A Poisoned Soul. A voice from the outside?


The echoing footsteps within the confines of Evie's soul grew louder. She turned, confused and afraid from the infinite darkness surrounding her. The strings gone, the pain vanished, what was left?

A boy her age, dressed in antiquated clothing, stood before her with his hands in his pockets. His chest was soaked with blood.

"You're in bad shape, you know that?" He asked, looking into her eyes. His pale eyes felt cold and empty, less comforting than offputting.

"Who... are you?" Evie managed to ask, stunned. This walking corpse had appeared in her soul, was it the poison?

"I'm being a barrier, to an extent. You've been inflicted with a nasty kind of poison, the kind you don't walk away from." The boy said, ignoring her question but only giving her more. "Even now it's wrestling control away from you."

A figure appeared behind him. A sack doll pierced by sewing needles. It gently beckoned Evie forward.

"You can follow him if you want." The boy said, not having to look to know it was there.

"What happens if I do?" Evie asked cautiously.

"If I wasn't here, you wouldn't have had a choice. It would've taken you with it. Choosing to follow it now, you'll regain consciousness but you won't control yourself."

"...w-why...?" Evie asked, horrified by the prospect.

"I'm gonna level with you." He squatted down to be closer, blood dripping from his wound. "You're about to die. This thing will keep you alive, and it'll use you like a puppet. Your choice."

"A choice between dying and being used like a puppet?! How do I choose that?!" Evie cried, looking over at the doll as its mouth stretched open, a disconcerting empty maw strung loosely together.

"Thing is, I'm here." The boy grabbed her chin and turned it back towards him. "Puppet, Death, or me."

"I don't even know who you are." Evie glared.

"You want to get back at those guys who hurt you, right? You want to live." The boy stared down at her with the intensity of the grinning moon. "So tell me, what's the closest to that?"

"Will you help me?" She asked after a brief moment of consideration. It wasn't clear if she was accepting the help of an angel, making a deal with the devil, or something else.

"Depends. Are you going to get up?"


Evie's eyes shot open and she lurched, hacking and coughing. A slurry of stringy black fluid left her lungs, and she struggled to hold her balance even on her hands and knees.

She forced herself up, holding her chest tightly and reaching back with her right arm to feel the wound by her spine. Deep, but nothing vital.

Her left hand drew away from her chest, clutching a large kitchen knife that she hadn't noticed. The blade was clean and sharp, but she could feel all the blood it had drawn. She hastily dropped it, watching it clatter against the ground, before running away.


Evie found herself back at home, wrapping gauze and medical tape over her wound. It wasn't bleeding, so protecting it was her best bet until she could get help from the school nurse.

The hospital would be able to close it, sure, but closing it wouldn't allow the real experts of the DWMA to discover what the poison was, who attacked her. She was tough, she'd need to use that to bear with it for tonight.

After tightly securing the bandages, she walked back through the hall. Empty and forgotten, her parents long gone. Father never found, her mother dead to a witch, Evie had the place to herself.

Her mind raced even now. What would happen, what would be done? Would the poison make her into a test subject? Would the doctors be able to save her? It wasn't clear if she was even alive, or if she'd been trapped in a personal hell of her own unwilling creation.

She laid down in bed with a sharp inhale, the wound relaxing as it began to rest. Heavy and tired, her eyes slowly looked around the room, across her stuffed animals and textbooks, her desk, and finally the doll in the doorway, before falling upon the picture of...

She bolted back awake, looking at the closet door. The doll, filled with sewing needles, was taller than she was, standing in the closet doorway. It idly beckoned her closer.

Evie flew out of bed, scrambling for the door and leaving her home. It was back, there was no time.

Only one thing had protected her from it, and as she exited the house, she began to sprint back to where she'd been attacked, hoping to find the knife. As she ran, she felt the stringy fluid within her veins begin to solidify, as if her blood was being replaced by twine. Every muscle in her body was aching and her head was pounding.

She saw the alleyway ahead, and collapsed in pain as her legs began to give, losing oxygen. She looked back over her shoulder at the Doll, walking slowly towards her without any urgency. She struggled, pulling herself towards the knife as her body lost control piece by piece.

Finally, her hand reached the handle of the kitchen knife, and it felt as though the twine was cut. The strings in her blood faded away, and she regained control. The doll came to a stop, before slowly turning away and walking off into the darkness.

Evie's tired eyes gave way to tears, and she sobbed quietly on the cold asphalt. A night of terror and fear all bubbling out at once, she couldn't hold it anymore.

She clutched the steel knife close, sobbing until her tears ran out, her shaking stopped, and her mind exhausted itself to sleep on the pavement.


"Hmm. Interesting, interesting." A man said, holding her eyes open and shining a flashlight into them.

Evie struggled to come back to reality, being handled like a cadaver. She let out a quiet grunt, willing sleep out of her mind, and staring up at the man above her.

The man's stiched face and shining round glasses were strange enough, but when he began rotating a huge screw sticking through his head, she let out a yelp.

"Ah, you're awake." He said, a lit cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

"Where am I?!" Evie looked around quickly, seeing the telltale equipment of a medical doctor.

"You were brought to my office in need of special care. Evie Cornwell, first year Demon Weapon of the DWMA, you're quite the prolific student." He said, twisting the screw in his head until it hit a loud click.

"A-Are you school staff? Why are you smoking in a doctor's office?" Evie asked, orienting herself.

"Oh, it doesn't matter if I smoke. You're already dead." He looked her in the eyes with a grin.

Evie felt her stomach sink.

"Juuust kidding." The man spun in his rolling chair. Evie had a heart attack.

"You little...!" Evie swiped at him and he deftly dodged by kicking at the floor and rolling a safe distance away.

She watched him hit a small snag on the floor and slam downwards, the whole chair sent off balance.

"Would you keep it down? Wasn't he saving you?" The boy from before yawned, laying on his back in the nearby bed, his head hanging off the edge.

"You too?! The boy from before?!" She yelped. She wasn't even sure if he was real, given she'd only seen him within her soul.

"It's Jacob. Don't call me boy, it sounds weird." He grumbled.

"Well, you didn't tell me who you were back then. Where am I?" Evie looked around.

"Oh, you're at my lab. I'm Dr. Franken Stein, pleasure to meet you." Stein rolled back over, shaking her hand and rolling back towards his computer. "I've just finished installing your central processor, you'll be better in no time. Just have to twist it."

"My... My...?" Evie stared, her right hand reaching up and feeling the massive screw next to her head. "W-W-...?!"

"Pranked ya." Stein said, pulling the novelty screw off of her head.

"Oh you little...!" Evie went for the throat, Stein's hand effortlessly keeping her back by holding her face at arms length.

"Don't you talk things through, or do you just fight everything?" Jacob stared with a deadpan expression.


It's speculated that Atsushi Okubo named Maka Albarn after Damon Albarn, co-founder of the band Gorillaz. I decided to name Evie Cornwell after Phil Cornwell, the voice of Gorillaz's Bassist Murdoc Faust Niccals. I figured it would fit the theme, keep the tradition going.

Or I'm wrong and look like a Big Dumb Guy, patent pending.

The Bloody Ghost. Destinies intertwined?