Chapter 36: (A/N: Sorry for the slow update, guys. But that's probably how it's going to be until late May/early June. Finals are coming up and teachers are piling on the work, so while we're not on hiatus, expect much slower updates. Other than that…not much to say.
Rio: Aw, thanks! I really appreciate the support! You're right, there really should be more stories with Ace…
Guest (no signature): Oh well. I'll try to get something a little more suited to your personal taste in horror in the future. ;) I am still new to writing it, so please bear with me. Well he is Ace's guide. What reason was there to distrust him? Appearances aren't everything. Well, the thing he says is a quote, so if you read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass you should theoretically be able to get it. Hope this update wasn't too painfully slow!
Panda Bear: Thanks! No problem. I'll try to step it up in future chapters. ;) Thanks, I will!
TFR: Technically this should have been in the last author's notes, so sorry the reply's late. Thank you! Hahahaha that's okay, your English is a lot better than my French…XD Yes, plot progression is now well on it's way! The alternate backstory was a big part of the story, but it wasn't all of it. It's nice to be moving forward, and I hope I don't write Marco, Thatch, and Whitebeard TOO painfully OOC… Thank you! Sorry the update took so long, I hope you didn't get too bored waiting.
Little (chapter 34): Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! :D Ummm…was it overdone or underdone? You kind of contradict yourself there… The thing is I didn't want to go over stuff too in-depth because I didn't want it to seem overly-redundant. I skimmed over some stuff because It wasn't important. Well, Serpent told him some stuff, but not everything. She asked Ace to trust her and he said she was hiding something from him. She didn't say anything of importance after where I cut it, but I'll go more into it in future chapters, so may I ask you to be patient? Yes! Plot progression ftw! I'm glad you like it so far. :) I hope it continues to live up to your expectations.
Little (chapter 35): It is a little funny. But they weren't expecting what Wonderland is now, so the surprise is part of it. You also have to realize how jarring this stuff is. I mean, yeah they're probably accustomed to violence, but would you honestly be expecting violence like that in the mind of a 10-year-old KID? Not to mention he's your seemingly happy and well-adjusted friend, at least when he's older. As I said before, they were taken by surprise. They're going to get adjusted very quickly. About Marco and his knowledge of the macabre…I have a very (in my mind) interesting head-canon on his backstory that will probably become its own story at some point, but I don't want to go too in depth on it in this story as it's not really all that relevant. Cheshire's a boss. Gotta say, even before writing KtR Cheshire was always my favorite character of Wonderland. :D He's only emaciated, not truly skeletal, per say. Damn close to it, though. (Very true. That point's going to be hit home in this chapter.) Thank you! :D I'm glad you enjoyed that! I agree with what you say here: chapter 35 was mainly setup for Wonderland. They have yet to get into the real…substance that is the section of the story occupied by Wonderland. And yes, madness is far from harmless. Ummm, yes. And so it shall! And don't worry, we'll get into Whitebeard's perspective in this chapter. I'm just so freaked that I'll write him OOC that I tend to avoid him…I'll try to do better in the future. C:
Big Sis of 8: That's a lot of siblings, firstly. Secondly, thanks! :D I'm so new at writing horror, I'm glad I managed to give someone the creeps. C: Great story, be it in book, movie, or videogame form. I only watched part of the old live-action version….never got around to finishing it. I'd recommend reading the book. It's an easy read, for one thing, and it's a classic! Seriously, I recommend it if you have time for reading. Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it that much! I'm glad it doesn't creep you out too much…you may be wary of future chapters, though.
Lastly, I'd like to thank you all for your lovely reviews. I really appreciate it. C: I'm really looking for feedback on the Wonderland section. As I've said before and will say again, I'm new to horror. Let me know what creeps/doesn't creep you out and it'll really help me improve my writing. So please, even if it's criticism, I implore you to leave your feedback!
This chapter has been rated T+/M for VIOLENCE and DISTURBING IMAGERY.
And now, ON WITH THE CHAPTER!)
The forest was, on the surface, much as it had been before. The cherry trees still bloomed; the undergrowth was still lush but not entangling or overgrown. The only visible difference at first was the colors. Everything seemed to have lost its vibrancy. The forest was practically in black and white and the tones of Marco, Thatch, and Whitebeard's clothing and skin seemed over-saturated in that wash of ash and white.
The forest, beyond being drained of color, was entirely silent. The wind itself seemed to hold its breath, not daring to stir the branches lest they rattle against each other. Nothing moved in the undergrowth, no brush nor thicket rustled with the friendly meanderings of wildlife. The air felt heavy, still and dense, nearly stagnant, and no matter how deeply you breathed, it never seemed to really fill your lungs.
The whole forest felt petrified with fear.
As he walked beneath the arching boughs, the dappled sunlight itself seeming to tremble in terror, Whitebeard thought. He'd refused to let himself show surprise at Wonderland, at the violence, the savagery, refused to let himself actually think about what it meant, and only now as they walked through this terrified forest did Whitebeard's mind finally betray him and begin to think, really think, about exactly what they'd seen.
Violence. Madness. Cruelty. Fear. He'd encountered these things before, and in excess, but Wonderland, ah Wonderland was taking it up a notch. The death and ruin that had surrounded them from the beginning, the horror and brutality weren't something that could be pushed away, weren't something they could write off and drop in a corner and deal with. It was everything, everywhere and it was getting worse.
Whitebeard, as much as he didn't want to admit it, had been taken by surprise. The only reason he'd kept it together at all was because he could see that as surprised as he'd been, Thatch and Marco had been too. They'd needed support and dammit he was their father and he could deal with it until they were alright. Well, now they seemed to be alright and Whitebeard allowed himself at least the internal reaction.
What the hell was going on here? How, over the course of a month, one month, had Wonderland turned from the place it had been to this? How were they going to get Ace back? They had no clue where they were, no idea what could be waiting for them in the future. Could they really deal with everything Wonderland seemed ready to dish out?
Whitebeard didn't know. And that scared him.
The trees trembled, the branches clacking against each other like bones. Whitebeard's heart leapt in his chest but he allowed no outward indication of the surprise. The silence of the forest, the death of that cold sea, the cold indifference of Dodo's crucifixion, the joyless smile that had split Dodo's skull, Rabbit rotting in his own flesh, Cheshire and his grinning grinning grinning upsidedownsideup head…they were picking at him, searching for any chink in his armor, any way they could get through and pull at his sanity, pull it apart, pull him apart and maybe he'd die-notdie-die like Dodo, maybe grin himself to pieces, maybe something new because change is good and the Caucus Race is fun fun all in good fun fun fun and there's no time like the present so why not smile, why not bleed, why not turn around and rip out Marco's spine? Why not-
"Look this way." Whitebeard's head snapped up, searching for the source of the voice. "I mean at me, not like me." Whitebeard blinked vigorously, fighting to clear his mind. His eyes, when he reopened them, found Cheshire.
"Cheshire." Whitebeard said, forcing his voice to be steady.
"Hello again." Cheshire replied.
"What are you here for?" Thatch asked. Cheshire didn't even glance away from Whitebeard at him.
"Always with your questions. You aught to know by now I won't answer." Cheshire said, dismissive. Hello, Whitebeard. Cheshire's voice echoed inside Whitebeard's skull, low and intense. How does it feel? To be falling so quickly into the rhythm of savagery?
"Your avoidance of questions is beginning to get annoying." Thatch said, voice flat.
I'm not falling. Violence is rarely the answer and isn't so here. I'm here to save Ace and it'll take more than a crucified Dodo to scare me off. I'm not going to fall to the 'rhythm of savagery'. I'm a reasonable person and will remain so. Violence will only be exercised where absolutely necessary. Whitebeard thought back. He had to remain firm, calm.
"I'm only here to provide a mild service. There's some information I feel is pivotal to the current location of your internal organs." Cheshire said.
Cheshire was watching him intently, his eyes boring into Whitebeard's. That's cute. Now get off your high horse and be ready to tear some poor son of a bitch apart. You won't last long here if you can't become part of us. We destroy what's foreign or confusing. You're one of us now. You need to be, if you want to survive. Violence? Madness? I only see a game. The grin widened. A race. And who's going to win? Well that all depends on whether you do end up beating someone to death with a stick or whether you're the one getting beaten. Cheshire's grin went chilling. I don't need to tell you which side of the stick I prefer being on.
The pause was deadly silent. Marco wanted to speak, wanted to ask, but there was no way to phrase what he wanted as an indirect question. Finally Cheshire continued without prompting. "You can't stay in these woods long. Carpenter's here, and he's not in the most genial of moods right now."
You're mad. Whitebeard thought back. He'd seen how Serpent and Ace, how Ace and the Caterpillar had communicated and didn't doubt Cheshire was working the same trick.
"Carpenter? But we've done nothing to him, he has no grudge against us." Marco said.
We're all mad here. As an honored guest you think you're excluded? You better be ready to do some beating with that stick. Only the insane equate pain with success and when you're being spattered with the blood of one of us, one of these animals, only then will you see our true worth. Cheshire replied easily.
Only the savage regard the endurance of pain as the measure of worth. Whitebeard thought, staring at Cheshire darkly. Cheshire began disappearing, his skin burning away like paper. Marco called for him to wait, but he continued fading nonetheless. Cheshire's eyes seemed to burn into Whitebeard's challengingly, violence and the promise of action behind his frozen glare, his grin looking monstrous as he replied.
Then call me positively savage.
The dead silence of the forest had been a little unsettling. The stillness of the air, the hush of the trees, and the hollowness of color had set deep tension in all three of the Whitebeard pirates. Walking through that stillness felt like walking into a trap, like at any moment something was going to jump out and attack. Nothing did, and that only made it worse. The tension, the suspense of waiting was to the point that each of their footfalls sounded like a thunderclap, each breath too loud in the shroud of stillness.
When Marco saw the change he actually stopped to stare. "What the hell…?" He mumbled, voice lowered in the chilling silence.
About five paces in front of them the colors came back.
It was as if someone had drawn a line. On one side all was black and white and drained. On the other, everything seemed oversaturated, vibrantly, blindingly, unrealistically so. Flowers bloomed. The leaves and grass shone greener than emeralds, the wood colored deep, rich mahogany, the white picket fence surrounding the color so pure in hue it was practically reflective.
The gate was open, and after a moment's deliberation the trio stepped through.
Inside, much was as it had been without. The haunting silence remained, the terrified stillness. But the tension was gone.
The tension was gone because this was the trap, and they'd sprung it.
At least…that was Marco's initial reaction when he felt the anxiety leave the air. But when nothing happened, he began to wonder. He looked around, trying to find something, anything, that made this place special, the reason it, among the gloom of the rest of the forest, was bright as a neon sign.
"C-Come to hear a story…?" The voice was breathy, barely audible. Marco looked around, trying to find its source. "…C-Come to hear a story…?" A tiny squeaking, like unoiled wheels, began creaking towards them. The bushes before them rustled as something moved in them and Marco tensed, preparing for whatever was coming.
An old, weathered tricycle rolled out from the bush.
It had no rider, yet the pedals squeaked and turned, propelling the little bike closer to the pirates. It had been purple once. The paint was chipped and faded and dull grey metal was visible underneath. It seemed drained of color much as the forest outside this oversaturated clearing had been, the purple faded to nearly grey. It had a basket attached to the handlebars, dilapidated and worn but still functional. The wicker was stained from exposure to the elements, but still looked strong enough to support some load. The wheels were rusty and squeaked as they turned, visible rust corroding the spokes and axels of the wheels.
"Alice got a happy ending. How is that fair?" A voice, the same as the first but somehow different, echoed from the bush. It was quickly hushed by another.
"…C-Come to hear a story…?" The voice sounded almost childish. The stutter in the beginning sounded almost like a choke, as if the words themselves stuck in the throat of the speaker. The voice was coming from in front of them, and Marco stepped forward hesitantly.
The little tricycle had rolled to a stop in front of them, and as he passed it he gave it a fairly wide berth. It neither moved nor made any sound as he passed it, and only had that air of abandonment common with old things. As he walked by he paused to look in the basket.
A doll's head stared up from the bottom of it, sightless glass eyes set on the sky. Tear tracks ran down its face from crystalline blue eyes and the mouth and eyes were set in a position of despair. When removed from the doll, it had been popped off, not broken or cut.
Marco pulled his eyes away and continued forward, into the slight clearing he could see through the trees. With the tricycle's stop the silence had returned. It hung in the air like a stench, omnipresent and suffocating. It seemed to thicken as he moved, tightening around him, pulling him back, whispering 'no, stay, don't, it's bad, you don't want to see, you don't want to know, you don't want to find out what we are, you don't want to see what your friend really is, no, stay, don't, it's bad…' over and over again. The last trees passed him by and he was in the clearing.
A figure. Small, no taller than a six year old.
His back was to Marco and the others and he stood perfectly, impossibly still. His arms hung loosely at his sides, and dirty hair hung about his head in mussed curls. He didn't even seem to breathe, neither his shoulders of sides stirring with breath. Marco remained a fair distance away, preferring to err on the side of caution. The little figure seemed to hear or sense Marco, for he lifted his head a little before cocking it to the side.
"…C-Come to hear a story?" The stutter was still there, still sounding as if the little figure were choking. Story… Marco took a breath.
"…Tweedle Dum?" He guessed. The little figure shook his head. "Tweedle Dee, then." A nod, then a pause. "…Where's your twin?" Tweedle Dee raised his hand slowly, from the shoulder, his elbow remaining strangely inanimate, pointed up so his arm hung flat. His wrist, too, remained oddly relaxed, his hand hanging at a slight angle from his arm. His hand was loose, only the pointer finger raised, and his whole arm pointed off into the woods in front of him and to his left.
Still hanging in his loose grip was another hand, seemingly torn off just above the wrist. Blood still trickled from it lifelessly.
"…C-Carpenter didn't like the story…" He stuttered. "B-Been spending too much time with Mr. Savage. He used to l-love the stories…B-But Mr. Savage got to him. "Why do you let them give you an unha-happy ending?" He s-said. "All they do is laugh at y-you. Don't y-you hate it?" A-And Carpenter listened. S-So now there's no more stories…" He trailed off and for the first time Marco recognized he was shaking slightly, trembling. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I d-don't like b-being alone…" A shudder passed down his spine and his breath seemed to catch in his throat. "Why did my t-twin leave? Where did he g-go? D-Do you know? Where did C-Carpenter put him? I-…I-…" He trailed off. He's traumatized. Probably in shock. Marco glanced at the severed hand still dangling from Tweedle Dee's grip. Can't say I really blame him… A thought occurred to Marco. Maybe Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum represent Ace and his relationship with Sabo…? Ace was pretty damn torn up after Sabo died, if this is part of his psyche having the same reaction over again we need to be as comforting as we can be. Marco took a careful step forward, making his voice as gentle as possible.
"Listen, we don't know where your twin is, but maybe if we work together we can find him." Marco said, trying to keep his voice soft. Thatch looked at him like he was crazy, but Marco motioned for him to remain silent. "Carpenter can't have taken him far." He continued moving slowly towards the little boy, stepping softly. "Me and my friends…well, we're looking for someone too. If we help you find your twin, do you think you can help us-"
"Stop." Tweedle Dee's voice was sharp and commanding. For the first time there was no stutter, no hint of the frailty that had laced his voice before. Marco froze instantly where he was, still maybe four feet behind Tweedle Dee. "Don't come any closer!" Marco remained perfectly still, eyes fixated on Tweedle Dee, searching for any hint of movement, any sign of an incoming attack. He was on thin ice and he knew it. "You…Y-You can't come any cl-closer…" The frailty was back, the command replaced with something akin to fear. His shaking was growing worse, clearly visible. "Y-You're not going to g-get any closer! I wo-won't let you k-kill me!" He laughed, breathy and terrified. "Yo-you're trying to t-turn me a-against th-them aren't you? I-I ca-can't let th-that happen, o-okay? Th-the-there's too much to l-lose…Tweedle Dum is g-gone and if I-I can't h-hold on then we-we're both dea-dead." Marco tried to take a quiet step back, attempting to distance himself from what looked more and more like a threat. "DON'T MOVE." He roared. For a moment his fame seemed to blur into something grotesque, twisted and awful, but in another blink it was gone. Tweedle Dee had a hand raised to his face, and his shaking was worse than ever. "Oh-oh God…N-No…I…I do-don't want t-to di-die…" Tweedle Dum's hand slipped from his grasp as he raised his other hand, covering his face and shaking his head. "N-No…I-I can't…the-the young ma-master needs me…I c-can't die…"
"Listen," Marco kept his voice low and even, non-provocative, "there's no threat here. You're alright. Nobody's going to hurt you, you aren't going to die. It's okay." Tweedle Dee was shaking his head.
"N-No. It's n-not. You do-don't underst-stand yet, you c-can't help m-me. D-Dying is j-just dying, except when it's n-not." Tweedle Dee said. The shaking was getting worse, his arms nearly spasming.
"What do you mean?" Marco asked, maintaining his steady voice.
"W-We don't di-die like you h-here…O-Our vers-version is wo-worse. Wh-when you d-die you just f-fall over and r-rot, but we-we've been r-rotting since the be-beginning. O-Our de-death is wh-when we enti-entirely fail o-our purpose. W-We were a-all made as someth-thing. M-M-Mr. Savage," the name seemed to instill such fear in him he could barely pronounce the name. "k-kills us by f-finding out e-exactly wh-what we are, what w-we were m-made for and th-then h-he…" A violent shudder passed down the length of his spine and he wrapped his arms around himself, curling inward, nearly doubling over in sheer terror. "…h-he makes us…n-not. W-We become e-everyth-thing we we-were ne-never meant to b-be, th-the complete an-antithesis o-of what we or-originally we-were." A slight pause. "D-Do you re-remember the B-Black Widow?" A slight pause, but he continued without waiting for an answer. "Sh-She used to b-be th-the part of A-Ace that took such good c-care of Lu-Luffy. Wh-Whenever Luffy h-had a ni-nightmare it w-was that par-part of Ace that s-sat up with hi-him till dawn. Did y-you see what he m-made her into?" His voice dropped to a terrified hiss on the last sentence. Tweedle Dee drew in a shaky breath. "Oh yes, the face of death is terrifying be-because it's your face, only n-not anymore because it's a monster and the monster is you and you can never, never go back…" He seemed to be nearly crying. "…Sh-she was tr-trying to exp-explain it to y-you, I th-think. A-Apologize. E-Even as sh-she watched herself strangle y-you. A-And then you st-stabbed her over and over and o-over again and even though the blade stung like ice sh-she wept in h-happiness bec-because it could finally, finally end…" Tweedle Dee trailed off for a moment.
"…I th-thought maybe Ca-Carpenter could d-do that to u-us before we died, s-save us from the inevitable." His voice dropped to that terrified whisper again. "B-But I can't figure it out. I can't f-figure out how to die like you, like she d-did. D-Do you think you could te-teach me? Please…th-there should be a kn-knife on the g-ground nearby. Wh-Whatever you did to th-the Black Widow, wh-whatever spe-special method you u-used…ple-please, do it to me. I…I want to be unalive like you are when y-you die."
"Stop that. We are not talking about this. We aren't going to just murder you for no reason!" Marco said. "We can still help you, save you. There's absolutely no reason it needs to be this way."
"Yes there is." Tweedle Dee replied brokenly. "I-It wouldn't even be m-murder. Y-You ca-can't m-m-murder what's alre-already half d-dead." He turned to face them for the first time.
Marco felt his hear stop in his chest.
The left half of Tweedle Dee's face was boyish, looking almost like a younger version of Ace, minus the freckles and with larger eyes. His dark hair was stained with dirt and blood, clumping and unwashed. His eyes seemed melancholic, desperate, and scared. Scared of himself.
The right half of his head was just skull.
His right eye stared out of the socket widely, no eyelids covering the white. The skull was polished clean, sun bleached and almost perfectly white. The teeth were straight and even, but instead of stopping where a normal human's would they continued up in a sick perversion of a smile, the teeth stopping just to the right of the eye socket.
Tweedle Dee wept as the monster grinned out of his face.
His torso was soaked in blood, staining the white shirt he wore and spattering onto his arms and neck. And there was no doubt as to whose blood it was.
A saw protruded from his chest, embedded smack through the center of his torso, right through his heart.
"I-I already tr-tried to do it m-myself." As he spoke, choking as ever, blood dribbled down his chin and now Marco knew the reason for the stutter. It's pretty hard to talk when there's a saw through one of your lungs and you're trying to speak through your own blood. "B-But it didn't w-work…" As he spoke, he reached down and seized the handle of the saw. Marco moved to stop him, but-
Squelsh.
The saw was out of his chest and in his hand in one smooth movement. Blood pumped with renewed vigor from his chest, but he seemed to barely notice. Without even flinching he raised it again and, with more force than Marco knew he was capable of, drove it through his skull, right between his eyes. "S-See? It doesn't wo-work. Th-That's why I need your help." He looked between the three of them, eyes pleading. "Save me. P-Please. This is the o-only way to help m-me. I c-can't hold o-on for much l-longer," Tears of fear seemed to rise again in his eyes, "and I don't want to become a monster. P-Please. Help me." Marco felt helplessly, inexorably torn.
"You can't do it, you know." Marco looked to his right.
Cheshire.
"You won't be capable of killing him. There's no known method of killing a being of Wonderland in Wonderland itself." Cheshire's voice was as nonchalant as if he were discussing the weather. Marco looked to Tweedle Dee only to see he wasn't moving. At all. What? Marco glanced behind him at Thatch and Whitebeard, but they too were oddly still. "Time here is so easy to twaddle with. Don't worry, I'll restart it again once we finish our little chat."
"No known method. But that doesn't mean there isn't a method out there." Marco replied. Cheshire shrugged.
"Maybe. Maybe not. But you don't have time to try everything to find a way." Cheshire said.
"Don't have time? I thought we were here to save Ace. All of Ace. That includes Tweedle Dee, and if he truly, truly believes that this is the best way to save him…Ace is mature enough to make that kind of decision." Marco said.
"'Mature enough'? You're talking about a ten-year-old. But that's beside the point. You don't have time because Tweedle Dee is going to die no matter what you do. It's too late for him. Any minute now he's going to break and when he does you don't stand a chance in hell." Cheshire said.
"I resent that."
"You say that like it matters. It doesn't change the fact that he's going to tear you limb from limb in a matter of minutes. There's nothing you can do. And if you stick around he's going to tear you apart." Cheshire began disappearing again. His cold blue glare burned into Marco. "Confidence and rashness are sides of the same coin. Please remember you're only the size of a cockroach." He was gone.
Marco looked back to Tweedle Dee, who was still staring at him pleadingly. The shaking was back in his limbs, so Marco could tell Cheshire had stopped doing…whatever he'd been doing. He considered his options. How could he be sure that Tweedle Dee was really going to snap as soon as Cheshire had said? And there was still the whole moral dilemma of whether they should kill him or not. Not to mention how in hell they'd actually go about it. Marco took a deep breath.
"We should-" Marco began, only to be cut off.
Screeching. Screeching unlike anything even hell could conjure.
Tweedle Dee turned terrified eyes towards the sky. "Jabberwocky!" He shouted.
Marco turned to look at the sky as a massive shadow fell over the clearing. The twisted, horrendous form of the Jabberwocky was blotting out the sun, its wings twisting and dancing to keep it airborne.
It was headed right towards them.
It was diving at a powerful angle, gaining speed quickly, barely seeming to heed the fast approaching ground. If it continued as it was, when it smacked down there'd be a veritable crater. Fuck we can't fight that. Marco thought, recalling what they'd seen and what Serpent had told them of the Jabberwocky. Without a moment's hesitation he grabbed Tweedle Dee, hoisting him over his shoulder then spinning, dashing towards Thatch and Whitebeard. They seemed to have the same idea and as soon as Marco drew even with them the three darted into the trees.
They didn't have time to get very far, but after pelting through the trees a ways they stopped at a narrow shelf, jumping over and behind it, screened by the underbrush. They were still within eyesight of the clearing, not having the time to get further.
The Jabberwocky, against Marco's initial guess, didn't come careening into the ground. It managed to pull itself to a stop, hovering momentarily over the ground of the clearing before landing with a dull, earthshaking boom.
Its great, dog-like head swung about on its long neck, gaping, drooling jaws held loosely open in a partial snarl. It remained largely the same as it had been when Ace first made it except for one factor. One very important, very frightening factor.
It was probably three times the size it had been before.
The top of its head as it stood in its hunched, curled position, was probably 70 feet off the ground, and if it straightened its back it'd probably be a good five to ten feet taller. It snuffled about on the ground, sniffing at Tweedle Dee and Dum's blood, which had saturated the dirt in the clearing. After a moment it raised its eyeless head, swinging it about as though searching for them. It won't find us here. As long as we don't move, don't make any sound, and don't reveal our location it'll leave after a while. The smell of blood is too strong for it to pick up on our scents.
Marco looked to his companions, checking to make sure they were well out of the line of perception. Thatch and Whitebeard nodded to him in turn, and he turned to look at Tweedle Dee.
But he was gone.
Marco stared at the empty place he should have been for a moment longer before looking about desperately, hesitant to call out. Where the hell did he go? Marco felt dawning understanding and turned to look at the Jabberwocky.
Tweedle Dee was walking right towards it.
Marco felt frozen in place and could only watch as he stepped into the clearing. The moment fell into perfect stillness for Marco, the Jabberwocky's roar as it found Tweedle Dee distant and barely audible. Tweedle Dee, knowing he'd been spotted, turned his head to look back at Marco. He was smiling slightly, sadly.
It'll do what you wouldn't.
Crunchtearsquelch.
One blow was all it took, one of the Jabberwocky's lizard-like hands tearing into and through Tweedle Dee. He was sent flying by the blow, and in an instant he was out of their field of view, hidden by the branches of the trees. The Jabberwocky shrieked again and lifted off, probably to pursue its fresh-killed prize. Marco was left staring dumbly at where Tweedle Dee had stood only a moment before.
The only evidence he'd ever been there was one of his shoes, knocked clean off by the force of the blow.
He dimly felt Thatch or Whitebeard pulling at him, saying they needed to move before the Jabberwocky came back. He followed along mutely, still frozen in that instant, that smile Tweedle Dee had cast him before he'd gone.
His face had been whole. No horrific skull visible. He'd rid himself of the monster. And if he wasn't breaking there was no reason he should die.
But he'd gone and done it anyway. Had done it smiling.
Marco couldn't help the solitary tear that slid from his eye.
Tweedle Dee lay tangled up in the branches of a tree. How does one get tangled in a tree? Well, it helps when one's entrails are twisted around all the surrounding branches.
He was on his back, looking towards the sky. Tears fell freely from his eyes as he stared at that blue, at those clouds, which looked back at him, mocking. He'd failed. Even after all that he'd failed.
Why couldn't he just unlive?
It was too late now. He was going to snap any minute. He could feel his face burning away, being replaced by white bone. He was scared. Scared of this death. The tears kept coming. He drew in a shaky breath.
"Ring around the rosie
Pocket full of posy
Ashes, ashes
We all fall down." He was getting the tune wrong and it sounded horrifying, but he couldn't fix it, he was already too far gone.
"Ring around the rosie
What do you suppose we
Can do to fight the darkness
In which we drown?"
"I knew you wouldn't last much longer." The voice sent a chill shooting down his spine, but it faded away quickly. He was no longer an enemy. "Why don't you just let go already and give up?" The voice was mocking, biting. "You failed to escape. And now you'll never get away. Ever. Get used to avoiding mirrors, I promise you won't like what you see there anymore." He laughed and Tweedle Dee felt fresh tears on his face as he stared at the sky. He tried to push that laughing away and live his last few moments in peace. But despair poisoned the air in his lungs and as he stared at the sky his whole world was filled with it.
"Ring around the rosie
This evil thing it knows me
The lost ones surround me" The last of his face was burning away. A sob choked up his throat.
"I can't fall down."
(A/N: Well…yeah. I…don't really know what to say. Hope you enjoyed…?
Oh, credit for the creepy version of ring around the rosie goes to Dead Space 2. Want to hear the song? Here's a link: www .youtube watch?v=16MdwEb_EGs (just take out the spaces.)
Soooo…yeah. Did you guys like the chapter? I hope so…I ended up rewriting the whole sequence with Tweedle Dee three times. That's about thirty-five hundred words that I rewrote three times. So that's why this chapter took so long to update. That and school ate me. But here's the chapter, so I really hope you liked it.
It's currently 2:50 AM, so I'm going to bed now. It would really mean the WORLD to me if you would drop a review. As I said in the author's notes at the top and will say again, I'm new to writing horror. Something in this chapter especially creep you out? Let me know. Something you think I should improve on? Let me know. Something I suck at or just doesn't work and I should avoid in the future? Let me know. I can't improve if I don't know what I'm doing wrong, so please leave me any feedback you can think of. Thanks a bunch, guys! ~Mountain97)