The boy shifted uneasily in his chair. The pale quill pen in his hand twitched from side to side and he felt the small breeze from the feather's uncut vanes. Patience was something he'd acquire with time, though he doubted he'd get used to the types of entities that frequented this place.
"So, um, what brings you to the Library?" He tried to be nonchalant as he averted his eyes from the grostesquely elegant form in front of him. A coarse whisper, riddled with some slight cracking, caused his shoulders to tense.
"You are the Writer, are you not, boy?"
He turned to his left and gazed at the Scribe who was here to help him with his first few weeks. He offered no protection from the creature, but the boy knew he was safe anyway. He learned from the past few sessions that no matter how emotional they got, they couldn't hurt him. He looked around. Shelves upon shelves filled with books upon books surrounded the room he was in, yet this was not even close to a significant portion of the Library. Intimidation swelled, and he let out a sigh to relieve the pressure. Seconds dragged on, but there was no real hurry. He was beginning to feel resigned to his fate.
"I am." He eyes danced from the skull of the creature to the uninterested Scribe who was leafing through a tiny grimoire. The robed figure on the sideline didn't intervene anymore, like he had during the training period.
"I'm here to tell my tale."
"I'm, um, I'm still sort of new, so p-please bare with m-me." Nervously, the boy dipped the nib into an inkwell of dark crimson, dabbed and scraped it on the blotting paper, and with a sudden, forced determination, he began to write.
It was a beautiful day and I finally found myself off work. I had woken up early, done a dozen chores, and decided to surprise my wonderful girlfriend with breakfast in bed. Things had been hard for her the past few weeks. Dana had gotten fired because her boss was a womanizer, and we couldn't afford a lawyer to sue. I did my best to keep her spirits up and today was her day to go interview at a few places. The quick breakfast would definitely give her some energy and confidence.
I stepped into the room that I had left only a few short hours ago to find her body mutilated beyond recognition. Blood splatter was everywhere. Thick footsteps lead out of the window that was surrounded by bloody handprints. My tray of food added to the mess on the floor as primal fear entered me.
I rushed to her side and grasped her hands, a few shuddering gasps escaped her mouth. Her panicked, tear-stricken eyes enraged me. Who? Why? How could another human being do this? Blood pooled in her chest, and I could see the inside walls of her lungs. She looked at me for comfort.
"I love you." I told her the only thing I was sure of. She wasn't going to make it. I wasn't going to make it. Her eyes eased their tension, the blood spurting from her slit throat started to slow. Her hands went slack. The image of her stopped heart seared itself into my mind.
The police did all they could, which was absolutely nothing. Clear fingerprints from the windows failed to precipitate a conviction. My resolve failed me. I became a recluse, either locking myself at home or weeping for hours at Dana's grave. It lasted for weeks, until I showed up at the cemetery to see a girl by her headstone. I didn't take kindly to the violation of my privacy and said some rash things. She made the horrible mistake of blurting out that she was glad that my girlfriend died. Apparently she wanted to be my lover. I pushed her away and ran home.
I was in such a horrible funk that I didn't even notice the storm. A million warning sounds would have tipped me off, but in my grief I ignored them all. When the darkness congealed in front of my freshly-snuffed fireplace, my blood didn't run cold; it had already been frozen from weeks of loss. The creature of darkness sneered at me and I welcomed my death. I didn't satisfy it with screams when it took its snake-laden hair to my back, its misaligned teeth sinking into my flesh. The poison seared my skin and boiled in my veins, and I weeped happily as the creature drank my blood. Unfortunately, I wouldn't find relief.
"Oh you won't die. I've felt your anger. I know your misery. I feel compassionate for you." The words were spat out with a horrid mixture of delight and contempt. "You'll soon look like me, and then you, too, can feast off of puny mortal lives." It cackled. In my anger, my madness, I found myself cackling, too.
I had been watching him for days. My new instincts told me he was the one behind Dana's death. He may have been enraged by his fourth girlfriend's cheating, but the prick took it out on the only one I had ever truly loved by firing her. Then he killed her. I stalked him from the shadows. I tortured him with noises in the night. I misplaced the things in his house while he slept. He slowly started to grow paranoid. The thought of his heart beating faster made me smile as my game advanced.
One night, he came home alone and I knew it was time. I stretched myself out; the cobras and vipers in my hair hissed and dripped venom. Every lightbulb in the house shattered as I screeched with my new vocal chords. I was happy. I pulled myself fully into the world inside his closet, and I slowly pushed open the door. I saw his eyes widen in time with the creak.
"OH GOD, NO! WHAT-"
He fell silent because my happiness got the better of me and I grinned too wide. The sharp teeth glistened in the dim moonlight casting reflections on the floor.
"You bastard, you killed her. You mutilated her. Your fucking handprints were on the window and you got away. I'm really going to enjoy this."
His fear multiplied as understanding flooded his mind. I felt my cheeks pull even tighter and wrinkled "skin" around my gaping eye sockets gave away my pleasure.
"I'm sorry. I'm soo soo sooorrryy.." He wailed and cried. He begged. I waited patiently, savoring his impotence.
"There's no mercy for the likes of you." I moved forwards and brought my claws up to his face. I lifted him up and punched holes in his cheeks. It was amusing to watch him wet himself. I truly delighted in his misery, and then I felt the hunger. I flexed my neck and my hair fanned out, my Gorgon-like visage inspiring even more terror. I sunk my teeth into his shoulder. I felt the tendons snap, the muscles creak against each other. His scream resounded in the night. I relished each bone as it broke and cracked in my jaws. He screams doubled as the snakes plucked his eyes and tongue out. I felt his organs squish like soft fruits or cooked beans in my mouth. I loved the succulent taste of his iron-enriched meat as his spirit slowly and agonizingly left his body.
But it wasn't enough. It only enraged me more. In my anger, I spent a week throwing that girl from the cemetery into madness. I sinfully tasted her beautiful body I feasted on her meat, and still it did not satiate me. I was bound by blood-lust. Time passed and I ate. No child was safe from his closet, no mother safe from her creaking attic, and no college students safe from the dark corners of their basement apartments.
At some point, I realized that I was alone in my anger. My hunger was beyond insatiable now and I fought against my new instincts. I had hold on to some semblance of reason. I decided to visit her grave one moon-less night. I dug out her corpse and held her decaying remains. I wanted it to end once again and I had no way out. I screeched and cried, and fed on her sickly sweet and sour rotting flesh. I decided to leave her heart intact, the memory of it still seared into my demonic mind. She was gone and I hoped the rest of her body would end the ravenous hunger that I felt.
I set her femur bone aside for dessert.
While sucking the putrifying cartilage off of her sternum, I suddenly heard a screech that made me go numb. No fear, no panic, just numbness. For the first time since her death, I stopped feeling. I wasn't depressed, I wasn't joyous, and I no longer had the desire for senseless violence. The piercing sound formed a song, and a gigantic raven-like figure formed out of the darkness.
"You have found your key, Feaster. Come with me."
"What?" My dumb-struck response painted Irritation on the bird-thing's face.
"You found your key. I'm here to guide you to your door. Let's go." He was impatient and it was rude.
"I didn't know I needed a key. I didn't know there was a door. I was bloody killed by fucking Medusa or something. Don't sit there and expect me to know what's going on." Anger once again coursed through me, though it took some kind of effort. I was tired of everything. Nothing made any sense, and I was done with not understanding. With gritted teeth, I said, "Explain everything to me. Now."
"Who are you to make demands of me? I'm the one offering your freedom. If you want it, you better-"
"I'm quite content to feast on your flesh, raven. Lose the attitude, NOW, and talk." Another screech pierced the air, but I didn't flinch. I had successfully ruffled his feathers with my empty threat.
"Fine. You're lost to shadow. A Feaster took delight in turning you to your wretched-"
"Watch it!"
"-self, instead of killing you. You're one of them now, but your sorrow over your lost mate has kept you somewhat sane. If you have any sense, you'll move on instead of going on and killing things savagely. To do that, you need a key and door, one of which you found already."
"And what is the key exactly?"
"The heart sitting in front of you. It varies from person to person. Most who die in this kind of anguish never find their keys and are left wandering the earth forever. You're lucky you found your key. Now let me take you to your door so this can be done with."
I placed Dana's heart in the small tear in space, and suddenly it opened wide. I faced the void in front of me with hesitation. It didn't instill me with fear, but it wasn't soft and warm, either. Darkness lay beyond, and uncertainty. I started forwards, and stuck my head in.
No words can accurately describe what I saw, except maybe "understanding." It was stark and full. I saw things no one should have to see, things that everyone should see, and things that could never be known. I was tempted to lose myself in it. The image of her heart floated by and my sorrow held me back. This wasn't right. If she moved on, then I was happy enough. But what about the others who couldn't? Why should they be left behind? Worse, what if they were like me?
I stepped back through the door, staring at my raven companion as he came into view. I saw his eyes grow wide and his beaked jaw drop. My glowing eyes reflected in his dark ones.
"How.. How did you come back out?"
"Raven, my will is strong. My sorrow is deep. I know the power of understanding will leave me, but while I still have it, I am choosing to make a difference." I used the energy of knowledge to cleanse myself. I ditched the snake-hair, got rid of the claws and teeth. I took a more human shape, and gave myself wings of darkness and robes of shadow. I clutched the femur in my right hand and it contorted, becoming a flute. To complete the ensemble, I took the sternum in my left hand and fashioned it into a key.
"What are you doing.. How can a Feaster change? I don't understand." The bleak raven wilted with confusion. It was a long time since the ancient bird felt weak compared to anything.
"I am the Keymaster. Go, and tell your kind to expect a lot more people looking for doors."
The quill slid softly across the thin paper as the skeletal monstrosity talked on. The boy's ink drew the femoral flute that lead wandering souls toward their keys. The Keymaster fell to silence, and the boy finished adding the tale to the Library's collection. The dulled nib was cleaned and the quill set aside.
"Keymaster, I understand that I'm neither alive or dead."
"Yes, boy. I cannot help you find your key, if that's what you're wondering." He obviously knew what the boy would ask.
The Writer slumped down. The story had burgeoned his hope for an escape, but it was true: he had nowhere to go. Despite knowing the circumstances, this was the first time his fate actually felt sealed.
"Don't be so down. Your time will come, I know that much. You're doing more important work than you know." The Keymaster's eyes suddenly dimmed. His ancient-looking brow furled a bit. He watched the boy continue to avoid looking at him.
The Keymaster watched on as the Writer cut the quill with a knife. "Is it dull already, boy?"
"Yeah, these quills need to be cut after every session. They're a real pain." Sullenly, the knife scraped forward over and over again.
"I feel for you, boy, and I'm sorry I can't help you..."
The Writer nodded, blinking back a few tears. While he could write well, he clearly wasn't adjusted to the idea of his new job. The skeleton reach down to his side and plucked a feather from his wing.
"You may not know why yet, but trust me, it's important for you to be here. Take this gift." He held out the black feather with a broad, sharp tip at its end.
"You don't need to cut it, and it'll never dull." The boy was caught off-guard. He looked up into the the skeleton's eyes.
"Thank you, Keymaster."
I caught a post over on r/Creepy the other day, and it really inspired me. Here's a link to the pic: The Keymaster
Hope you guys enjoyed it. I'm working my way forward towards more scary stuff.
Original Post
"So, um, what brings you to the Library?" He tried to be nonchalant as he averted his eyes from the grostesquely elegant form in front of him. A coarse whisper, riddled with some slight cracking, caused his shoulders to tense.
"You are the Writer, are you not, boy?"
He turned to his left and gazed at the Scribe who was here to help him with his first few weeks. He offered no protection from the creature, but the boy knew he was safe anyway. He learned from the past few sessions that no matter how emotional they got, they couldn't hurt him. He looked around. Shelves upon shelves filled with books upon books surrounded the room he was in, yet this was not even close to a significant portion of the Library. Intimidation swelled, and he let out a sigh to relieve the pressure. Seconds dragged on, but there was no real hurry. He was beginning to feel resigned to his fate.
"I am." He eyes danced from the skull of the creature to the uninterested Scribe who was leafing through a tiny grimoire. The robed figure on the sideline didn't intervene anymore, like he had during the training period.
"I'm here to tell my tale."
"I'm, um, I'm still sort of new, so p-please bare with m-me." Nervously, the boy dipped the nib into an inkwell of dark crimson, dabbed and scraped it on the blotting paper, and with a sudden, forced determination, he began to write.
It was a beautiful day and I finally found myself off work. I had woken up early, done a dozen chores, and decided to surprise my wonderful girlfriend with breakfast in bed. Things had been hard for her the past few weeks. Dana had gotten fired because her boss was a womanizer, and we couldn't afford a lawyer to sue. I did my best to keep her spirits up and today was her day to go interview at a few places. The quick breakfast would definitely give her some energy and confidence.
I stepped into the room that I had left only a few short hours ago to find her body mutilated beyond recognition. Blood splatter was everywhere. Thick footsteps lead out of the window that was surrounded by bloody handprints. My tray of food added to the mess on the floor as primal fear entered me.
I rushed to her side and grasped her hands, a few shuddering gasps escaped her mouth. Her panicked, tear-stricken eyes enraged me. Who? Why? How could another human being do this? Blood pooled in her chest, and I could see the inside walls of her lungs. She looked at me for comfort.
"I love you." I told her the only thing I was sure of. She wasn't going to make it. I wasn't going to make it. Her eyes eased their tension, the blood spurting from her slit throat started to slow. Her hands went slack. The image of her stopped heart seared itself into my mind.
The police did all they could, which was absolutely nothing. Clear fingerprints from the windows failed to precipitate a conviction. My resolve failed me. I became a recluse, either locking myself at home or weeping for hours at Dana's grave. It lasted for weeks, until I showed up at the cemetery to see a girl by her headstone. I didn't take kindly to the violation of my privacy and said some rash things. She made the horrible mistake of blurting out that she was glad that my girlfriend died. Apparently she wanted to be my lover. I pushed her away and ran home.
I was in such a horrible funk that I didn't even notice the storm. A million warning sounds would have tipped me off, but in my grief I ignored them all. When the darkness congealed in front of my freshly-snuffed fireplace, my blood didn't run cold; it had already been frozen from weeks of loss. The creature of darkness sneered at me and I welcomed my death. I didn't satisfy it with screams when it took its snake-laden hair to my back, its misaligned teeth sinking into my flesh. The poison seared my skin and boiled in my veins, and I weeped happily as the creature drank my blood. Unfortunately, I wouldn't find relief.
"Oh you won't die. I've felt your anger. I know your misery. I feel compassionate for you." The words were spat out with a horrid mixture of delight and contempt. "You'll soon look like me, and then you, too, can feast off of puny mortal lives." It cackled. In my anger, my madness, I found myself cackling, too.
I had been watching him for days. My new instincts told me he was the one behind Dana's death. He may have been enraged by his fourth girlfriend's cheating, but the prick took it out on the only one I had ever truly loved by firing her. Then he killed her. I stalked him from the shadows. I tortured him with noises in the night. I misplaced the things in his house while he slept. He slowly started to grow paranoid. The thought of his heart beating faster made me smile as my game advanced.
One night, he came home alone and I knew it was time. I stretched myself out; the cobras and vipers in my hair hissed and dripped venom. Every lightbulb in the house shattered as I screeched with my new vocal chords. I was happy. I pulled myself fully into the world inside his closet, and I slowly pushed open the door. I saw his eyes widen in time with the creak.
"OH GOD, NO! WHAT-"
He fell silent because my happiness got the better of me and I grinned too wide. The sharp teeth glistened in the dim moonlight casting reflections on the floor.
"You bastard, you killed her. You mutilated her. Your fucking handprints were on the window and you got away. I'm really going to enjoy this."
His fear multiplied as understanding flooded his mind. I felt my cheeks pull even tighter and wrinkled "skin" around my gaping eye sockets gave away my pleasure.
"I'm sorry. I'm soo soo sooorrryy.." He wailed and cried. He begged. I waited patiently, savoring his impotence.
"There's no mercy for the likes of you." I moved forwards and brought my claws up to his face. I lifted him up and punched holes in his cheeks. It was amusing to watch him wet himself. I truly delighted in his misery, and then I felt the hunger. I flexed my neck and my hair fanned out, my Gorgon-like visage inspiring even more terror. I sunk my teeth into his shoulder. I felt the tendons snap, the muscles creak against each other. His scream resounded in the night. I relished each bone as it broke and cracked in my jaws. He screams doubled as the snakes plucked his eyes and tongue out. I felt his organs squish like soft fruits or cooked beans in my mouth. I loved the succulent taste of his iron-enriched meat as his spirit slowly and agonizingly left his body.
But it wasn't enough. It only enraged me more. In my anger, I spent a week throwing that girl from the cemetery into madness. I sinfully tasted her beautiful body I feasted on her meat, and still it did not satiate me. I was bound by blood-lust. Time passed and I ate. No child was safe from his closet, no mother safe from her creaking attic, and no college students safe from the dark corners of their basement apartments.
At some point, I realized that I was alone in my anger. My hunger was beyond insatiable now and I fought against my new instincts. I had hold on to some semblance of reason. I decided to visit her grave one moon-less night. I dug out her corpse and held her decaying remains. I wanted it to end once again and I had no way out. I screeched and cried, and fed on her sickly sweet and sour rotting flesh. I decided to leave her heart intact, the memory of it still seared into my demonic mind. She was gone and I hoped the rest of her body would end the ravenous hunger that I felt.
I set her femur bone aside for dessert.
While sucking the putrifying cartilage off of her sternum, I suddenly heard a screech that made me go numb. No fear, no panic, just numbness. For the first time since her death, I stopped feeling. I wasn't depressed, I wasn't joyous, and I no longer had the desire for senseless violence. The piercing sound formed a song, and a gigantic raven-like figure formed out of the darkness.
"You have found your key, Feaster. Come with me."
"What?" My dumb-struck response painted Irritation on the bird-thing's face.
"You found your key. I'm here to guide you to your door. Let's go." He was impatient and it was rude.
"I didn't know I needed a key. I didn't know there was a door. I was bloody killed by fucking Medusa or something. Don't sit there and expect me to know what's going on." Anger once again coursed through me, though it took some kind of effort. I was tired of everything. Nothing made any sense, and I was done with not understanding. With gritted teeth, I said, "Explain everything to me. Now."
"Who are you to make demands of me? I'm the one offering your freedom. If you want it, you better-"
"I'm quite content to feast on your flesh, raven. Lose the attitude, NOW, and talk." Another screech pierced the air, but I didn't flinch. I had successfully ruffled his feathers with my empty threat.
"Fine. You're lost to shadow. A Feaster took delight in turning you to your wretched-"
"Watch it!"
"-self, instead of killing you. You're one of them now, but your sorrow over your lost mate has kept you somewhat sane. If you have any sense, you'll move on instead of going on and killing things savagely. To do that, you need a key and door, one of which you found already."
"And what is the key exactly?"
"The heart sitting in front of you. It varies from person to person. Most who die in this kind of anguish never find their keys and are left wandering the earth forever. You're lucky you found your key. Now let me take you to your door so this can be done with."
I placed Dana's heart in the small tear in space, and suddenly it opened wide. I faced the void in front of me with hesitation. It didn't instill me with fear, but it wasn't soft and warm, either. Darkness lay beyond, and uncertainty. I started forwards, and stuck my head in.
No words can accurately describe what I saw, except maybe "understanding." It was stark and full. I saw things no one should have to see, things that everyone should see, and things that could never be known. I was tempted to lose myself in it. The image of her heart floated by and my sorrow held me back. This wasn't right. If she moved on, then I was happy enough. But what about the others who couldn't? Why should they be left behind? Worse, what if they were like me?
I stepped back through the door, staring at my raven companion as he came into view. I saw his eyes grow wide and his beaked jaw drop. My glowing eyes reflected in his dark ones.
"How.. How did you come back out?"
"Raven, my will is strong. My sorrow is deep. I know the power of understanding will leave me, but while I still have it, I am choosing to make a difference." I used the energy of knowledge to cleanse myself. I ditched the snake-hair, got rid of the claws and teeth. I took a more human shape, and gave myself wings of darkness and robes of shadow. I clutched the femur in my right hand and it contorted, becoming a flute. To complete the ensemble, I took the sternum in my left hand and fashioned it into a key.
"What are you doing.. How can a Feaster change? I don't understand." The bleak raven wilted with confusion. It was a long time since the ancient bird felt weak compared to anything.
"I am the Keymaster. Go, and tell your kind to expect a lot more people looking for doors."
The quill slid softly across the thin paper as the skeletal monstrosity talked on. The boy's ink drew the femoral flute that lead wandering souls toward their keys. The Keymaster fell to silence, and the boy finished adding the tale to the Library's collection. The dulled nib was cleaned and the quill set aside.
"Keymaster, I understand that I'm neither alive or dead."
"Yes, boy. I cannot help you find your key, if that's what you're wondering." He obviously knew what the boy would ask.
The Writer slumped down. The story had burgeoned his hope for an escape, but it was true: he had nowhere to go. Despite knowing the circumstances, this was the first time his fate actually felt sealed.
"Don't be so down. Your time will come, I know that much. You're doing more important work than you know." The Keymaster's eyes suddenly dimmed. His ancient-looking brow furled a bit. He watched the boy continue to avoid looking at him.
The Keymaster watched on as the Writer cut the quill with a knife. "Is it dull already, boy?"
"Yeah, these quills need to be cut after every session. They're a real pain." Sullenly, the knife scraped forward over and over again.
"I feel for you, boy, and I'm sorry I can't help you..."
The Writer nodded, blinking back a few tears. While he could write well, he clearly wasn't adjusted to the idea of his new job. The skeleton reach down to his side and plucked a feather from his wing.
"You may not know why yet, but trust me, it's important for you to be here. Take this gift." He held out the black feather with a broad, sharp tip at its end.
"You don't need to cut it, and it'll never dull." The boy was caught off-guard. He looked up into the the skeleton's eyes.
"Thank you, Keymaster."
I caught a post over on r/Creepy the other day, and it really inspired me. Here's a link to the pic: The Keymaster
Hope you guys enjoyed it. I'm working my way forward towards more scary stuff.
Original Post
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