I felt inspired, so here you go, two chapters in two days.
This is gonna be a creepy chapter and will be filled with creepy rhymes and the mention of death. If this is too much, then skip to the end and then continue to next chapter.
Rhymes include: Pop goes the weasel - Three blind mise - Ring around the Rosie – little bo beeb - Oranges and Lemons.
I don't own TMNT...
'Poor little Donnie, can't move...'
'What a shame… His family is ill, and he can't help them.'
'It sure is sad… Let's sing for him! That will make him feel better!'
'What a delightful idea, he'll enjoy it I bet!'
'What about some rhymes, helping him wet his bed.'
"Huh? Where am I? Who's talking?"
'Look at him, all alone and confused.'
'Don't be afraid, we're harmless.'
"Then show yourself!"
'Isn't he cute yelling like that.'
'He is, cute and scared.'
Donnie was sitting all alone in a dark, iron smelling room. His body was unmovable
as if someone or something was holding him down. The only company he had was three unknown kid voices that seemed to find it fun to torture him.
"Hey, let go of me, I-"
His sentence was cut short as a cold zipper somehow zipped his mouth shot.
'Shhh, don't be rude, we're just having fun!'
The voices were laughing, were they laughing at him? Probably.
'Hey, let's sing for him! That should cheer him up.'
'But he's a genius, they don't like singing.'
'Too bad, he doesn't have a choice.
A faint melody slowly increased. Somehow he seemed to know it,
like a song from his childhood, yet It didn't sound as soothing as he remembered...
"Half a pound of antibiotics
Half a pound of illness
That's the way your brothers will go,
Down goes the turtles.
You saw it coming but didn't believe,
Somehow you weren't ready,
That's the way your family died,
Down goes the turtles."
Leo's got the whooping cough,
and Mikey's got the measles,
that's the way the story ends,
Death meets the turtles!"
'Great rhyme my dear brother , I'm proud of you.'
'Me too, lets sing another!'
'It's is my turn, I have a good one prepared.'
'I'm not sure he's ready, you might make him scared.'
Another tune started, and I closed my eyes.
"Three sick boys, three sick boys,
see how they run, see how they run,
They all ran after the enemy, they all ran after the enemy,
Three sick boys, three sick boys,
who poisoned them all with a deadly disease, who poisoned them all with a deadly disease,
three sick boys, three sick boys,
see how they die, see how they die!"
He opened his eyes in panic, looking around for his brothers, but there were still nothing but darkness. Donnie was having enough, he couldn't take it anymore. Whoever did this was torturing him. Suddenly the zipper opened, and he was able to speak again.
"Shut up, all off you! My brothers aren't dead!"
'Sounds like he needs another song to calm down.'
'We'll do that with honor, he's our special guest after all.'
Once again a melody appeared, as creepy as ever as the kids started singing in union.
"Ring-a-round the Rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
Achoo! Achoo!
We all fall down...
Ring around the Rosie,
What do you suppose,
We can do,
To fight the darkness, in which we drown"
Donnie flinched when something started dripping on him. Was it blood? He could hear giggling from the distant as it dripped down on his face and shoulders. It ran down from his beak and into his mouth. It tasted like iron, there was no longer any doubt; blood was dripping from somewhere. He felt like gagging, and the nausea only worsened when he heard his own voice in the distance.
"Ring around the Rosie,
This evil thing, it knows me,
Lost ones around me,
I can't fall down..."
He suddenly found it hard to breathe, as if the oxygen was fading away slowly, arms holding onto his chest and bulling him down.
"Little Donnie has lost his Team
And doesn't know how to find them.
Leave them alone and they'll come home,
Bringing their tails behind them.
Little Donnie fell fast asleep
And dreamed he heard them screaming,
But when he awoke, he found it a joke,
For they were all still sleeping.
Then out he took his needle,
Desperate to safe them.
He tried indeed, but it made his heart bleed,
For they left their tails behind them."
At the last note, he felt the arms let go of him and jolted up, only to hit his head and fall back onto his shell. Was he buried alive? Was that why he was having trouble breathing?
'Time is ticking Donnie, time is fleeting fast.'
'They might still be breathing, but not for long. Soon we'll be the ones to burrow.'
He placed a hand on the coffins ceiling and pushed it, but it was no use, there were no way to escape. Suddenly, as if on cue, the ceiling began to move downwards.
'Time will be their death.'
'Watch as they take their very last breathes.'
"No please, I need more time! Give me more time!" He yelled in horror as the wet box got smaller, slowly squeezing him.
'It appears he's having problems waking.'
'Then let's sing him back to a world of aching.'
"Please, no more singing! And stop rhyming it's freaking me out!"
'He thinks he can stop us, should we tell him the truth?'
'My dear you're dreaming, we're trapped inside you.'
"W-what?"
'Here comes a candle to light you to bed
And here comes a chopper
To chop off your head!
Chip, chop, chip, chop
The last one is dead!'
Here comes a candle to light us to bed
And here comes a chopper
To chop off our heads!
Chip, chop, chip, chop
The last one is dead!'
Donnie woke up with a sudden, cold sweat dripping down his from his forehead. He was soaked, but thankfully it wasn't blood.
His eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness as he looked around the room. They weren't dead, they were just sleeping, the meds would cure them in time. Time, it would take time, but time would cure them, not kill them...
His thoughts got interrupted when he heard the sound of wheezing coming from the nearby couch. That was the couch where Leo were laying, and he sounded pained.
"Little Donnie fell fast asleep
And dreamed he heard them screaming,
But when he awoke, he found it a joke,
For they were all still sleeping."
The rhymes was on constant repeat inside his head. Maybe the voices were true maybe he missed something important.
The wheezing suddenly stopped.
"L-Leo?"
Donnie tried to stand, but fell to the ground.
'Poor little Donnie, can't move...'
"Shut up! You aren't real!"
'It sure is sad….'
The voices were getting louder as the dream slowly found its way into reality. He started crawling his way to the couch military style, a ringing tune inside his head:
"Ring-a-round the Rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
Achoo! Achoo!
We all fall down...
Ring around the Rosie,
What do you suppose,
We can do,
To fight the darkness, in which we drown."
Finally he made it. He managed to pull himself up an onto the couch.
He let a hand on his brother's plastron only realize that his heart weren't beating...
"He tried indeed, but it made his heart bleed,
For they left their tails behind them."