Maddening Little Things that Mad People Like to Type:

Episode: -Lost Count-

Pairing: Seyren x Howard

Reason: A Gift, and very much deserved Gift.

Author's Notes: Pale as I make Undead MMO Ghost Monsters Gay as the Flowers growing in a Unicorn's Ass.

When a heart stops beating, it stops beating. As rhetorical and pointless as that sounds, it is the truth. It's the plain as day truth and there's nothing anyone can do about it. It's the unwritten rule that we all follow, every single one of us. The muscle ceases to pump blood through your body. Without the oxygen infused blood, the cells begin to shut down. Once the cells stop, so do the organs that are made of said cells. It's a chain of reactions that eventually reaches your brain. This is where some people branch that rule's results. They don't know whether to classify you as dead when you heart stops, or you brain. Either way, without one, you're dead.

A second rule applies to this. The universal rule that every rule as an exception, said rule being excluded. Numerous people testify of a second life-linked necessity. While science and logic dictate that this is all superstition, some believe there exists a soul. It as a formless and mass-less entity within everything in the universe. The characteristics that define this magic property are said to vary extremely from individual to individual, and from object to object.

One can use Soul and Heart for the same Definition.

People say that when the physical body has lost all qualifications for sustaining life, the soul leaves it. Where it goes is also a theory that varies from person to person. A common theory that is shared among cultures is the existence of Worldly Bound Spirits. Unable to detach themselves from the material world, these linger on the land of man. Cases of them being able to detach themselves from our plain of existence have been reported, but that is usually through the completion of some sort of event or chain of events. All I can gather is that they are bound to this world by some unfinished business or some unfulfilled want.

Extremes have been documented. Of Earthly tortured and pained organisms who's spirits have been forever bound to the soul by strong emotion. Experts in this field say that it is due to the strong connection between emotions and a soul. Unfortunately, I am no expert so I cannot say, I can only state what I have been told. What I have gathered is that the emotions, if felt to an extreme degree before one's passing, can be the pure force behind the lingering of spirits.

A fascinating Theory, meant to be further Examined.

Locations that have been known for their cruel pastes seem to be the hot-spots for finding examples of these phenomenon. Through this witnesses views, there is one place that stands out among others. In days long gone and forced-to-be forgotten, there used to exist a laboratory of sorts. It's purpose has been long sense forgotten and hidden. Those who claimed to have been involved with the inner workings have either gone Mad, left this world, or removed themselves from this world by their own hands. This was all enough ground evidence that this location deserved investigation.

Let the record show though, that I am not the first to explore this Facility. I have read accounts of numerous other Adventurers, their own brave attempts of reaching the bottom of this wicked place. All of them retell of encounters with murder-programmed robots, and unkind, transparent beings that take no mercy upon others. There were numerous warnings, and numerous accusations of my own sanity. Either way, I entered this home of science.

Crazy People only enjoy Crazy Things is what they Say.

It was as the others had put it. I entered through the only remaining entrance left to that hell-hole, walking like a shadow into the first floor. To my surprise, it was only fairly aged in appearance. My first assumption is to believe they used this part of the laboratory as the living quarters for the workers, when there used to be life down here. The hallways were patrolled by numerous robotic machines. I question not their purpose for only one thing, searching and eliminating anything that breathes. They all marched onward, down every hall, carrying axes with blood stained metal. I made it my purpose to avoid any contact with them during my exploration of this floor.

Mingled in with the living accommodations, were a few technical looking objects and areas. I found it common to pass through a few large test tubes with unknown masses of flesh floating inside them. I thanked whatever cosmic being that kept me completely indifferent to what I saw in that place. That was until, I followed some tinted glass that showed a botanical area of sorts. Through my inner questions as to how how long all the flora inside the area has survived, I almost missed it. It was the lightest sound of children laughing and feet running across the grass. It made me contemplate the meaning of the shadows that I caught with my eyes.

Further I Delved, and Further my Mind was Tricked.

The second floor down, that was when the contents of this place became clearer. I have no idea how many people have made it as far I have, I only feel remorse for those who did and witnessed the true meaning of this floor. Every step I took revealed more and more of the pained history. The air was stained with depression. It was no wonder that anyone who ever stepped foot into this Supposed place of 'Science' went Mad. It was the text book example of a prison gone mad laboratory. These sort of hellish locations are the ones that should only be read about in books and novels. Farther out of the question for one to ever be victim to the mad willings of the workers that used to passe the floors.

Lazily, I brushed my fingers through the scattered books throughout the entire place. Research documents, personal logs, journals, and text books, they all painted a picture of the purpose for this mad house. One recieted the Holy Warnings against fooling with the idea of Playing God. A worn, make-shift journal relived the sadistic tortured they sent people through to answer the writer's questions. All the while, and my madness be damned, I heard that laughter again. Chains cackled as they were pulled and shook by forces unseen by my eyes. It was justified that my hand quickly found my knife.

This Place had been Bathed in Hatred and Pain.

An oddity seemed to over come me the further I explored. Passed the flooded area, and body size test tubes, I found an entrance to a place lower in this hell. A bitter cold attacked my skin, and an dread silence as well. Lower I let myself go, and further down I began to feel the sadness and hate. A pile of empty scrap metal created a makeshift ladder into this lower level of hell. All signs of it being a laboratory were completely ignored in this place. It screamed of a Torture Chamber. I dared not even make contact with the even the floor here. The feelings of those who had already walked across this ground must have burnt through the soles of their feet. My mind slowly began to fog itself, my own Madness becoming thicker and thicker with every breath I took of the air.

In my struggles to keep my sanity in this place, my eyes drifted to a sight that I have never forgotten. Figures, their bodies barely visible to me, shifted with a tempto around the pile of rubble. I dared not to speak, I couldn't even if I tried. Two young men, their forms held together by their hands, dig a ballet as if my presence made no difference at all. I only just now question if it was due to my stealth or were they merely to involved with each other. One with Green hair led a White haired, pleasant smiles playing across their transparent faces. With every swaying movement there was a breeze to stop the madness. It was unknown how long I observed the two dancing, but I stayed silent the entire thing. In this hell, I found a strange peace between them.

I Never once Questioned their Reasons or Motives.

After sometime, the two finally faded away from each other. It was painful to watch their smiles become more and more shallow. For a moment, I just stayed their, leaning against some rusted metal, looking over the area where they once danced. Their faces still played vividly in my mind. I recalled two named I gathered from one of the many books I obtained in this abandoned Asylum. I stated their names once, just once, and I felt a cold chill run through my spine. It was enough of a warning for me to leave this place, to leave the Dead to their own musings.

It took no time for me to retrace my steps and escape into the outside world. I had left when the sun was high in the sky, and I found myself wondering if it was setting or rising. I have no idea if I proved the theories I had heard. I have made no attempt to stand any ground as too if I should judge if there is indeed, such a thing as Ghosts.

I do know, though, that Maybe there is some truth into the Dead Love Story of Seyren and Howard. May they one day, rest in peace.