Verge of Tangibility - Chapter Seven
Disclaimer: If I owned ninja turtles, fast forward would have never existed.
Warning: Turtles are close, and maybe some hints of slash, but that's mainly just so I can treat them like scary movie characters and make them split up like retards...
One by one.
They kneel in a row. In front of the rat. The master. Ritual. Pointless. Painful. But he can watch him here. And watch them.
Eyes never fully close. He observes. So trusting. He is a fool. So full of love, that the doppelgangers of his family can easily trick him. Take him. Tear away his hide and dress in his flesh. Dry out his kind eyes into transparent covers for their own blood colored orbs.
Blood filled, not colored. And the films that were once his family's peaceful eyes are now the only thing stopping the ghouls from leaking out of the occupied carcasses.
The room is ever shifting. Candles move the shadows to their will.
Shadows are on his side. Trying to fight the light. The light they create. Their energy source. He does his part, but they find ways to dilute the darkness.
Rat is talking but he can not hear him. He hears his real voice. An incomprehensible language. Some demonic undertone to tell secrets to his minions.
It hurts his ears, but he does not flinch. He is not supposed to listen.
They will kill him if they know he listens.
They will kill him anyway.
Candles sputter. The shadow retreats up the wall. It regains some territory a moment later in an unending struggle to fight the glow.
Light burns his flesh. It makes his skin crawl. Makes him wish to take it off.
His options are narrow. They outnumber him. And are too close to him. To protect him, he must play their game.
Just exist in total ignorance. Even if they know he knows. It is a game.
Just exist. Play the game. Keep up the illusion that everything is normal.
…
Just existing is not working for him anymore.
But the light hurts. He must strike out in the dark. Switch from defensive. To defend his brother.
Play their game in the light. Destroy them in the dark.
Skin burns. Candles feel like a bonfire. No one stirs. Only he is being scorched alive.
But he stands it. Unmoving. Feels his skin melting away. Crisping and sanding to ash on the floor.
Their eyes all open. Empty eyes. Soulless filth. The room spins around as they begin to move in every direction. He resists the urge to hold his head.
They will fall. And he will take back what was never theirs to begin with.
One by one.
