Behold! The Nightmare presents…
Title: Bring Me to Life
Author: Arrienette.
Rating: PG-13.
Summery: Two leaders (Micah & Bridgi) wake up to find that they are both alive and, somehow, chosen to lead together… Will they succeed this time? Or will they meet the same bloody end? Or even worse; will it be at the hands of one another?
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Micah, Children of the Corn, He Who Walks Behind the Rows, or any of that stuff… I only own Bridgette and Gideon. Shindo is owned by Shindo.
"Bad things
Dead things
Sad things have to happen...
Sometimes,
Sometimes,
Sometimes,
Sometimes..."
- Dead Things by Emiliana Torrini.
Close your eyes…
And Bridgette did. Sitting, with her legs crossed, on the floor of the barn, she rested her head in her hands and closed her eyes… showing dreadful posture, as always… maybe one day she'd actually form a full O.
She needed to go to The Blue Place…
What is "The Blue Place", you ask? Well, to be honest, I'm not really sure… and neither is Bridgette… Though she believed it is a place of He Who Walks Behind the Rows (she could talk, almost face-to-face, with him when in there)… created by Him, inside her mind, where her soul could wonder… and learn.
Learn how, you ask? Well… when there, at a simple request; He Who Walks Behind the Rows would allow her to look over past leaders…
Yes, that's right. He allowed her to watch their reins. With a simple touch she could walk around their worlds… and see exactly what happened on their terms… ever her own was there, now… now that she had failed.
… And she had to wonder… if this new leadership shared between Micah and herself would ever appear there…
There was a catch to what appeared there… the leader had to be dead.
The last bit: Why is it called The Blue Place? Because there is no light (if you're not watching an X-leader)… except for that of these strange, florescent lights… blue lights. It's as if that entire world were runned through a blue filter.
So that's coverage of what we know of the place…
Now; Bridgette opened her eyes again… and there she was; The Blue Place.
She stood up, slowly, and brushed off her skirt. She watched, numbly… waiting for the Father… waiting for He Who to come to her.
And alas; he did.
"Bridgette," the powerful voice spoke her name. She turned, as if to face Him… but, as always, there was no one there. This was the only place where His voice was a voice… she could hear where it was coming from (though still, not see Him). Where as, before, His voice was just a voice in her head... "Why have you called me?"
"I have a few things to ask, Father."
"Then ask."
Bridgette took in a deep breath, and decided: Ok… direct approach. "Was it you who brought us back?"
"What?
"Was it you who brought us back," Bridgette repeated. "… to life?"
"I don't believe I did… No, infact, I did not."
"Then who did?"
"I do not know."
Bridgette shivered. Great, it had not been He Who Walks Behind the Rows who had brought them back… someone else, no idea who, had… not to mention the fact that she had been WRONG about something… Oh! She hated that.
"Do you have anything else to ask me, my child?" He Who took her from her thoughts. He was a busy God and couldn't sit and chat all day, I guess.
"Oh, yes!" Bridgette nodded. "One last thing… if we are to be alive, as we are now… shall we continue your work?"
A pause of silence, before He spoke again. "Hmm… I had not planned for this; your reincarnation was unexpected… but it seems right. Yes, the two of you shall work together, now. You may start at once."
"Yes Father," a smile grew full on Bridgette's unnaturally pale face.
"We shall."
Micah returned to the barn.
Evening was dawning in the west, and golden light spilled out over everything in the small farming community of Valentine, Nebraska.
One day had gone by inbetween the day of their reincarnation and this day… a day of, merely, getting used to the idea of being alive again… it seemed Bridgette didn't care much at all… but Micah couldn't stop thinking about it.
Sighing, Micah stepping through the door of the barn, shut it behind him, and began inward. He knew he shouldn't think about it too much… if he did; it would drive him crazy… but you try being dead for who-knows-how-long and then being alive again. See if it doesn't fuck you up a little.
Fine then… don't think about it, he told himself. And scanned the around for a new distraction… the first thing that caught his eye was a pile of black cloths lain on the floor… which, he soon identified to be Bridgette's clothing.
Tread… cautiously, burst into his mind when he identified the items.
Taking slow, careful steps, he watched where he was going. "Bridgette?"
Silence, for a moment… and then… "Over here!" Her voice came from the end of the barn, in one of the stalls where a horse or a cow would usually be... and the dim, orange light of a lantern flickered from there, too. Micah hesitated, but did jog over.
Bridgette's wicked green glare greeted him; a devilish smirk playing on her pumpkin colored lips. She bounced to stand up… warring new clothes: dark blue denim hip-hugger short shorts and a black halter bikini top, and, for jewelry, a plain black choker, a black string choker with extras tickling her shoulder, and a black string necklace that had a bird's skull tied to it.
Bridgette was 5'3"; scrawny… her hair was a dirty ash blonde in color, and belly-button length. Her eyes were green, big and clear and almost always surrounded by black liquid-liner. Her chest was rather small and her hips narrow for a girl her age.
"Micah! Just who I needed to see," Bridgette beamed.
"Why? What is it?" He asked, running a hand through his own thick black hair.
"I have great news!" Micah gave her a stare that so bluntly said "…go on". "I have spoken with He Who Walks Behind the Rows… he says we may resume out mission at once… together!"
Micah nodded. He wore a simple black long-sleeve shirt, black vest, black pants and black shoes… cloaked in black from head-to-toe… and, due to the degree of how ungodly skinny he was, it all hung baggy on him.
"Now your turn," Bridgette turned his attention back to her. "… What have you learned?"
"Two weeks from this upcoming Friday; the adults shall all be gathering together at the school for a parent/teacher conference… 85 of the adults in this town have a school-age child or children, that means that 85 of the adults will be at that meeting… it is the perfect time to strike."
"So we have two weeks and three days to gather up His forces?" Bridgette whispered. Micah nodded, and continued: "And we must split them into two groups… the bigger should go with us to the parent/teacher conference… the smaller should be sent to slay the remaining 15 at their homes… that way, we can finish off all the adults quickly, in one night."
Bridgette smiled wide. "Sounds wicked, let's do it."
The plan was set.
Two week and three days.
Apparently; that was all the time they needed. By the chosen night they had their forces, their children, on His side. Almost all of the children were, now, behind them… ready for their mission.
Micah took the larger group to the meeting while Bridgette took the smaller to town... he knew she was much more… attracted to the kill, the violence, the blood – the massacre – then he… but it was his plan so he also knew that she would let it slide
The children watched Micah timidly.
One, in particular… a young, slender girl of sixteen with shoulder length blonde hair (that hangs over the right side of her face) and dark blue eyes. Gripping a rather large kitchen knife in her right hand, her eyes watched his ever move to detail.
Was he – were they all – really going to do what he said they were going to do?
Micah closed his eyes, wandering, as he led the children, through the halls of the school. This school, alone, covered first-to-twelfth grade… due to the fact that this was a very small town and all the children could fit in this one (rather large) building.
He closed his eyes and listened; listening for the whispers of the Father to guide the way… for Micah had never been in this building before; and did not know where the parents would be meeting.
Turning down a hall, he sensed they were near.
Micah opened his eyes. One… two… three, he counted the door as he walked by them, four… they're in here.
He stopped abruptly. The children tripped to a halt. Turning to face them he razed a delicate, pale hand, motion towards the door and nodded… the children echoed the nod.
Micah smiled, and moved the same pale hand to touch the door knob. With a gentle twist of his wrist the door slipped open ever so little.
The voices of the adults – the heathens – floated out through the crack. Micah smirked (he never fully smiles, does he?) and pushed his way in. The children he had brought with him followed… all except for one: the slender blonde with the dark blue eyes.
But she would go unnoticed, for now.
The other children, including Micah, clumped around the door then spread out along the wall. The dark blue eyed girl watched from outside, keeping the door open only a crack.
The adults stopped their bickering, and all turned to gaze upon the children. Strange looks over took their faces… so many identifying their children. It seemed as if they all didn't even notice the weapons their children were equipped with… or, perhaps, they didn't want to notice.
"Excuse me, children," A stick-figure of a man called out to the children from the other end of the room… the dark blue eyed girl identified him momentarily as the principle of the school; Mr. Parker. "This meeting his grown ups only."
"Isn't that that point?" Micah purred in reply; his eyes steadily bouncing from adults to adult… from heathen to heathen… where as; the other children all had their eyes locked on one… their parents or parental guardian.
Mr. Parker stuttered out a series of random sounds that added up to nothing. A strange and confused expression etched every line into his face. Finally, he said something that actually made some valid sense: "C-can we… help you?"
Micah sighed through his nose and bit down hard on his lip. "No… no, I don't believe you can."
The look of confusion only grew on Mr. Parker's face.
It seemed all the adults were confused… with confused looks on their faces… except some, a small few more red-neck them the others, who seemed down right angry with the interruption.
Micah looked back at His children, the small smirk beginning to form again on his direly pale lips, and made a "go on" sort of motion.
The children knew exactly what he meant and obeyed his orders. Springing to life; the first shot that would be fired, so to speak, came from a tawny haired sixteen or seventeen years old boy named Gideon Manson (who had been appointed Right-Hand-Man to Bridgette and Micah… even though such wasn't exactly necessary). He slammed the blade of his sickle deep in the back of a woman whose hair (naturally auburn) was beginning to gray.
Marissa Harrison. She shrieked; a gaggley sort of sound, threw her arms ups, then crashed face-first to the table she was sitting at… bloody.
A shaky smile formed, somehow, on Gideon's face… and he yanked his sickle back out of her back; a sickening noise produced.
The other adults were all, now, frozen in terror… it made them easy targets… Hell, it made them perfect targets!
The children spread out, then, through the entire room… a bloody massacre taking place right before the blonde's eyes… and Micah, their "leader", may have, himself, killed one or two people there, that night.
Shindo Lewis, our dark blue eyed blonde, watched all this take place… it took only five, ten, fifteen minutes… not long before they were all laying dead on the floor and in their chairs… thrown over the tables or left just in a heap.
When the children were finished, they slower gathered together again… it struck Shindo, then, that they would soon leave their massacre behind… and discover her… discover that she hadn't done a thing… not a thing, but watched. She couldn't let that happen… Lord only knows what they'd do to her. So she did something completely and totally out of character..:
She turned… and ran.
Bridgette wandered into the kitchen.
... She couldn't sleep... sometimes she couldn't... sometimes she had bipolar periods of insomnia... it happens.
Catching the numbers of the ticking clock; it was late 1, nearing 2, a.m... Tomorrow, already?, but that was good... because, after dawn, they were going to move into a lovely house closer in town... It was old and seemed the perfect image of a life-size Victorian (age) doll house (in Bridgette's opinion, anyway)… Painted a lovely deep purple, it was, with a plain, wooden porch that went around two of the four side of the lovely house: the left and the front.
A few days had gone by since, what was now referred to as, the Chosen Night. All arrangements, painstakingly, had been made... now; they were merely preparing to fulfill them. Many new rules had been made; too… the way of life around these parts was now (and, hopefully, forever) His way of life.
There was more then enough room for a third person to stay in the house (and a guest room, of course), but Bridgette dreaded the idea of having Gideon living with them… which would be him because he was next in the "food chain"… But hey; life was fine as just Bridgette and Micah.
She smiled, mindlessly. Yeah… she really liked Micah… I MEAN, um… leading with Micah… yeah… cough, cough.
Bridgette wandered over to the cabinet, standing on her tippy toes; she pulled out a cup, then turned to the fridge, pulled it open, and filled the cup with milk.
She took a quick gulp of the creamy white liquid... and stopped.
What was that sound?
She turned towards the back door... there was a scratching sound, coming from out side... a soft, gentle scratching sound... and muffled moans... that seemed to whine and beg at the same time.
Bridgette forgot she was carrying the glass of milk and padded over to the door without remembering to set it down.
She brushed a side the curtain... but couldn't see anything outside... so she looked at the knob... Should I do it?, she pondered. Fuck, why not? She gasped it, twisted, and yanked the door open.
"MEROW!" the little voice declared, eagerly.
A kitten... it was a kitten.
Bridgette crouched down. The kitten jumped on her lap and began to burrow into her stomach and arms, meowing loudly and rapidly as if trying to explain to Bridgette what had happened to her.
"Shhh, shhh, be calm... it's alright, everything is alright, now..." Bridgette just kept telling the little kitty, clutching it close to her... the kitten was so small! It could sit, even sleep, in two hands comfortably with room to spare.
It was a solid stone grey kitten, short furred, with a white chin, white front paws, white back legs, and a fat white stripe down his chest... it had the longest, scrawny, bony, triangular, little tail Bridgette had ever seen!
She'd guessed it'd be, about, 3 weeks... 3 1/2 at the max.
The kitten looked up at her with eyes that had not yet taken on their own color, still a dark, almost blue/black, blue... with the black pupils still untrained to thin or expand, only a bit darker then the irises... and began to settle down as Bridgette held it up in her hands, looking at it, too... it was so small, she had to wonder if it was old enough to leave its mother... but then again, it seemed so.
So small... so fragile...
And Bridgette was hooked.
