Disclaimey: I own nothing JTHM, though I would like to. Maybe someday
(sarcasm). I love JTHM. OK, now that we've got that done, let's start.
Basically this is just an intro , 'cause I have a wicked cough and don't feel like starting chapter one right now. I'll do it in a minute. Currently: I ate some Ramen an hour ago and right now want to die.
Intro:
This is just a story, either angst or drama with a little bit of a light and funny side. I'm not in the mood for romance right now. (curse my mood swings, I can't work on Beautiful Disaster!) This is basically a story about Devi going down the psycho road w/ help from Sickness, inspired slightly by my dreams and my current depression. Watch as she struggles to stay afloat in the deep water of sanity (holy SHIT what was that about?) and who knows what else happens? I dunno. I don't feel like myself today. I'm usually a little hyper and looking on the negative side at the same time. (Right now my attitude is: 'Fuck everything, I hate writing, I hate people, why are you looking at me?) so my writing is going to be a bit warped today. OK, so I'll start writing chapter one today I guess. Soon. Sickness has turned into a real doll instead of a painting in this story, source: someone who read IFS #2.
OK I changed my mind. Here's chapter one:
Chapter One (it's gonna be short):
*/*/*
Devi raised her brush, freshly dipped in red paint, above the blank canvas before her eyes. Behind her, she heard a voice. A voice that sounded slightly like her own, only tired.
"Hello, Devi," the voice hissed. Devi whirled around, facing the form. But she didn't see what she expected to see.
A small doll was sitting on the little shelf of a second easel behind Devi. The doll had purple pigtails, rather like Devi's own. Her once dead, empty eyes were now in the shape of screws, and she had knives for feet.
"Sickness! What-" Devi gasped. The doll had once been a mere painting.
"I told you before that I would finish myself, and it seems as though I have. But I am not yet complete. I need one thing more," Sickness jeered coldly.
"Stop!" Devi said.
"Your blood, Devi. I need your blood."
"Stop-"
"Why don't you kill yourself, Devi? I need your blood. I could have taken it last time, when I succeeded in cutting your hands open with that jar. But I was only a painting, and it was not enough blood. I need a river of blood; I need you dead."
"Leave me alone you-"
"Kill yourself, while there is still time for you to do it yourself. As I diminish your sanity, I grow stronger. Soon I shall move, and I shall get what I require on my own," Sickness snarled.
Devi clenched her fists.
"Ohohohoh, paper flowers..." Devi started to sing in a strangled voice.
"What are you doing?" Sickness asked, alarmed.
"Ohohohoh, paper flowers," Devi sang again, sinking to the floor, clenching her head in her hands.
Sickness laughed coldly. "I see what you're trying to do. You can't drown me out," she snickered.
"I linger in the doorway, of alarm clock screaming monsters calling my name."
"Your efforts are futile."
"Let me stay where the wind will whisper to me, where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story.."
"You are only weakening yourself by fighting me."
"In my field of paper flowers, and candy clouds of lullaby. I lie inside myself for hours, and watch my purple sky fly over me.."
Sickness watched Devi strain, sitting on her knees on the floor, clenching her scalp with her nails.
"Don't say I'm out of touch, with this rampant chaos, your reality. I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge, the nightmare I built my own world to escape..In my field of paper flowers, and candy clouds of lullaby..."
"I know you can feel yourself wane."
"I lie inside myself for hours, and watch my purple sky fly over me," Devi sang, clenching her head tighter, her fingernails digging into her skin, "...swallowed up in the sound of my screaming, cannot cease for the fear of silent nights. Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming, the goddess of imaginary light....in my field of paper flow...ers...and candy..clouds of lullaby..." Devi sang, beginning to feel her energy drain out of her body, "I lie..inside..myself...for hours...and watch...my purple sky..fly over me..." Devi collapsed to the ground, lying on her side, her scalp bleeding, still struggling to sing faintly "Ohohohoh...purple..flowers...ohohohoh..pur...ple...flowers..." Devi sang desperately, unable to fight Sickness off any longer. She struggled to her feet slowly, glancing wildly around the room.
"You cannot escape."
Devi started for the door, staggering. Everything was spinning. She started to run, dashing blindly. She nearly hit a wall, but she finally reached her apartment door, unlocking the many locks almost blindly and swaying as she exited, beginning to run again. She sprinted down the hall.
*/*/*
OK, that's chapter one. More up soon.
Basically this is just an intro , 'cause I have a wicked cough and don't feel like starting chapter one right now. I'll do it in a minute. Currently: I ate some Ramen an hour ago and right now want to die.
Intro:
This is just a story, either angst or drama with a little bit of a light and funny side. I'm not in the mood for romance right now. (curse my mood swings, I can't work on Beautiful Disaster!) This is basically a story about Devi going down the psycho road w/ help from Sickness, inspired slightly by my dreams and my current depression. Watch as she struggles to stay afloat in the deep water of sanity (holy SHIT what was that about?) and who knows what else happens? I dunno. I don't feel like myself today. I'm usually a little hyper and looking on the negative side at the same time. (Right now my attitude is: 'Fuck everything, I hate writing, I hate people, why are you looking at me?) so my writing is going to be a bit warped today. OK, so I'll start writing chapter one today I guess. Soon. Sickness has turned into a real doll instead of a painting in this story, source: someone who read IFS #2.
OK I changed my mind. Here's chapter one:
Chapter One (it's gonna be short):
*/*/*
Devi raised her brush, freshly dipped in red paint, above the blank canvas before her eyes. Behind her, she heard a voice. A voice that sounded slightly like her own, only tired.
"Hello, Devi," the voice hissed. Devi whirled around, facing the form. But she didn't see what she expected to see.
A small doll was sitting on the little shelf of a second easel behind Devi. The doll had purple pigtails, rather like Devi's own. Her once dead, empty eyes were now in the shape of screws, and she had knives for feet.
"Sickness! What-" Devi gasped. The doll had once been a mere painting.
"I told you before that I would finish myself, and it seems as though I have. But I am not yet complete. I need one thing more," Sickness jeered coldly.
"Stop!" Devi said.
"Your blood, Devi. I need your blood."
"Stop-"
"Why don't you kill yourself, Devi? I need your blood. I could have taken it last time, when I succeeded in cutting your hands open with that jar. But I was only a painting, and it was not enough blood. I need a river of blood; I need you dead."
"Leave me alone you-"
"Kill yourself, while there is still time for you to do it yourself. As I diminish your sanity, I grow stronger. Soon I shall move, and I shall get what I require on my own," Sickness snarled.
Devi clenched her fists.
"Ohohohoh, paper flowers..." Devi started to sing in a strangled voice.
"What are you doing?" Sickness asked, alarmed.
"Ohohohoh, paper flowers," Devi sang again, sinking to the floor, clenching her head in her hands.
Sickness laughed coldly. "I see what you're trying to do. You can't drown me out," she snickered.
"I linger in the doorway, of alarm clock screaming monsters calling my name."
"Your efforts are futile."
"Let me stay where the wind will whisper to me, where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story.."
"You are only weakening yourself by fighting me."
"In my field of paper flowers, and candy clouds of lullaby. I lie inside myself for hours, and watch my purple sky fly over me.."
Sickness watched Devi strain, sitting on her knees on the floor, clenching her scalp with her nails.
"Don't say I'm out of touch, with this rampant chaos, your reality. I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge, the nightmare I built my own world to escape..In my field of paper flowers, and candy clouds of lullaby..."
"I know you can feel yourself wane."
"I lie inside myself for hours, and watch my purple sky fly over me," Devi sang, clenching her head tighter, her fingernails digging into her skin, "...swallowed up in the sound of my screaming, cannot cease for the fear of silent nights. Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming, the goddess of imaginary light....in my field of paper flow...ers...and candy..clouds of lullaby..." Devi sang, beginning to feel her energy drain out of her body, "I lie..inside..myself...for hours...and watch...my purple sky..fly over me..." Devi collapsed to the ground, lying on her side, her scalp bleeding, still struggling to sing faintly "Ohohohoh...purple..flowers...ohohohoh..pur...ple...flowers..." Devi sang desperately, unable to fight Sickness off any longer. She struggled to her feet slowly, glancing wildly around the room.
"You cannot escape."
Devi started for the door, staggering. Everything was spinning. She started to run, dashing blindly. She nearly hit a wall, but she finally reached her apartment door, unlocking the many locks almost blindly and swaying as she exited, beginning to run again. She sprinted down the hall.
*/*/*
OK, that's chapter one. More up soon.