAT YOU DID? YOU DIDN’T NEED TO MAKE THIS HARD. YOU’RE HURT AND THAT’S ON YOU, BABY. NOW BE A GOOD GIRL AND DON’T MAKE THIS ANY MORE DIFFICULT.”
Mike screwed their eyes shut tight. The hooves advanced. They heard the distinct sound of a zipper unzipping. Hot breath like sulphur.
“ --ike! M--! --ike!”
Their shirt was torn open with a single downward rip. Wait a minute. They could… understand it?
“Mike!”
They sat up with a shot, eyes popping open, panting hard. They were drenched with cold sweat and could feel their heart about to eject itself from their chest via their mouth. They turned their head to the left and found themselves staring into an expression of concern that they’d only seen a couple times before. It softened into relief in the blink of an eye.
“Mike. You’re awake.”
They swallowed, coughed, and managed a little smile.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m awake.”
They were in their own bed at home. The morning sunlight was cutting cheerily through the windows. There were even some birds twittering away outside, the whole scene in utter defiance of the horrorscape they’d emerged from. Mike took a few deep breaths, trying to calm themselves down. They smelled toast and coffee.
“I already made breakfast. But I have my appointment soon. I can go alone if you’d--”
He paused, giving Mike another long look, brows furrowed slightly.
“Are you alright?”
Mike breathed out, one hand rubbing at their forehead, smiling a bit softer.
“I’m good. Gimme a minute, I’ll come with.”