Reapercussions
Posted: Thu Oct 14, 2010 8:38 pm
Laura checked the clock again for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. 2:03. She rolled over onto her other side, closed her eyes and tried to will herself to sleep.
What seemed like hours later she turned over to check the clock again. 2:06.
This wasn't working. She sat up and tried to think through what was bothering her.
Or rather not what, but why. She knew the what: everytime she closed her eyes, she could see those horrid, blank masks, leering at her. What had he called them, Carnies?
Whatever they were called, it bothered her that they bothered her this much. She'd surely seen worse than lightweights in masks during the time she'd been in Paragon. She'd seen giant exploding robots, zombies made out of stitched-together corpses, barely-sentient, mobile sewage, and that was just today.
And yet, when she closed her eyes, she could just barely see row upon row of impasive masked figures, staring at her - staring THROUGH her. Though the figures themselves were barely more than silhouettes, the image was so vivid she started to shiver.
Something was in her room.
She didn't know how she knew: her eyes were still closed. But it was there.
She kept her breathing regular and opened her eyes slowly, hoping whatever-it-was would think her still asleep. But there was nothing to see: just shadows of shadows.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, when one of the shadows MOVED. It made an odd slithering noise as it crossed the carpet, which was what must have alerted her to its presence in the first place.
As it approached the foot of the bed, she reached out with her power to stop it, but it didn't seem affected. In fact, for the first time in a very long while, she didn't seem to be able to feel her power at all. As soon as she realized that, she stopped glowing, and the only light in the room came from the almost-full-moon outside the window.
Laura backed as far away from the thing as she could, pushing herself against the wall at the head of the bed. She was finding it hard to move, as if her own power had been turned against her.
The thing entered the shaft of moonlight filtering in, and she could see that it was human-shaped - a human wearing a long black robe, an expressionless white mask covering the face.
She tried to speak, tried to call for help, ANYTHING, but couldn't seem to get the words out.
The thing reached out a skeletal hand to point at her, its joints cracking as it moved. It's raspy voice was so low that she could barely hear it, but she knew what it was saying. She'd heard that same voice every night since she'd come to Paragon.
"Your fault."
The hand reached up to the mask and tore it off the thing's face. Laura couldn't look away.
Red, blistered skin hung loosely off an eyeless skull. Patches of white showed where the thing had been burned down to the bone, and infected puss oozed out the right cheek.
"Your fault."
The hand once more appeared out of the shadows, started to tear the flesh off its own face.
"You did this"
Laura shook her head and found her voice. "I didn't. I couldn't control it."
More flesh was ripped away.
"Your fault. You did this to me."
The thing dove at her. Taken by surprise, she didn't even realize what was happening until it was inches from her face.
She sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard, her stomach feeling like she had just been on the world's biggest roller-coaster. Her power came back to her suddenly, and she quickly rerouted the excess through the stone in her necklace before she burned something (she shuddered) again.
The specifics of the dream faded quickly, but she was still left with that feeling of horror and dread. Her eyes closed, and this time she quickly drifted into a dreamless sleep.
***
"I have news for Her," Anna said.
The two guards looked at each other (or at least turned in the general direction of the other: it was hard to tell with the great helmets they had covering their heads), nodded in synch, and stepped aside to allow Anna through. There was no need to say who "She" was. There was only one person it could be.
"She" was sitting in the middle of the main tent, hundreds of brightly-coloured pillows serving for a floor, a dozen attendants on hand to cater to Her every whim. It was apparent that they had just finished a show, as She was still in her costume: a dark purple suit covering everything but Her face, with white frills placed seemingly at random. She hadn't yet removed Her mask.
"Lady Angela," Anna approached her mistress and kneeled, being careful not to look Her directly in the eye. "I have news."
Angela made a motion with one hand, and an attendant appeared immediately with a bowl of peeled grapes. She took her time in choosing one, chewed it slowly, and swallowed carefully. "Yes?"
"My Lady, we have found her." Angela's face was hidden by the mask, but Anna could tell by the way She stiffened that She was surprised. Whether this was a good thing, or a bad thing...
"I see," Angela said, examining her fingernails. "Well, that's all well and fine then, isn't it. Bring her here."
"Ah," Anna started, before she froze. Angela stood up as attendants scattered.
"You are not going to tell me that you don't have her, are you? You came in here to tell me that you have her bound, waiting just outside, and you are going to bring her in here to me, aren't you?"
Anna coughed as she was partially freed from Angela's control to answer. "Well, you see... she wasn't alone. She had... friends with her. They overpowered us."
Anna stopped talking again as Angela's eyes burned into hers, and stole the story straight from her mind.
"You were overpowered?" Angela scoffed. "One hundred of you were overpowered by a little girl, a boy throwing pebbles and a walking sandbox?"
Anna couldn't even shiver in fear.
Angela shook Her head. She flicked a finger at Anna as She turned, and Anna started to scream.
Ignoring Anna, who had fallen and was now writhing on the ground, Angela motioned an attendant over. "I want the bitch kept under surveilance. Everything she does, everywhere she goes, I want to know about it. I don't want her to pick her nose without my knowing. And when she's vulnerable," Angela removed her mask as she stalked off into the shadows at the edges of the tent: her attendants dutifully ignored the red, scarred skin that covered her once-beautiful face, "bring her to me."
What seemed like hours later she turned over to check the clock again. 2:06.
This wasn't working. She sat up and tried to think through what was bothering her.
Or rather not what, but why. She knew the what: everytime she closed her eyes, she could see those horrid, blank masks, leering at her. What had he called them, Carnies?
Whatever they were called, it bothered her that they bothered her this much. She'd surely seen worse than lightweights in masks during the time she'd been in Paragon. She'd seen giant exploding robots, zombies made out of stitched-together corpses, barely-sentient, mobile sewage, and that was just today.
And yet, when she closed her eyes, she could just barely see row upon row of impasive masked figures, staring at her - staring THROUGH her. Though the figures themselves were barely more than silhouettes, the image was so vivid she started to shiver.
Something was in her room.
She didn't know how she knew: her eyes were still closed. But it was there.
She kept her breathing regular and opened her eyes slowly, hoping whatever-it-was would think her still asleep. But there was nothing to see: just shadows of shadows.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, when one of the shadows MOVED. It made an odd slithering noise as it crossed the carpet, which was what must have alerted her to its presence in the first place.
As it approached the foot of the bed, she reached out with her power to stop it, but it didn't seem affected. In fact, for the first time in a very long while, she didn't seem to be able to feel her power at all. As soon as she realized that, she stopped glowing, and the only light in the room came from the almost-full-moon outside the window.
Laura backed as far away from the thing as she could, pushing herself against the wall at the head of the bed. She was finding it hard to move, as if her own power had been turned against her.
The thing entered the shaft of moonlight filtering in, and she could see that it was human-shaped - a human wearing a long black robe, an expressionless white mask covering the face.
She tried to speak, tried to call for help, ANYTHING, but couldn't seem to get the words out.
The thing reached out a skeletal hand to point at her, its joints cracking as it moved. It's raspy voice was so low that she could barely hear it, but she knew what it was saying. She'd heard that same voice every night since she'd come to Paragon.
"Your fault."
The hand reached up to the mask and tore it off the thing's face. Laura couldn't look away.
Red, blistered skin hung loosely off an eyeless skull. Patches of white showed where the thing had been burned down to the bone, and infected puss oozed out the right cheek.
"Your fault."
The hand once more appeared out of the shadows, started to tear the flesh off its own face.
"You did this"
Laura shook her head and found her voice. "I didn't. I couldn't control it."
More flesh was ripped away.
"Your fault. You did this to me."
The thing dove at her. Taken by surprise, she didn't even realize what was happening until it was inches from her face.
She sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard, her stomach feeling like she had just been on the world's biggest roller-coaster. Her power came back to her suddenly, and she quickly rerouted the excess through the stone in her necklace before she burned something (she shuddered) again.
The specifics of the dream faded quickly, but she was still left with that feeling of horror and dread. Her eyes closed, and this time she quickly drifted into a dreamless sleep.
***
"I have news for Her," Anna said.
The two guards looked at each other (or at least turned in the general direction of the other: it was hard to tell with the great helmets they had covering their heads), nodded in synch, and stepped aside to allow Anna through. There was no need to say who "She" was. There was only one person it could be.
"She" was sitting in the middle of the main tent, hundreds of brightly-coloured pillows serving for a floor, a dozen attendants on hand to cater to Her every whim. It was apparent that they had just finished a show, as She was still in her costume: a dark purple suit covering everything but Her face, with white frills placed seemingly at random. She hadn't yet removed Her mask.
"Lady Angela," Anna approached her mistress and kneeled, being careful not to look Her directly in the eye. "I have news."
Angela made a motion with one hand, and an attendant appeared immediately with a bowl of peeled grapes. She took her time in choosing one, chewed it slowly, and swallowed carefully. "Yes?"
"My Lady, we have found her." Angela's face was hidden by the mask, but Anna could tell by the way She stiffened that She was surprised. Whether this was a good thing, or a bad thing...
"I see," Angela said, examining her fingernails. "Well, that's all well and fine then, isn't it. Bring her here."
"Ah," Anna started, before she froze. Angela stood up as attendants scattered.
"You are not going to tell me that you don't have her, are you? You came in here to tell me that you have her bound, waiting just outside, and you are going to bring her in here to me, aren't you?"
Anna coughed as she was partially freed from Angela's control to answer. "Well, you see... she wasn't alone. She had... friends with her. They overpowered us."
Anna stopped talking again as Angela's eyes burned into hers, and stole the story straight from her mind.
"You were overpowered?" Angela scoffed. "One hundred of you were overpowered by a little girl, a boy throwing pebbles and a walking sandbox?"
Anna couldn't even shiver in fear.
Angela shook Her head. She flicked a finger at Anna as She turned, and Anna started to scream.
Ignoring Anna, who had fallen and was now writhing on the ground, Angela motioned an attendant over. "I want the bitch kept under surveilance. Everything she does, everywhere she goes, I want to know about it. I don't want her to pick her nose without my knowing. And when she's vulnerable," Angela removed her mask as she stalked off into the shadows at the edges of the tent: her attendants dutifully ignored the red, scarred skin that covered her once-beautiful face, "bring her to me."