He woke up hungry, again, but being hungry really wasn't the worst part. One of his arms was still chained to the wall, but that was hardly the worst part either. In fact, that was coming close to normal.
He stretched for a minute, working imaginary kinks out of dead muscles before the fact that they had frozen solid forced him to once again realize that he was not a living thing. That was horrifying in a deep and existential way, but really not the worst part. I mean, yes, the sad truth is that while he was asleep he had kind of forgotten some of the highlights of the nightmare his life had become, and to have that carpet ripped out from under you on waking and forcing stolen blood into frozen muscles can sure be a kick in the teeth, but it wasn't the worst part.
Practice time. He peeled back the shirt sleeve of his right arm, which really fucking hurt because it had gotten stuck to the dried blood there, but that was way not the worst part. That was just like ripping off a band-aid, easier even than ripping off a band-aid because it wasn't totally stuck on it was just, like, sticky. He was right handed so his efforts tended to work best with the right hand, and he began waggling his fingers in a series of arcane gestures. None of them were backed up by the magic blood, so nothing happened. Just practice. Stupid, monotonous practice. Annoying, but not the worst part.
Time to up the game, so he split open a vein in his palm. That part always sucked. Still not the worst, but full of suck. You assume that being a corpse means the pain goes away. I mean, in the movies the undead just shrug off bullet after bullet. And scientifically, should those nerve endings really be working the way they used to before death? Everything else needs the magic blood to power it, but those things still fire off like they used to? Really not even fair. More than that, it wasn't the "paper cut on steroids" feeling of opening skin with a knife. That cut that feels like you bumped into something but then suddenly erupts in pain. It would make no damn sense for him to be allowed a knife anyway. Nah, with no knife he had to tear at the palm until it was an open, ugly wound that oozed blood. Dull pain with a sharp twist at the end. And yet still, not the worst part.
This time he made the finger-waggle and said an ancient word from a dead tongue under his breath, as the blood ran down his palm and he begged the fire spirit to do him a solid. Working with fire spirits is annoying as piss. They want nothing better than to make vampires go up like flash paper, and they aren't shy about saying so. 'Bout the only thing they actually like better is blood, but all spirits like that. So spend a little vitae, it's not hard to get them to do what you need. Not the worst part by even a little. In fact, probably second easiest after the stretching.
It all went wrong, of course, but that wasn't the worst either. Wasn't the first time, wouldn't be the last, that's why they call it practice. The fireball formed in his hand but he couldn't get it to go anywhere. With a split second of indecision, it was out of his control. What should've blasted away from his outstretched hand and left an ugly scorch mark on the cavern wall across from him instead creeped slowly up his arm and set the arm on fire. And that hurt. That burned. Well, obviously. He flailed around wildly, panicking, trying not to lose it to the beast. He managed to hold on and stop flailing long enough to get control of himself, and dunk his arm into the nearby rock pool of spring water. That was one of the worst sensations ever. Fire burning his skin, icy cold on the charred flesh, little flakes of skin flapping around under the water and each somehow finding a nerve. That was just about as close to the worst as it could be without actually being the worst. But don't worry, the worst was right around the corner. Almost there.
He pulled his arm out of the water and surveyed the damage. Not terrible. Definitely not good, but not terrible. The fire hadn't been on him long enough to give a human more than a bad first degree, but to vampire flesh it was clear down to the bone. It hurt more than he could have even believed it could. And then he realized the worst part, and that's what finally set him crying. This was way back when, mind, in a time that he hadn't suffered badly enough for the tears to be dried up forever. Nah, they still came now and then. Usually when he reached whatever was the new worst part.
It's not enough, he realized, It didn't work. I didn't do it right.
A tear. I have to do it all again.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
I'll Have the Spare Ribs
Slogutis was out for a stroll one night, consigning himself to a brutal death by starvation. Such was the way of his kind, and he was ready for it. It had been coming for hundreds of years, ever since that grandmother had imported him from the old country in a box of trinkets. She hadn't meant to, and torturing her to death with alien fears had been a good way to pass the time, but each night was likely to be his last so he lived like it. What else is living for, yes?
That was when he heard someone cry out in fear and he turned his head sharply toward the sound. That sound meant food, it meant salvation. Drink it in and live another day...or finally lay down for the longest sleep? Slogutis sighed, and smiled to himself. He shifted his footsteps toward the sound, knowing he would once more choose to go on.
--
Oh...oh god no...is that what I think it is?
He could still hear Wally's laughter, gratefully receding down the dark, narrow tunnel. His shoulder hurt from where it had slammed into the rock wall, but not nearly as bad as his chest did. It ached, both soreness and burning pain. Looking down at the source of the pain, he could see where Wally had stabbed him with...something.
Is that...bone?
Sure looked like bone. Pale white, streaked with red from what had probably been Wally's bloody hands. His first thought was impulse, almost instinct.
I need to get to a hospital.
But of course, that wasn't exactly an option anymore. The first thing they'd notice was the awful stab wound, but it wouldn't take them long to see that he didn't have a pulse. And then from there it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to god knows what else. Not to mention the fact that Wally wouldn't let him go.
It's funny, but I don't remember Wally having a knife or anything.
Of course, it didn't take him long to piece it together. It was a bone, all right, but it was his own rib, the fifth from the top, broken loose and sticking out of his chest. He quickly started screaming again.
--
Slogutis stood over him, giggling, wondering how best to nurture the baby nightmare in front of him. Grow it fat enough to eat. So many options. He had just decided to take the form of the torturer, this Wally, and start being kind to this pitiful thing (the better to sour his waking from the dream) when something happened that Slogutis did not intend.
The thing looked up at him, and quieted because it saw him. Really saw him. Well that was odd. It feared him initially, which was as it should be, but on second glance it couldn't have been human. No, this was vilkolakis, a blood-drinker. But there was something else...
Slogutis looked closer. Deep into the thing's pale blue eyes. And what he saw there sat not well at all with him, no not at all. There was blood in this thing, for sure, but it was old blood. Creepy blood. Blood from all the way back in the old country. Was that...?
"Teliavelis?"
The vilkolakis twitched at the word. Through one perfect eye and one beaten black and blue, it stared at Slogutis in a way that Slogutis liked not at all. "Are...are you a Velnias?"
Slogutis chuckled. "Not the Velnias, of course, but a Velnias perhaps. Why, are you afraid of me?"
The vilkolakis nodded, and Slogutis was pleased. "What brings you into this little hole, Teliavelis, in this ugly little vilkolakis?"
It shook its head now, stupid thing. "I don't understand, I'm sorry, please can you get me out of here?"
Slogutis chuckled again, really the thing was quite funny. "No, little vilkolakis, I am not one who helps. I am Slogutis, the nightmare, and whatever it is going on down here I'm here to make it worse." He made the motion to grin impossibly wide and the vilkolakis shuddered again, violently now. Slogutis was starting to like this one.
The vilkolakis was panicking, like a rabbit seeing the knife. "No, no, no, no...no. I belong to Wally. I can't have two. I can't have two."
"Well," Slogutis said, sitting down, "You do now. Whatever that means." He grinned again, and that's when things got really weird.
The vilkolakis reached down and pulled out the piece of rib in his chest, and pointed the bloody thing at Slogutis. Before he realized what the ignorant little thing was doing, the vilkolakis stretched out its other hand in a fist, the thumb between the forefinger and the middle finger.
"By the blood of Teliavelis and the sign of the spyga, I name you Slogutis and I give you my command. Get out of here and never come back."
Shrieking, Slogutis ran from that place and he starved that night. Our hero dropped the rib and looked down at his wound, forcing himself not to scream also. The pain was unimaginable. But at least he still only had one tormentor.
That was when he heard someone cry out in fear and he turned his head sharply toward the sound. That sound meant food, it meant salvation. Drink it in and live another day...or finally lay down for the longest sleep? Slogutis sighed, and smiled to himself. He shifted his footsteps toward the sound, knowing he would once more choose to go on.
--
Oh...oh god no...is that what I think it is?
He could still hear Wally's laughter, gratefully receding down the dark, narrow tunnel. His shoulder hurt from where it had slammed into the rock wall, but not nearly as bad as his chest did. It ached, both soreness and burning pain. Looking down at the source of the pain, he could see where Wally had stabbed him with...something.
Is that...bone?
Sure looked like bone. Pale white, streaked with red from what had probably been Wally's bloody hands. His first thought was impulse, almost instinct.
I need to get to a hospital.
But of course, that wasn't exactly an option anymore. The first thing they'd notice was the awful stab wound, but it wouldn't take them long to see that he didn't have a pulse. And then from there it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to god knows what else. Not to mention the fact that Wally wouldn't let him go.
It's funny, but I don't remember Wally having a knife or anything.
Of course, it didn't take him long to piece it together. It was a bone, all right, but it was his own rib, the fifth from the top, broken loose and sticking out of his chest. He quickly started screaming again.
--
Slogutis stood over him, giggling, wondering how best to nurture the baby nightmare in front of him. Grow it fat enough to eat. So many options. He had just decided to take the form of the torturer, this Wally, and start being kind to this pitiful thing (the better to sour his waking from the dream) when something happened that Slogutis did not intend.
The thing looked up at him, and quieted because it saw him. Really saw him. Well that was odd. It feared him initially, which was as it should be, but on second glance it couldn't have been human. No, this was vilkolakis, a blood-drinker. But there was something else...
Slogutis looked closer. Deep into the thing's pale blue eyes. And what he saw there sat not well at all with him, no not at all. There was blood in this thing, for sure, but it was old blood. Creepy blood. Blood from all the way back in the old country. Was that...?
"Teliavelis?"
The vilkolakis twitched at the word. Through one perfect eye and one beaten black and blue, it stared at Slogutis in a way that Slogutis liked not at all. "Are...are you a Velnias?"
Slogutis chuckled. "Not the Velnias, of course, but a Velnias perhaps. Why, are you afraid of me?"
The vilkolakis nodded, and Slogutis was pleased. "What brings you into this little hole, Teliavelis, in this ugly little vilkolakis?"
It shook its head now, stupid thing. "I don't understand, I'm sorry, please can you get me out of here?"
Slogutis chuckled again, really the thing was quite funny. "No, little vilkolakis, I am not one who helps. I am Slogutis, the nightmare, and whatever it is going on down here I'm here to make it worse." He made the motion to grin impossibly wide and the vilkolakis shuddered again, violently now. Slogutis was starting to like this one.
The vilkolakis was panicking, like a rabbit seeing the knife. "No, no, no, no...no. I belong to Wally. I can't have two. I can't have two."
"Well," Slogutis said, sitting down, "You do now. Whatever that means." He grinned again, and that's when things got really weird.
The vilkolakis reached down and pulled out the piece of rib in his chest, and pointed the bloody thing at Slogutis. Before he realized what the ignorant little thing was doing, the vilkolakis stretched out its other hand in a fist, the thumb between the forefinger and the middle finger.
"By the blood of Teliavelis and the sign of the spyga, I name you Slogutis and I give you my command. Get out of here and never come back."
Shrieking, Slogutis ran from that place and he starved that night. Our hero dropped the rib and looked down at his wound, forcing himself not to scream also. The pain was unimaginable. But at least he still only had one tormentor.
Monday, July 21, 2014
Total Morons
SHYGUY76: Look, all of you need to shut up. You're total morons.
DEMTITTIZ: No, you're the moron.
ARAGORN69: lol
SHYGUY76: Listen, just shut up for a second. I'm trying to explain why you're so wrong it's not even funny anymore.
SHYGUY76: Please tell me that the pic you sent was taken in the goddamn mirror or something, because your circle is totally inverted.
DEMTITTIZ: WTF would you know about it, loser?
PHILLYWITCH has left the chat
DEMTITTIZ: This is right out of White Star's book, "Sendings and Summonings," and her name is really big in the internet community. Who the fuck are you to say you know better than her?
ARAGORN69: /nod
BRIARTHORN: Yeah, cite your sources.
SHYGUY76: OMG HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE I HAVE ACTUALLY SUMMONED THINGS.
DEMTITTIZ: No you haven't.
SHYGUY76: /HEADDESK
SHYGUY76: The summoning circle in S&S is backwards. The energies point outward, not inward.
BRIARTHORN: Of course they point outward, dumbass, they're a ward to keep your summoning from trying to kill you.
SHYGUY76: So help me, bitch, do you even read? That circle's not a warding circle at all. It's a summoning circle.
DEMTITTIZ: Don't talk to her like that, not cool bro. You're welcome to your opinions, but B's my girl.
BRIARTHORN: <3
SHYGUY76: If you really give two shits about her, you'll listen to me. External wardings in summonings are worth less than whatever is currently between your buttcheeks, Dem. If all your focus is outward, it'll never show up.
DEMTITTIZ: Huh?
ARAGORN69: Huh?
SHYGUY76: The point of the circle is to protect the spirit. It needs offerings inside the circle and then strong mojo to keep it fed while you're talking to it.
DEMTITTIZ: HAH! Shows what you know, tool.
DEMTITTIZ: WTF lame kinds of crap have you "summoned" pal? This isn't for your dear aunt Sally to tell you where she buried the will, we're summoning a DEMON.
SHYGUY76: ...
DEMTITTIZ: "..." is right, assmunch. The circle has to point outward to keep the energies of the world from interfering with energy from the Hell plane.
SHYGUY76: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SUMMONING DEMONS THEY WILL FUCKING COME FOR ME AND PUT ME OUT FOR THE SUN.
DEMTITTIZ: Huh?
ARAGORN69: Huh?
BRIARTHORN: Jesus, now what is your problem? If you don't want info on magickal workings, you're on the wrong board.
SHYGUY76: Y'know what, you're totally 100% right. I was wrong and you were right. Have fun, best wishes, hope your ritual goes off without a hitch.
SHYGUY76 has left the chat.
--
6/5/2013 - Police are baffled tonight by what is being described as a cult murder and/or suicide here in the suburbs of Philadelphia. Detective Pete Saunders said that the current assumption is that some kind of wild animal was brought into the basement by the three teenagers for ritual sacrifice, but the animal broke free and none of the would-be-warlocks survived.
"It was effin' sick," Saunders said, censoring his speech for our recording. "We got in there and the heads had been ripped clean off every one of them. Black candles and crap everywhere."
As of this time, the police are not expecting to find any surviving witnesses.
DEMTITTIZ: No, you're the moron.
ARAGORN69: lol
SHYGUY76: Listen, just shut up for a second. I'm trying to explain why you're so wrong it's not even funny anymore.
SHYGUY76: Please tell me that the pic you sent was taken in the goddamn mirror or something, because your circle is totally inverted.
DEMTITTIZ: WTF would you know about it, loser?
PHILLYWITCH has left the chat
DEMTITTIZ: This is right out of White Star's book, "Sendings and Summonings," and her name is really big in the internet community. Who the fuck are you to say you know better than her?
ARAGORN69: /nod
BRIARTHORN: Yeah, cite your sources.
SHYGUY76: OMG HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE I HAVE ACTUALLY SUMMONED THINGS.
DEMTITTIZ: No you haven't.
SHYGUY76: /HEADDESK
SHYGUY76: The summoning circle in S&S is backwards. The energies point outward, not inward.
BRIARTHORN: Of course they point outward, dumbass, they're a ward to keep your summoning from trying to kill you.
SHYGUY76: So help me, bitch, do you even read? That circle's not a warding circle at all. It's a summoning circle.
DEMTITTIZ: Don't talk to her like that, not cool bro. You're welcome to your opinions, but B's my girl.
BRIARTHORN: <3
SHYGUY76: If you really give two shits about her, you'll listen to me. External wardings in summonings are worth less than whatever is currently between your buttcheeks, Dem. If all your focus is outward, it'll never show up.
DEMTITTIZ: Huh?
ARAGORN69: Huh?
SHYGUY76: The point of the circle is to protect the spirit. It needs offerings inside the circle and then strong mojo to keep it fed while you're talking to it.
DEMTITTIZ: HAH! Shows what you know, tool.
DEMTITTIZ: WTF lame kinds of crap have you "summoned" pal? This isn't for your dear aunt Sally to tell you where she buried the will, we're summoning a DEMON.
SHYGUY76: ...
DEMTITTIZ: "..." is right, assmunch. The circle has to point outward to keep the energies of the world from interfering with energy from the Hell plane.
SHYGUY76: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SUMMONING DEMONS THEY WILL FUCKING COME FOR ME AND PUT ME OUT FOR THE SUN.
DEMTITTIZ: Huh?
ARAGORN69: Huh?
BRIARTHORN: Jesus, now what is your problem? If you don't want info on magickal workings, you're on the wrong board.
SHYGUY76: Y'know what, you're totally 100% right. I was wrong and you were right. Have fun, best wishes, hope your ritual goes off without a hitch.
SHYGUY76 has left the chat.
--
6/5/2013 - Police are baffled tonight by what is being described as a cult murder and/or suicide here in the suburbs of Philadelphia. Detective Pete Saunders said that the current assumption is that some kind of wild animal was brought into the basement by the three teenagers for ritual sacrifice, but the animal broke free and none of the would-be-warlocks survived.
"It was effin' sick," Saunders said, censoring his speech for our recording. "We got in there and the heads had been ripped clean off every one of them. Black candles and crap everywhere."
As of this time, the police are not expecting to find any surviving witnesses.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
The Voices, God the Voices
God, I just wish I could see one of them.
I step into the grove, and there they are. The voices, always the voices. Sometimes they're whispering, sometimes they're shouting. Sometimes it sounds like they're trying to seduce me or something, but that just can't happen anymore.
They come with me when I leave the grove, duh, they're just not as strong. God, I hate that place. I mean, obviously, I need it. It's powerful magic, I really don't have a choice. If I didn't have it, I couldn't do the real good magic no matter how many voices shout in my ear. But is it powerful magic because the voices are there? Or do they come to the fire altar because they sense something? I know I sense something. Ever since the night they told me to build it.
I dug the rock pool until my fingers bled and cut my arm opening the sewer pipe so the water wouldn't be stagnant. I had to set the altar fire to burn everlasting, scorching my hands until they cracked open in the process. I had to plant the tree and water it with more blood. They needed so much blood.
I didn't want to hurt her. I really didn't. If I could've done it myself then I honestly would have. But the voices needed so much blood, there just wasn't enough in my entire body. I'm sorry, whatever-your-name-was.
Because now she's lying face down in the rock pool with her head caved in by some rock I found somewhere. I put her face down in case she wasn't really dead, so the water would finish the job. Their suggestion. Of course, now she's dead, all her blood's gone. It's all gone down that tree, into that fire, and the rest is leaking out into the rock pool. Just like the spirits told me to.
Because of course they're spirits, I know they're spirits. I know I'm not crazy and they're not just voices in my head that follow me everywhere and somehow have control of the volume knob whenever I'm in the grove. Well, I might be crazy. The fact that the voices aren't just in my head doesn't mean I'm not a little off-kilter, I get that. Just like the fact that only I can hear them doesn't mean they're just in my head.
I just wish I could see one, just once. So I know what they look like, so it's not just a constant disembodied voice. Even if it was terrible, like, horrifying and stuff. Doubt it could drive me batty, anyway.
One of them says he could take over the girl's body. Just long enough so I could see him, he says. All I'd have to do is spill more blood, and sing his daina while I do it. Maybe Velnias's too.
But I know that asshole, and I know better than to trust him. He's one of the really bad ones.
I step into the grove, and there they are. The voices, always the voices. Sometimes they're whispering, sometimes they're shouting. Sometimes it sounds like they're trying to seduce me or something, but that just can't happen anymore.
They come with me when I leave the grove, duh, they're just not as strong. God, I hate that place. I mean, obviously, I need it. It's powerful magic, I really don't have a choice. If I didn't have it, I couldn't do the real good magic no matter how many voices shout in my ear. But is it powerful magic because the voices are there? Or do they come to the fire altar because they sense something? I know I sense something. Ever since the night they told me to build it.
I dug the rock pool until my fingers bled and cut my arm opening the sewer pipe so the water wouldn't be stagnant. I had to set the altar fire to burn everlasting, scorching my hands until they cracked open in the process. I had to plant the tree and water it with more blood. They needed so much blood.
I didn't want to hurt her. I really didn't. If I could've done it myself then I honestly would have. But the voices needed so much blood, there just wasn't enough in my entire body. I'm sorry, whatever-your-name-was.
Because now she's lying face down in the rock pool with her head caved in by some rock I found somewhere. I put her face down in case she wasn't really dead, so the water would finish the job. Their suggestion. Of course, now she's dead, all her blood's gone. It's all gone down that tree, into that fire, and the rest is leaking out into the rock pool. Just like the spirits told me to.
Because of course they're spirits, I know they're spirits. I know I'm not crazy and they're not just voices in my head that follow me everywhere and somehow have control of the volume knob whenever I'm in the grove. Well, I might be crazy. The fact that the voices aren't just in my head doesn't mean I'm not a little off-kilter, I get that. Just like the fact that only I can hear them doesn't mean they're just in my head.
I just wish I could see one, just once. So I know what they look like, so it's not just a constant disembodied voice. Even if it was terrible, like, horrifying and stuff. Doubt it could drive me batty, anyway.
One of them says he could take over the girl's body. Just long enough so I could see him, he says. All I'd have to do is spill more blood, and sing his daina while I do it. Maybe Velnias's too.
But I know that asshole, and I know better than to trust him. He's one of the really bad ones.
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