#mono trying so hard to do the speek

[grim-faux]

3 _ 45 _ The Trick and the Tricked

First – An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

Trigger Warning for disturbing themes and images and some graphic descriptions. I know this is Little Nightmares, but sometimes these chapters get too wholesome I don't want people forgetting what series this is.

On the frumpy couch draped a long limbed and long bodied shape, the head tilted far back with the hat askew and low over the brow. Throughout the small living space extending from the inert shape, the air buzzed gently, a lone standing lamp in one corner – partially bent in the center – flashed periodically. Boxes and other castoffs such as clothing and collapsed erosion from the ceiling, coated the floor in a fine archeological curiosity of a past history. The archway of the distant hall awaited silent and dim, while a mischievous breeze skittered through a distant room somewhere. If not for the lanky figure sprawled on the couch this abode would be no different from the winding roads and prolific buildings brimming throughout the Pale City; deserted and forgotten.

However, abandoned on the floor huddled one lone cushion. The grungy cushion separated from its home beside the couch's base and waddled across the floor. That is, until it flopped forward, and the child tumbled over it.

It was great joy for Mono to climb onto the back of the cushion, snare it by a corner (or two) and try to pull the cushion up and over, all while he stood on it. Coupled with the weird distortions the Thin Man caused with his twitching, it was almost as if the cushion had a will of its own. Though it didn’t. Where or which way the cushion would flip was always a surprise, each time he tried to anticipate when he’d lose his balance and try catching himself before plopping onto his backside. Thus far, he was having a difficult time with that objective. This was all a lot of coordination and balance, a game he couldn't afford to avoid.

For Mono under his latest hat, the room is very dark, it was dark even when he managed to find his way back to the isolated dwelling a while ago. Some of the windows from other residents revealed the dark was ever present, thus quiet and dark time when the lampposts blazed brightest in the murk. This didn’t mean Mono could curl up in his room, since the tall thin man was already doing the rest. That was annoying and alarming to come back to, but nothing stopped the Thin Man from doing whatever he wanted to do. But the Thin Man did look so out of it when Mono caught him - the tall man should know better than run away from Mono when keep each other was the best. Then again, he didn't keep the bird.

She always liked when he caught something. This Mono knew, because they always had fights. When the Thin Man knew everything, then stuff like birds made him remember the girl. He knew Mono had Her and She was for a while his, and that upset the man and his hat. Even if he never did speek about Her to Mono, that didn't mean the Thin Man wasn't think about it. Mono tried not to think about any of that while he had his Thin Man.

Instead, he focused on other activities. Such as fighting the couch pillow. It wasn’t as great as the cushy pillows from the stores, but it flopped around and he could haul it through to the other rooms and across the small living space. He liked pretending the Thin Man was watching and impressed with Mono's power and skill. He always wanted Mono to do more. So, with mighty Mono strength he would lift the stiff cushion and hurl it a foot or something, and lunge at the stiff fiber to bite and kick. And headbutted it. Hard.

When he tumbled a little closer to the Thin Man’s place, Mono uncoiled himself and shuffled over to the statue figure. With a flash of his hand, he swung out an arm and smacked one long leg. And much faster, he turned coattail and zipped toward the corridor and hid beside the crooked edge.

Concealed by the corner of the wall, he fixed his hat and peeked out, checking for flicker of the light or a bristle in the static tinge soaked into the room. Nothing.

Zilch response.

That made Mono feel somewhat better, for some reason. The man in the hat was quiet. Mono made certain the rooms remained empty and untouched. Dangers were ever lurking, but Mono was amazing. He never let his guard down. When the Thin Man did rest, the Mono was watch. And he was best at it.

During the quiet spans between scouting, he partook in another activity that was becoming a steady recurrence. Mono would stick to one room and copy mark symbols from a book, onto one of the walls or floor. He only did a few symbols that didn’t need much turns or curves, and like the Thin Man, he liked to add some pictures. To tell his own sort of story. It was all mostly of scenery he recognized – trees and a field of grass, or the big water. And a door. Sometimes he carved out the places he liked to hide, like a broken desk or a little hole in the wall, and added the symbols to make work where this was. Birds would go into the symbol marks too, or what he decided would be bird marks. And a box. And the hallway, with the chair patiently waiting at the very end.

It would be nice if he could draw an opening in the wall and climb into that, whenever he needed one. No televisions or turning, or charred glass bursting at his back. The only time holes could be made in walls was when the boards could be snapped off, or some Viewer or another monster (with a thunder stick) put the hole there. It was better if kids made their own holes, but kids couldn’t do a lot of things that the monsters could.

Like shriek for no reason.

Speek of monsters and hiding, somewhere in his musing, Mono wandered from his speek marking and got into a stealth game! He hid behind corners, or under the dark spaces of furniture. When he abandoned the stuffy shadows completely, it was to emerge into the musty room on delicate feet. He padded among the sturdiest patches of the ruined floor, evading splintered wood or brittle scraps of papers. There was a special skill of skipping carefully and not shredding the feet pads on splinters or whatever else was ground into the timber. He practiced dashing between draperies of murk along the walls and skidded into the inky recesses beneath furniture, practicing holding his breath and not letting his nose tingle with the dust kicked up. It was a habit to retreat backwards on his hands and feet, then stare out into the room for any trace of threat. Listen for any hushed snuffling. Feel the air around his ears as a large shape hurtled with violent intent, seeking the children that sought to stay undetected despite their best efforts.

Sometimes monsters knew for no good reason. It wasn't fair.

Though he was not hiding from anything really, it was good to always know what he could manage while rooms brewed with passive and empty. Disjointed horrors came rooting around during the worst of times, and practiced kept kids from making the dumbest mistakes. Some kids got too scared to run, or couldn’t leap from windows to grab something. He’d seen a lot of kids twisted into bloody ravels.

He made a race from one room into the next, then squeezed up beneath a chair. The dwelling remained void of sounds, aside from his own heartbeat and muffled breathing beneath the brim of his hat.

Nothing lumbered about or bellowed, no abominable intruder crashed into the room. He sheltered from the air and the ugly blotches twisting across the walls. A smolder of pride burned in his chest, despite how inane the whole play act scenario was. He was so wily with escape and disappear, he could practically make himself vanish form the air itself. That skill kept him away from cages. Everything he did was only for escape, and watch others get caught. 

The fire leapt around them. One-by-one, each kid got snared up. He didn't look back.

He scooted from beneath the chair, staying low and creeping on airy steps. With extreme care, he tested his weight on each floorboard. He wanted to make it to the doorway without a creak, but the warped boards made that feat a near impossibility. He inched to the hallway, first perching by the doorframe and checking for movement through the familiar fringes. The cap slipped some over his brow but didn’t bother his vision too much. Crouched low, he prowled into the corridor and slipped along the wall, then upon reaching the next open doorway he coiled down and listened for out of place noises.

Sometimes he thought about the other children. The one’s that chased. Being extra cautious was a new priority on his errand list. So many questions, no answers. Just angry faces and chase.

With a shiver, Mono shook his head. He stood up in the bathroom and abandoned the area, rushing through the corridor and back to the big room. The cushion waiting there received a full tackle, and Mono learned he could hold the lumpy sides and do a barrel roll across the dingy piece of carpet. For a while he fought the cushion, trying to fold it over and sit on it.

One of the plush toys lay on the other side of the room, dumped behind a crate. He abandoned the cushion to dash over and grab the thing. He pulled the floppy animal out and sat with it, giving it a strict scrutiny – arms, head, chest, legs – he examined ever loose thread, and its frayed seams.

“Hurt?” he posed, to the mute, inanimate, and very unalive creature. “Wh’rr hurt?” The stuffed toy didn’t complain when he checked its muzzle. He could pull it apart, that wouldn’t matter to it one bit. On the other hand, Mono would not like being pulled apart. He was still trying to work out how to explain soft to the Thin Man. That was important. The man and his hat didn't understand how soft Mono was, and how it upset him the way the Thin Man pried at his arms and squished his chest. Mono was careful while examining the animal plush. Except when he coiled his arms around it and squeezed. "Shh... shh. Non'that. Ya'ok."

The tall thin man had two modes. Annoyed and grumpy. Mono hoped something would eventually cheer up the man in the hat, but waiting for something never accomplished much. Now, Mono wasn’t sure if it would be okay to stop for rest, because the Thin Man went nutty when he did something different. It was hard to figure what the Thin Man wanted. He wanted Mono to do powers, or make speek, and sometimes looked at Mono so closely it made his bones tingle. And despite always grabbing and looking at Mono, he always looked grumpy about something. This had something to do with the other kids, Mono was certain. They were not Mono.

Mono left the plush propped by the wall and hidden by the crate. He snuck to the far side of the couch and climbed onto the center cushion, where the Thin Man’s arm sagged. One of the smoke sticks dangled between his fingers, a faint wispy trail wound away from its end. He glared at the innocent vapor through the gloom, shoulders cinched beneath the hat and his fists in a knot on the gritty fiber of the couch.

Creeping a little closer to the Thin Man’s wrist, Mono griped at the dingy fabric of the seat cushion with his toes, to keep himself from somersaulting forward. He never got a good look at them while the things were lit, the Thin Man was always busy eating them. The Thin Man did speek that this was not food, but he always gnawed on the burning things. Staring at the smoldering tip, it really didn’t look like food. He was close enough, and with the contrast of the drafty room, he could detect how warm the stick was. Is that what made the Thin Man warm?

Mono stuck his tongue against the end the Thin Man always bit—

The fingers twitched, and Mono recoiled to the base of the couch’s backside. He curled down into the crease, hands latched over his cap and knees barred around his face. For several seconds he hunkered down, waiting for anything, braced for the worst. However, nothing happened.

Uncoiling ever so slowly, he craned his head up and checked for other signs. The Thin Man looked detached and hushed, the sharp angles of his outline vibrating.

“Ar’wake?” Mono whispered. He inched closer to the tall thin man and pushed against his knee. No response. It didn’t look like the Thin Man shut his eyes, but Mono didn’t really think he shut his own eyes when he did half sleep. He couldn’t be sure. The Thin Man was different, anyway.

Despite his uncertainty, Mono shook out of the defensive bubble and stood by the Thin Man’s leg. He planted his hands on the stiff slacks and perched, watching the face intently. The static curled through the room calm, no reaction comes from the Thin Man. Mono tried to decide how long the Thin Man was rest, but the tall thin man was already out when he found him. It wouldn’t matter either, the Thin Man might have dream haunts or just wake when he felt like it.

Satisfied by the lack of any reaction, Mono put his weight on his arms and clambered onto the Thin Man’s lap. He scooted in close to the tol man and tucked his arms against his chest, then could nestle against the Thin Man’s tummy and listen for the static rustling. His hat bent awkwardly against his ear, but he was used to that. Warmth, but no rest. Someone had to be watch. As always, the task was left to Mono. He could be comfortable for a while, and have together; even if it was not real. It wasn’t really fake, either. It was important for Mono.

Skittery and off creaking did draw Mono from his quiet musings and calm. Mostly the walls groaning, a draft slicing through the distant window. He set focus on the main corridor, where something unspeakable would enter with bellowing and flailing arms. Sighing, he pressed his face into the edge of the jacket and kept one eye open, needle point attention directed on all of their surroundings.

She... the Six. The time with her reminded him about stuff that happened before the Thin Man, when he packed with other kids. Real pack. Not what he did with the Thin Man. That was forever ago and somehow felt much further away, even when he found Her again. She tried to throw him away once, but the Thin Man was there… he didn’t remember much before Her, and sort of forgot about her when he had the Thin Man. His head was foggy about everything he did to steal her back – he remembered the Tower, and doors. The light was bright and things floated around, but not Mono. Mono fell.

He tightened up into his coat more, and thought about the bird. Well, not the bird. The Thin Man took him from that place, and put him in another. He gave him a box to rip apart, and it had the food stuff inside. The Thin Man left the way he always did, and Mono had to go look for him again. Some other things happened. Another monster different from the Viewers and wandering through a building. Mono tricked it. He was good at tricks. He was getting better at catching birds. He was not good with keeping friends, though. At least he could be with the Thin Man sometimes. Thanks to Mono, the Thin Man stayed safe. It was a full time busy, but it made important.

Eventual. That was something the Thin Man always made story about. The event'eels. He always talked about the place where Mono would be, and there would be good stuff and friends. Lots of other children.

But he didn’t want other children or good stuff. The best was when he had his Thin Man, and when he was happy to be around Mono. At the same time, the creeping sense tinkled the back of his thoughts, reminding him that this wasn’t forever. Like all the others, the Thin Man had to go away too. Would he go back to the Tower and wait for some other kid to sum’en him? Maybe the Thin Man would just get bored with Mono and go stay with the other children, even if they didn’t like the tall man or his hat. He didn't understand anything about the Thin Man. except the keep children and watch them. That was what all the scrawled pictures of the silhouette and the hat meant, the children saw the Thin Man.

The edge of the city was still out there. It had a beginning, there had to be border somewhere. If it wasn’t a myth. It had been forever since he saw anything other than the tall spire in the distance, observing the ruined world it presided over. Or any other sort of landmark that to suggest a region beyond city roads and crowding skyrises existed. One day – not today but someday – he would try again to hurt the Tower. Then, the city might crumble away like the glitching children he tried to hug. Then, he wasn’t for sure but the idea did creep into him, if the Tower was tricked, it would never know where he would go, where he would be. It would all stop.

Maybe he would escape to the edge of the city and the open forests beyond the towering buildings. Forests and thick trees, like in the books he flipped through. Forests had animals, and biggest scary animals. The Hunters forests was very dangerous, what if all forests had big Hunters with thunder sticks and they fought the largest beasts? He barely got away from one Hunter. If not for….

Mono had strange ideas when it was quiet. His head always like to wander and plan. Someday….

He sniffled and pried himself away from the warmth of the Thin Man’s coat. He scrambled off the couch and dashed to the entrance of the corridor. He huddled by the wall, plucking debris out of his coattail. Not long following the retreat, the static on the air hummed. He plucked his head up and fixed his hat, when the Thin Man began to shift. The bent standing lamp flickered, as the tall thin man gave the room a short examination; he looked at the book left on the cushion beside him, before drawing his hand with the smoke stick wedged there, up to his face. The eyes beneath the hats sheltered rim gleamed as the orange ember blazed. It was always so neat the way the Thin Man did that.

No dream haunts. He would be in a good mood.

Mono left the shelter of the threshold and returned to the Thin Man. He ventured over to the long legs and patted the Thin Man on the shin, then turned and tottered off. Coattail flashing and legs whirling. He did debate taking a rest first, but it was important to do a scout through the lower stories; check for foods, see what the Viewers would be up to. Deal with them, too. A kids work was never done.

It’s the usual sort of hassle to haul something, in this case a large pot from the kitchen, to the entry. Even harder, pulling the door shut from the outside. But he has a solid scheme for getting the door secured and in order, allowing him to start off without alerting anything hazardous lurking around.

The rickety groaned in greeting around him. Some of the doors along the hall hung open, and the wind within windows spat at his passenger. No other sounds breached the symphony of the building, only the ruin of the walls ached by the wind and the rains sending rivers of water cascading down the walls. He reached the corridors turn and crept up to the corner, checking around the edge before moving out fully. On this side the floor was in worse shape, large gaps in the panels showed the rooms beneath.

A lever for an elevator does nothing when he pulled it. It might have something to do with the loose cable dangling inside the shaft. He has no problem grabbing the stiff cable and letting himself down, the dark of the chute surrounding him like an icy blanket. Through the walls trickled the rains seeking paths within the flanking walls, gurgling like the Flesh brewing between the cracks and surging across the floor. It was always there watching him, laughing at his struggles with getting to Her.

The sing box laughed at him too, didn’t it? He hated that so much. It knew he wanted with everything in his power to get her away, and fix everything that was wrong. Fight the Tower… or save his Six. He chose Six.

By the time he reached the only level with the open gate, his eyes burned with dust. He angled himself on the cable and leapt off, his feet made a satisfying Plop when he touched down. The floor creaked some as he renewed his running, choosing a lit corridor to the right rather the dim hall stretching into obscurity ahead.

Something might lurk that way. Cover first, listen, then scout around. He also made an effort to rub the wetness off his face before he got too carried away. He didn’t need to stumble into anything that would be rooting around for the sounds. There was no such thing as being too careful, just kids stole and never seen again.

From his recollection, these levels were very high up and the only way Mono could reach them was by crawling within the walls and sneaking through some vents. If there had been an easier way up, like a stairway or another elevator that worked, he would have used that. He wasn’t really sure if the window he entered from was attached to these floors and rooms he wandered through, sometimes the buildings leaned into each other and the only way to navigate the city was through the internal bridges of the connected corridors. A lot of times he did navigate the lower floors, and would get stranded from the upper stories because of a collapse or some other travel – such as a formally study rope snapping.

Mono was sure this time would be fine. He knew these corridors very well, and there were no Viewers lurking in the rooms he scouted through. No televisions crooning either, though the buzzing boxes no longer held the same draw over the creatures the way it used to.

Out on the streets, he had watched from a high brick wall as a Viewer trudged past a television sitting on a mound of cracked asphalt. Nothing stopped the Viewer from reaching the screen or the soft chatter of the song tunes, but the adult marched on by.

And came right over to where Mono was perched, and gawked up at him.

It was expected, but the whole thing still unsettled Mono. Which was why he had not chosen a side to hop off the wall. The Thin Man warned him the Viewers had been… zesty. Or testy? Something Eee about the televisions and not looking at them.

Thus far, none of the rooms had produced anything that could interest him. He crept along a countertop, working to get the upper cabinets opened with a thin pipe he plucked up. It was too light to be a weapon, and bent easily when the broken cupboards refused to share their secrets. He’d like to take the metal thing to the Thin Man and see what he would do with it, but he couldn’t climb with it and didn’t have a way to hook it onto his coat ring.

He sat beside the cabinet, fiddling with the ring on his coat and trying to bend the pipe, but something in the doorway caught his attention.

It was a flash of something fast, and he twisted around to face the other entry fully. There was another doorway he had been facing, but that led deeper into the home. It would be bad to get trapped in the dwelling, but he wasn’t worried about the thing he saw.

Taking the pipe along, he rushed to the threshold where he saw the movement. When he reached the edge of the doorframe, he crouched low and watched the large room.

As he knew, it was an other child. The Thin Man must have been looking for them. This realization made Mono’s chest tighten. They must be lost. The kid was sneaking further along the wall, across from where he huddled and watched. The kid snuck and glanced around, but didn’t notice Mono yet. When the other kid was near the doorway at the other wall, Mono inched away from his hide spot crept after them.

The other kid navigated through the next room. Their face skimmed over furniture and a collapsing bookshelf, but none of the furniture gave much hide space. The only way out of the room was a vent close to the floor. Mono didn’t wait for them to disappear into the dark passage, and scurried into the room,

“Psst. Hey.” He didn’t stay in the open, and ducked under a nearby table when the other kid looked back. Now that they faced him, he decided they might be a girl, in a very oversized sweater or some other kid of shirt thick with thick fiber. It might’ve been all the kid wore, since it came down all the way to their knees. He couldn’t tell and that wasn’t important.

“Woo,” the kid called back. She(?) turned and went to the opening of the vent, but stalled there to twist around and beckon to him. Then she slipped into the gloomy passage. The thudding noises hummed back into the room, soft and careful the way children stalked through the hollowed passages to avoid alerting creatures.

Without wasting any more time, Mono scampered to the flue and crawled inside. The pipe clonked the walls when he tried to haul it inside, so he ditched it in favor of catching up. It didn’t take him long to reach the other child in the vent, he was good at skipping on his fingers and keeping his strike fluid. He was always good at flee and hide.

“Hey.” In the faint glow from an open vent above, the other kid glanced back at him. Used the familiar speek.

“Ladder?” he murmured. They didn’t respond, but they didn’t hit him or shove at him away. The kid only turned and kept moving through the vent.

“Him? He cooed. “For him?” They weren’t going the right way to find the tall then man, but she might was still searching around the lower floors. Was she protecting the Thin Man? That was his job!

It was some crawling and narrow turns in the vent, somewhere the walls buckled from a collapse. At some point it would cave in entirely, but he didn’t worry about that. Mono scooted out of the opening after the girl, his hand gunked up by something on the floor.

“Hey.” He tugged on the girls sleeve, and she looked over at him. “Mono.” He placed his palms over his chest, and repeated, “Mono.”

The girl tilted her head, her brows knitted in a strange way. She didn’t say anything, she just scuffed her heel on the floor. Her feet were strange, not like his. “Chi’va’yus cajuh yasstumah?”

It was Mono’s turn to tilt his head. “Cah…chus?”

“Tah muveus Polski?” she whispered.

Mono let his gaze drift away from the girl, his focus roaming the room and its furnishings. He wondered if the girl came here and waited for the Thin Man.

“Seer de chuztam.” She reached for his hand, but Mono was quick to snap his arm away and brush past the girl. He wandered over to the doorframe and crouched there, checking up and down the hall to either side. The doors along the corridor hung open, and from the pale glow of bulbs gleamed a sort of sheen on the carpet.

“Psst.” The girl inched out of the threshold, her eyes seeking the gloomy portals punched into the doorways. She kept close to the wall, sifting around the bundles of rubbish bags splinting along the seams.

Mono went the other direction, choosing to poke through the open rooms that looked deserted. One of the doors creaked from the gale blasting through the whole in a wall, where the window probably should have been. He wandered over to the edge where the floor splintered and broke away, his feet slipping somewhat on the wood greased by rains and silt. A gust snatched at his hat, but he was swift to snag it back before the rains swatted at his scalp.

He stood high above the rolling mist, watching the dark threads swirl downward to the obscurity of wherever the city and its buildings, and roads, and all the places existed below. The two worlds of the city, the places in the woven roads cutting through smaller buildings, and then the skyrises that stretched into the clouds – erasing the roads. He never didn’t think much about how he reached the summits of the roofs, or the trial of returning the roads below. The buildings were vertical island, each isolated by a sea of insubstantial storms clawing at the foundation. Why did the buildings exist? Who made them? To worship the Tower?

Mysteries that didn’t concern children. They offered food, they provided shelter from the storms, but once he was high into the structures the world below vanished. Ceased existing.

While exploring through one of the other rooms – not torn open and gaping at the clouds – he discovered a nest of toys and the picture speek on walls. He would have jumped onto the pile of soft plushies, but  something was wrong with them. And it was not the scatter of leather wrapped bones layered among the bulbous arms and glassy eyes.

Before really examining the nest, he searched above. The homes always had weird crust and tattered stuff dangling from the windows, and cloth unraveling across the floor – it always caught his toes if he wasn’t careful. Something about the lacey threads on the walls and glistening in the flicking bulb, made him very uneasy. He supposed it was something he had not seen before, but it often worked that unusual things lingering around was not something to dismiss.

The Morgue Hospital was one place where a kid could never let their guard down.

Rather prod at the nest itself, he plucked up a piece of wood from the floor and dug it into the layering. It was silty and dusty, and sort of crusty too. It also held fast to the board like syrup. He didn’t fool around with it much aside from that, and let the flint of wood to its new home.

The other rooms were in the same condition, but Mono took careful scrutiny of the floors and the spaces beneath the furniture. When he first tried to enter a room, his foot caught on something and he tumble to his knees. A bit noisily.

That prompted him to scurry for the nearest chair, but when he got too near it his eyes caught a shimmer of something that made him full stop. Which caused another stumble, with how his foot was now sticky and caught on the flakes of wallpaper on the floor. He ignored that in favor of turning his head, and adjusting his hat enough to peer under the chairs legs.

More of the lacey stuff that shimmered. It looked more like cloth with how thick it coated the chair, but when light from a nearby lamp hit the strands just right, it made the fiber shimmer like filthy water. It looked colorful, like the light from inside the….

A trill of alarm lit the back of his mind.

Now that he was scanning the room over more carefully, his eyes could fix on the shimmering substance sleeked across the walls. At first, he thought it was just from the rains trickling across the drywall the way it always did. Water found its way into everything, despite how deep he burrowed into the walls. But this shimmering wasn’t really moving, it was glinting with each buzz of the light bulb. And also, the gurgling from water was not here. The room was near silent, except for the distant hum of the storm.

Mono did his best to scrap the gunk off the pad of his foot, then scurried from the room. He searched the high walls now, putting the pieces of an ominous puzzle together.

A lot of the rooms had no food. Viewers meant food. The rooms were vacant. Empty. But not abandoned.

“Hey,” he risked. Calling and hissing as he peeked into the rooms. Something about the shimmering wisps swaying in the drafts made him uneasy. He knew it was bad, he knew there was danger. But he didn’t know what. Only what would happen. “Psst.”

Some sort of Whump! rebounded from a distant doorway. It startled Mono into a crouch, and he hid beside the wall listening and judging from what made that sort of bump. For an extended time he remained huddled, looking like nothing but apart of the heap of garbage he stayed beside. It took had the streak of shiny stuff, but he didn’t get close to it.

No other sound alarmed him. Slowly, he uncoiled himself and padded over to the doorway. It was open a crack, with a blade of light peeking out. He slid into the room, checking the walls for anything that might be using the distant cloak of black to shelter terrible intent. Nothing alarmed his already leery thoughts, which led him to search the next pressing eyecatcher.

The girl was over beside the bottom cabinets, laying on her side. This alarmed Mono, especially when an other kid shuffled in closer to her.

Mono gave a snort as he sprang into the room fully, his arms bent at his sides and shoulders squared up. His most intimidating threat for other kids. He was ready to tackle someone.

The brash launched proved to be premature, since the other girl was slowly pushing herself into sitting upright. The bulb above the oven range flashed, momentarily casting darkness through the room. The new kid swiveled toward Mono’s direction and flapped his arm.

No fight, no anger. That was good. And a kitchen, too. Mono cast his gaze across the cabinets, and took in the mugs and junk he could see over the edge of the countertops. Some of the lower cabinets had been opened, but it didn’t look like the two kids had found anything.

“Hey,” he called, as he moved closer to the packmates. It was familiar, like… Her, and him. Together. The thought made him take a deep breath of the musty air.

The other girl slowly climbed to her feet, slow and awkwardly from the bad fall. She made a strange gesture at Mono, which spurred him to skid on his footpads and draw back a step.

It was the way her arm moved. It was broken, but then… she wouldn’t be moving. Not when there was no danger and no flee. The girl sort of raised her arm like a line was tied to her elbow, with her wrist and then hand trailing in a strange direction. It looked more unsettling than the Patients locked in the Morgue Hospital. Why did her arm move that way?

The girl swung her arm again, and the same uncanniness swarmed his thoughts. She took a step back and as she did so, her head sort of tilted back. Not all the way, but enough to convince Mono to take a step back himself.

“Hmm?” he cooed. He watched the boy, who was now inching towards him. When the light brightened once more, the eerie condition of the new child raised panic in Mono. The kid wasn’t wearing a shirt and the pants plastered to his legs had rotted to threads. He was thin, but the texture of his skin and the way the light glistened over the hollows in his ribs… was wrong. Like his bones snaped apart and were trying to drill out.

With morbid fascination, he watched the other kid as their arm made another flapping motion. The other arm dangled at their side like a hollowed shirt sleeve and thinner than a thread, if not for the fingers dangling from the end of that arm Mono might have missed it.

The girls feet scuffed the floor. But she stopped moving. So did the new boy. They stopped moving, but stood and gave him those eerie arm—

Mono’s hair stood on end, and in a flash he had teleported a good ways to the side, nearly colliding with a cabinet. Not a moment after, something whizzed by his shoulder and bowled into the new kid. Mono steadied himself on the cupboard door and backed away, aware he should flee and never look back.

But that had been fast. And absolutely silent.

The other kids flailing arms knocked the girl down as well. She crashed hard to her backside, skull cracking on a discarded knife. The other kid… sort of fell apart.

He was in pieces of limbs. An arm, a leg, a foot tangled up in the lacey gunk coating the cupboards. His head was still rolling, and just gone by the time the oven light pulsed again.

The parts of the kid that did not scatter unraveled. But Mono did not need to see what emerged to put the final pieces together.

A set of sharp limbs descended over the girls body. The creature did nothing to her, but turned its glittery fangs towards the other thing unfolding from the other kids chest.

Mono tried pushing away from the cabinet, but one hand was caught on the gummy silky that decorated the rooms and the child nest. The substance stuck between his fingers and across his palms like gluey trap (something adults sometimes used), it felt like he’d pop his hand off if he pulled any harder.

A lot of rustling and clacking came from the creatures. The spider things. The one that tried to tackle Mono was getting menaced by the one that tore apart the boys body. As for the girl, she sort of rolled over as she struggled to stand. Beneath mess of stringy hair, a set of sharp legs wound up and tucked back into the base of her skull.

Mono could not tug hard enough. He dug his heels into the floor, aware if he smashed his feet into the cupboard he would be triple stuck. The floor here looked safe, but dusty. He tried scooping up handfuls of silt and throwing them at the goopy threads adhered to his palm, but that didn’t seem to be doing enough. It would have been bad if the door popped open with al his struggling, but the whole thing was attached to the cabinets. And the spiders were done hissing at each other, they turned the glossy black eyes towards him. So many eyes, all directed at him.

He hated being looked at!

As the light flashed again, some beside Mono caught his eye. He swept up the shard of glass and jammed that into the space between his hand and the cabinet. Somehow, it did bite through the matted gunk holding him fast, and also churned at the wood splinter he ground it into. Mono dropped to his rump as he continued jamming the blade into the soft wood, tearing up more threads than wood. He bucked hard, fighting the urge to kick at the door. He was making progress, he was going to get loose.

The spiders things hurtled at him right when he gave a final cleave with the glass piece, and gave his body a hard turn – dragging his arm away from the cupboard, but nearly ripping the socket from its joint. Pain was nothing compared to the ghastly sickles drawing up beneath the bristly legs.

Mono launched aside, catching him on his palms before shooting up into a sprint. One of the spider things produced an audible crash when it hit the door, but the other ground to a halt and began turning on its several sharp limps. As he rushed for the doorway he glance over his shoulder, certifying that neither of the two creatures had renewed the chase. On the other side, the girl was just sitting slouched beside the cupboards and no longer moving. Except for the mound of hair coating the nape of her neck.

All the hall looked the same he thought every stretch of glittery patch had something eerie poking from the pockmarked walls. Mono didn’t stop or take second glances, at his back the prattling feet found their heading. The creature was moving fast.

Some of the debris scattered throughout the hall did slow the creature, though. Mono scrambled over a suitcase or a hunk of chair, whereas the spider thing had to adjust its footing. He only took another glimpse to check its progress, a risky look. The spider and the other one had caught up with it, and to his relief that bickered about where the many legs would go. It was still two spiders and him.

To his dismay he couldn’t find a way out of the dwelling, except for the vent where he and the other kid came in. The spiders would untangle from the next fight and come for him, though he didn’t want to be in the vent confined with those things. The room didn’t have anyplace where he could hide and no other way for flee.

He dove into the vent and thundered across the walls and floor, the sides twisted around him like a certain pathway undulating with flesh. The path beneath his feet was not disintegrating, but the rapping scamper of those ugly legs were gaining on him. A pitiful whimper spilled form Mono as he galloped towards the musty cutout of light growing in the distance. Something scaly and ugly swiped at his ankle, that only told him he was going too slow. Yet he couldn’t fold and kick his legs fast enough in the confined space, and at the last stretch to fresh air he tumbled. His hat went flying. Something caught against his shoulder as he spun over, kicking at the sharp ends flailing at his face. He couldn’t see anything of the creature, except the glitter of its eyes and the dew of juice fluttering on a curved fang.

The thing at Mono’s back pinched his hip. It occurred to him that he dropped something in the flue, and before the thought finished blooming entirely he had the spike bent upward. It still had a kink in the tip, but the spider latched all five arms around Mono’s wonderful coat and dragged him into its embrace. An embrace that was obstructed by the sharp spike.

Mono cringed back into the sharp legs, the entire sprawl of the spiders width twitched, the sickle fangs unfurled further apart than what he thought possible. But it moved no further near him, and the creatures iron hold eased by a fraction. With a final sputter, the legs went rigid and Mono was able to sag backwards beside the pole. He couldn’t release it yet, but he did lock the rear tip into a notch in the vent. This wasn’t the time to pause or catch his breath. Not far within the passage, the clatter of many legs raced after the scene of internal juices oozing down the pipe.

Coiling in own legs up under him, Mono supplied a strong kick to the underside of the first spider. This dislodge the sharp claws from his coat and got him away from the hovering fangs. He twisted and wretched, some of the hooks of the spiders legs tugged threads out of his most amazing coat. But the other spider picked up the pace without issue, its long legs speared through the gaps in the passage left by its slain brethren. The arched prongs narrowly missed Mono when he somersaulted backwards, an act when sent the top of his head smashing against the upper edge of the vents access.

Somewhat dazed but still conscious, Mono flopped from the opening and back into the open air of the room. The relentless spider creature beat at the carcass that obstructed its path, the shred of that moment gave Mono a chance to search the room for the exit; while his senses persisted to tip and twist. He was about to rush for the nearest doorway, on the far side of the room. However, the chittering of the sharp legs on the hard floor reminded him of fake children, jeering at him.

Stealing Her.

To his right loomed a rickety bookcase, most the shelves barely tethered. Too dangerous to climb and no place to go. Not that he needed it to take him anywhere.

Mono pivoted on his toes and launched at the bookcase. The first shelf he caught snapped under his hand, but he was already skipping up to the second on third slate without issue. With each hike and leap, the entire structure quaked against his forceful strides. The fifth shelf snapped under his foot right as the entire frame buckled sideways, the left wall disconnected from the inner slates and swayed while Mono dangled by his fingertips. With the creaking wood, he couldn’t decide where the spider creature had gone too – had it followed, or was it spooked away? A mystery for another time, Mono focused on finding purchased with one of his feet as the walls swayed and began to tilt. All falling forward, with him still locked on.

With a mighty leap, Mono took a blind leap to the side. Just the same way when he knocked down the key. He landed on a patch of matted pages from a garbage bag, but managed to roll aside as the entire bookcase came cascading down. Not far from where Mono touched down, the second spider creature was retreating backwards from the books and other junk flying off the broken slates. The ugly creature didn’t stand a chance, by the time it scooted all the way around to evade the shelves completely, the slates cleaved through its body – this was followed by the whole rocking explosion of the walls and whatever else still loaded the remaining shelves.

Mono staggered back from the silt kicked up, and used an arched arm to bar the wall of dust from burying his senses. This didn’t save from two stifled sneezes, both of which felt explosive in the empty crackle of the cataclysms wake.

No sign of the spider thing survived. It had to be tricked or suffering. He hoped it suffered.

Mono plucked up a bit of wood and chucked it at the bookcase. He snatched up a chunk of drywall, then a hunk of plaster; each item produced a sharp clatter as he propelled them at their target. The spider thing was tricked. Both of them. They wouldn’t be bothering any other kids.

For several minutes, Mono stood glaring at the bookcase, his fists knotted up at his sides. He wanted to drag the spider back out and trick it again – stitch it back together, then pull it apart. Over and over. He wanted to drown it, and bite it, and beat it with a heavy pipe. Hurt it again and again until he didn’t have anymore hurt in himself.

He HATED IT!

Without another thought of the scene, he whipped around and sprint out of the room. He didn’t care he lost another hat, he didn’t care about anything but getting far away from the dust and silence.

By the time he navigated his way out of the dwelling and back into the familiar open corridors, Mono had calmed down. Sort of. He stopped thinking about the crooked legs knitting behind the girls stringy hair, or the boys flesh unraveling from his bones, or the way the skin—

He shook out of the daze, realizing he was gawking at an open window in one of the corridors derelict ends. The wind moaned against the slapping and sodden rags dangling beside the broken glass, the lone remaining plank of wood rattled as the gale tugged at it. Tick-Tick… tick-tick… tick-tock. Tick-tock… tick.

Hovering high in the misty distance was the gleaming eye of the sharp spire, ever watchful of the buildings and citizens of the city. And possible Mono.

‘It calls to me.’

And Six stared at him from the void of the dark hood. The coat made Her important, just like the wonderful coat made him important. They would flee and escape all the terrible things that wanted to make them fail. He wouldn’t let them fail. They would hurt the Tower. He would show Her how. He showed her a lot of things for safe and flee, and how to pack.

Something blasted past the window, cutting out the sheets of rain only briefly. The shape was followed by a crackling wail but in the next moment it was gone, as if that never happened. The Signal Beacon seemed to smolder brighter like the eyes of the Hunter within the stitched sack.

Wandering around with nothing to show for it, Mono meandered his way back to the elevator chute with the stiff cord. It was just as cold and clammy as the time he slipped down, and climbing back up was no more a challenge than trying not to lose his grip. The metal was not as comforting as a sheet or tangled shirt, it wouldn’t give under his vice grip and only seared into his fingers like blades. He had to take a moment after leaping off and back onto solid ground to get his bearings, and rub the fresh tear in his palm. He tried not to remember how he got that. He did flee, that was all that mattered.

He ran away. The fastest got away, the slowest stalled the monsters.

Getting the door of the room shut was much easier when he could shove it from the other side. There wasn’t much reason for making the door shut, it was just a habit. As he suspected, when he went to the big room with the couch the space was empty.

He took a breath, feeling the stale air on his tongue. The door was shut, and after a short scout he would curl up someplace and rest. That jittery sensation hadn’t dissolved from his skin, every scrap of shadow or twitch of the light put a quivering panic into his skin. Static flakes bristled off his coat like a TV was around, but he ignored that in favor of keeping watch of his surroundings.

So lost in thought was he, the steady tick and tapping slipped by his hyper tuned radar. Up until long fingers swept around his body and lifted him high.

Mono snarled and began fighting. All his retaliation went into bites and clawing, but he was no match for the suffocating grip tightening around his chest.

“Child,” crackled the Thin Man. “Where have you been hiding? I could not sense you.”

The abrupt sound did not ease Mono one bit, and he renewed his gnawing on the boney knuckles. Especially when he was adjusted and pressed to the coarse tweed of the Thin Man’s jacket. He bit down so hard his jaw ached, and his sore tooth stabbed into his jaw.

“Shh. None of that.” The Thin Man moved. Or glittered and filled Mono’s head with the pulsing chatter of static; his own skin buzzed with the sensation, while the tired lamp flickered by the wall. The tall man pried him away and began prodding his body, nudging hard at his torso or plucking at his legs. Mono gave his usual growl of agitation, his arms scrabbled with the Thin Man’s wrists but he failed to dislodge himself from the fingers locked around his waist. “Why are you like this?”

A steady hum filled the air around Mono’s head, as the Thin Man glared at his restrained arm. Mono kicked at nothing, the Thin Man wasn’t near enough to get smacked.

“Do you ever not manage to maim yourself? Boy.”

The glitchy distortion sent his head into a spiral, though nothing happened, aside from the Thin Man easing down to sit on the couch. As for Mono, with a growl he latched onto the space between the Thin Man’s thumb and forefinger. The Thin Man did nothing but crackle about him never getting all bloodied, or whatever. Mono focused on chewing on the hand.

“Why do I bother tending your wounds,” warbled the man in the hat. “Your mission is to wander off and get brutalized. More blood is on that coat than in you.”

The lack of reaction made Mono clamp down tighter, even if it did nothing. Maybe something would change. He would make something change. A disapproving gust reminded him that his hat was still missing.

“Very well. Get it out of your system.”

The fingers pressed into his spine and Mono hated it. He hated being small and not doing anything right. The Thin Man would find out Mono messed up, and another kid was gone. That was why the Thin Man didn’t want him around the other kids. He was danger and he didn’t like when Mono disappeared, cause the kids….. The Thin Man would find them. Nothing stopped the Thin Man.

“There is no need to blubber like that,” the voice crackled in his ears. “You found me. Such a clever little boy.”

“Little,” Mono murmured.

“Yes.” The hands fixed around his shoulders moved, and he could pluck his head up to see the shadowed face of the man and his hat gaze down on him, the eyes glinting. “Such a little self-important boy. You believe the world revolves around you.”

Mono couldn’t fathom what all the speek meant. He repeated without direction, “Little.”

“Little,” the static affirmed. “You are certainly not tall. Not for some time.”

The Thin Man made such strange speek. Always about ‘event-yulls’ and ‘pare-doxes’ or ‘somedays’. The tall thin man always insisted, one day he would be gone. Mono was always meant to be alone. Always.

Why could he not keep the Thin Man? It must have to do with the danger and the other children. The Thin Man didn’t know anything about the other kids. Someday that would all change. Just like Mono would fight the Tower, the Thin Man would have to go, too.

Mono was barely getting his feet tucked up and his face buried back into the Thin Man’s suit, when the hands pulled him away and set him on the cold floor. He didn’t stay put – he couldn’t! The Thin Man was already glitching across the room, his shoes tapped across the floor in their rhythmic way. The tall figure only paused in the archway briefly, the lamp barely catching the shimmery glint of static before the Thin Man disappeared.

It took Mono more time to reach the Thin Man. It did help that the Thin Man didn’t keep moving, and was even looking back as Mono rushed down the corridor. The tallest figure in all the city even stayed still as Mono raced all the way to him, his own steps slowing when he was a few steps from the shoes. Mono tilted his head far back and found the shining eyes watching him from beneath the shadow of the important hat.

A shiver twisted at Mono’s spine. He didn’t want the Thin Man to find out about the other kids. He wanted the Thin Man to stay and have company. And also – it scared him to think though – Mono didn’t care about the other kids. He didn't. This always happened, they ran away. They left Mono or got stole, or hurt him. The Thin Man didn't understand anything about children. He was too tol.

Even though he didn’t get a good look at the girl, he knew her face would find its way into his dream haunts. She was nothing but one of the many he failed, and the memories would haunt him. And he hated her for getting tricked. It wasn’t his FAULT! I̵t̸ ̴ w̷a̷s̵n̷'̴t̷!̷

He jolted when a weight settled onto his head. Roughly.

It was the Thin Man’s palm. He gave Mono’s head a rough pat before straightening and glitching away. The silhouette flashed further down the hall. The gesture didn’t make Mono feel better, it did the opposite. The act did mean something to Mono, and that was the Thin Man didn’t mind him chasing. Nothing would happen to the Thin Man. He wouldn't let it.

Choking back some of the knotting in his chest, Mono broke into another run. He chased after the steady threading of static humming in the dwelling, simmering beneath the cracking clicks of the Thin Man’s steps. Tick-tick, tick-tock – the same sharp chiming that rolled through the endless corridor Mono spent ages trying to reach the end of. Opening that door had been the worst thing he’d ever done, but it had also been his most favorite.

If not for the Thin Man trying to keep Her and him, then Mono would have no one.

Next

#little nightmares #lil nightmares #mono #feral mono #the thin man #thin dad #jsut feral child bein feral and child #i like slipping in segments where mono imitates thin mans behavior #mono tries to figure out some things #like how to explain that kids are small and soft and should be handled carefully #the notes for the spider creatures read as such - spider fukin creepy #they are in fact very creepy

[grim-faux]

X5 _ Soft Wood Has No Reflection

First – A Small Quiet

A story. The Thin Man told him many stories about all the things, and Mono had listened to all of what the man and his hat would say.

By the dull light from a murky window, he carved deep into the plaster with a bit of metal. The tool smelled thick of rust and the flaking dust made his nose tingle, but he worked all the same to form the pictures he was familiar with. There the formed the many children he knew about. The man and his hat had many children, he always went to look for them. Mono always chased, but he never saw the children the Thin Man kept. That was how it always was.

He made the same mistakes with Her too.

While scratching out the shape of a television, he wondered where it was real and what was the story? When the Thin Man looked at him, something important was there. It wasn’t like together, but it was more than the company. Or that was a part of the story too. It made sense to him way back ago, but now that he thought more and scratched at the wall, he doubted what he thought. He spent a lot of time looking after the Thin Man, sharing with him the important stuff – food, the speek, and he told the Thin Man how wanted he was. Mono would always take care of him.

But it was all the silly child nonsense. Mono didn’t have anything the Thin Man wanted, and he shouldn’t have tried so much. It was all a game of pretend, and it made Mono feel mighty for a short time. All things must come to an end. The man in the hat said it once about how he was ‘grow up’ or something. The speek was strange, and Mono settled on thinking it meant to forget or runaway. The way the man and the hat made the sounds, it was like ‘grow up’ was something Mono had to do, but only if to figure something else out. Most of the time the Thin Man didn’t make sense, but Mono always paid attention. The stories were important.

The tall man didn’t leave Mono, he just never thought about Mono. The Thin Man had so many children, everywhere, across the city. Children to visit and look at, all the children the Thin Man had found, scared children and cautious children. Mono was just one of the children, but the Thin Man never liked visiting him. So Mono made sure to chase. He was good at finding the Thin Man. The best at it.

He would always be the best.

The scrawl of the man and his hat was not incredibly tol, but Mono did his best with how high he could reach. It wasn’t warning speek, he never did warning speek about the tall thin man. Very near the curved shapes, meant to be the Thin Man’s shoes, he added a small scribble shape. The shape sort of had a cube atop the triangular mass, but Mono wasn’t really specific on who the child should be. The man in the hat always had a child with him. Very rarely did Mono see him without one of his children that was not Mono.

“Mono. Am Mono. Mono,” he mumbled, with each scritch and every drag of the flint.

There was no child called Mono. The Thin Man had a boy and a child and another child and another boy, and sometimes a brat. Mono liked the speek brat, but the Thin Man always knotted his face in a way that Mono knew it wasn’t good speek. He still liked the way it sounded.

“Nu-sance.”

All stories had to end. If they didn’t, Mono would go nowhere and nothing would happen. He might stop and go nowhere anymore, and that was always bad. Children that stopped turned cold and hard, and never ran ever again. That wouldn’t happen to Mono. He knew what had to happen, he remembered. It was important he never forget that story, and the Thin Man made helped him know what was supposed to happen. He did try to make something different happen, he wanted to keep his Thin Man more than anything. But he couldn’t.

For a while, he had something that felt very warm and important. It was the biggest thing he had ever felt, and the heavy sensation always awed him with how wonderful it was to cling to. With every ounce of his mighty power, he bundled it up and locked it in his core – into whatever made Mono a Mono. It couldn’t be found anywhere, but he felt it deep inside his world. The best things could not be clutched, they just were.

That never existed, though. It was the story Mono made for himself. He chased the Thin Man and thought about the things they could do, where they should go. Everything that made Mono happy, he tried to share with the Thin Man. But to the man in the hat, there was no one called Mono. Mono chased ideas, he found comfort in stories, and the man in the hat didn’t think about which child he found, or which boy he looked at. A child was a child. All of them were the same.

To Mono, he was the most important child. Ever. And he wanted the Thin Man to see how great he was, how amazing Mono was as the best company.

The flint plinked softly when it fell beside his knees. Mono couldn’t hold it anymore, he couldn’t press the sharp edge in the soft wood and carve out the stories he made about the Thin Man.

That was all they were. Stories. Silly stories of ideas Mono wanted. The dreams he had, about the Thin Man smiling with something so impossibly warm it made Mono beam back with the mightiest of grins. Once upon a time, the thin Man scared him so much and he hated the tall thin man for taking Her. Now, all he wanted was to smell the smoke and curl up in his long arms, to shy away from awful roaring thunder, and hide from all the hate the world threw at him.

He settled on curling up in his coat, beside the wall he had marked his story into. The pictures answered his questions about where the Thin Man went for his long and busy. It helped him understand why he would always be alone, and how dumb it was to think about anything but food and shelter. Nothing lasts forever. Especially the things that made Mono so warm and happy.

The Thin Man was far from knowing anything about Mono, but that was how it was supposed to be. Mono remembered, he never forgot. He just wanted to pretend a little longer. Now?

Now.

It was time for Mono to gather his thoughts and all the pieces that made him – Mono. He was ready to run as far as he could and search for that edge of the city, where the waters lapped at the shore, and the other wilderness waited beyond the misty rains. It was time for Mono to find new places to tuck his head down and rest in the half sleep. Just like now.

A long-long journey awaited him, it would be lonesome and dangerous. But the Thin Man left him a long time ago. Nothing could hurt him now.

Mono settled his head behind his knees and soothed out the tremors in his shoulders. Very soon, a bubble of warmth formed in the tent his coat formed. The empty room creaked the way they always did, and the wispy gale clawed at windows. None of that reached Mono. He refused to feel anything.

Next

#little nightares #lil nightmares #lil lil nightmares fanfic #feral mono #mono #the thin man #thin dad #very short #i needed to write something #so we heckin wrote something said #(these are going to be fluffy) I said #(its gonna be filled with so much wholesome) I said #WHOOPSIE

[grim-faux]

3 _ 34 _ One Day the Rain Continued Falling

First - An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

It was hard to find time for stop to important things like eat and rest. Scrounging up the leftover moments for plus activities, sometimes for pictures and the sneak practice, was also a struggle that didn't happen a lot - every move and the journey through buildings was an unending test of skill. Except... if he failed in flee from a Viewer, that would be forever. Doing unnecessary stuff was last on his list of work when he had spare time to sit and think, and rest. And! Carve stories into walls.

He could do stories until his head plopped onto his knees, and he thought about nothing. Scratching down the adventures made them more to... far away, and elsewhere. It put a great distance between him and all the creatures lurking, and for a while they couldn't find him.

The Thin Man didn’t like him. That was important. Even if he wanted it to be different with the man and his hat, he already knew the Thin Man didn’t like any children. Even Mono. It wasn't really a mystery, but it cleared up stuff. If it was a lie or not wasn't something to think on, except that one thing for certain was that the man in the hat didn’t like anything. The deep frowns and long, dark stares, the static crackling across the shoulders and crisp coat – that was everything.

Nothing Mono did in all his ways, all his treasures and food things, and all the company, didn’t mean anything to the Thin Man. Still, he liked doing important things for the tall thin man, and maybe he would smile again. It was dumb, after all the time he spent with Her and how that turned out, he knew nothing he did would mean anything. All the same, that was fine. He liked the chase and keeping the Thin Man. That was the most important for Mono, because it all meant so much to him. And the Thin Man couldn't stop him.

In some rare patches of stillness, Mono wouldn't bother the risk of shedding his armor. Not for anything. Maybe to change a shirt if he found clothing that fit right, but only then and briefly. Through his trek of the city and exploring, he never found a wonderful coat like the one that was him. He didn’t even recall where he found it, let alone a time before it was him. The coat always cloaked his shoulders and shielded his legs, and he felt very exposed while it was off for mending.

A splint of bone worked fine to draw a thread around the tattered edges, closing up wounds the heavy fiber suffered in his steed. In the back of the splinter, a crease held the thread in place as he glided the pointy end among the fibers. Like a spider with silk, he restored the ratty patches with discolored hues. There was no shortage of thread, he only needed some clothing, and that was all over the city. He had a whole wad of thread jammed into the loop of his pants, since he didn’t want to leave the wall he was crammed into. The boards against his shoulder vibrated, as another chair erupted into splinters. He paused, steely eye contact never wavering from the glittering blade of light used to mark the progress of his stitching. When the dust cleared, he tugged the thread tight and appreciated how the thread melted together.

The crumbly beam of timber he perched upon rattled, as another projectile galloped across the floor. A burst of garbled static and shrieks cut through the drywall, blazing through his ear drums. Regardless the disturbance, Mono focused on his craft. He was worried the Thin Man’s big speek and outburst would draw something into the rooms, but he wasn’t going out there until he finished. If some horrible creature did sprout from a wall, Mono wouldn’t hesitate to help the Thin Man. Until then, he had plenty to do.

Another burst of rambling chatter spilled from the Thin Man, and Mono didn’t bother with trying to make sense of it. He was busy listening for heavy boots, and creaking wails of Viewers, or any other sort of danger. For the most part, the building was bare and didn't have televisions, or Mono had heard none on his scouts. The problem with not a lot of creatures lurking around, was also not a lot of food. he hated the monsters, but they horded the food and always had plenty. His pickings lately hadn't been much, and he wondered if that is what set the Thin Man off. A lot of things put the man in the hat into a mood, but Mono was never sure watch creak or whatever did it.

If the Thin Man was having a dream haunt or dream wandering, he would try to do more for help. But this was just a tantrum, and Mono needed to use the slight of lull to prepare his coat for a dozen or a hundred more journeys through the streets. His focus helped drown out some of the hissing, but it always found a way to whittle through his mind the same way a crunchy beetle burrowed into soft wood.

Some of the broken noises was the same as what the Thin Man hummed for Mono. All the speek buzzed through his head, he had snippets and garbled sounds that didn't make sense. He could try imitating the noises, but not here. While the man and his hat was distracted by hissing at a chair, he wouldn’t suspect Mono was around.

The thought made Mono’s lips tuck deeper into his face. He needed to work a snag out of the thread, or he’d mess up a stitch. Another shiver rolled through the drywall, and Mono scrubbed the ball of his palm into his eye. For a while, the Thin Man was distracted by shadows flickering in the corners of a room, and muttering about… si…culls, or sigh-all. Something.

Mono bit his lip, and very carefully turned the fold of his coat over without disturbing the fine layer of dust on his hair.

He thinks the Thin Man was annoyed about the fragment Mono touched. He was sure the Thin Man could see them, but also wasn’t. The glitching children lingered in strange places and dark corners, he suspected the man and his hat saw them too, but ignored them. They were not his children. No more. But Mono was curious about the shadows, the movement, if they were ever real children or if they were shades that remembered real children. He didn’t mind them, since they never bothered him or Her. They existed, unless... Mono got too close.

On the other side of the wall, the precise and steady clicking drifted by. The long legs shredded a patch of gray light, causing Mono to pause in his threading. In the room beside him, some unknown cry erupted. It wasn’t the Thin Man, though a chattered snarl laced with buzzing. Something solid and definitely not wood or cotton, crashed into an unyielding barrier – either the floor or wall – this was followed by crashing, wood groaning, and a calamity of thundering implosion.

Mono coiled his arm under his coat and scooted back; his arm with the bone splint braced him to a brittle mesh of wood fiber. He waited, leafing through a decision of flee or wait, and where to go in the cramped space. Beyond the wall it went silent, and the Thin Man made more big speek. The vibrations didn’t let up by much, and the Thin Man continued to crackle and hiss through his teeth. The leaf of burst and scatters of embers clawed through the little crack, before they cooled and left only a flat gloom. It took several seconds before the haze cleared in Mono's eyes.

Bro’keen fra’gents. Pair-docks. The sigh-culls. Loops. Ree’pair. Undone. Inu’vah’bill.

At first Mono was spooked when the Thin Man had cupped him between his palms and sat with him, staring at Mono so intently and seeing so much of him. He thought the Thin Man wanted the speek, and prepared for a barrage of noises he would work on repeating - the Thin Man had favorites. But pauses came. When the Thin Man went through the speek, he didn’t stop, didn’t instruct or draw on the sounds. The event mystified him, since the Thin Man always wanted him to make the sounds back - some pieces he recognized, others blurred into the endless discussion.

Mist’skates. Destroy. Break. Hard. Try. Imposs’bull. Ee’road. Pointless. Co-sist. Pole'rised.

In the rare spans when the Thin Man went quiet and shifted Mono in his hands, he would nod and reassure the man in the hat, “Am understand. Mm-hmm.” After a while, the Thin Man started to give him a look and arch a brow beneath the deep shadow of his hat, so Mono took it as indication he needed to be quiet and company. A different sort of company, but the Thin Man was happy he was there. He needed Mono to pay attention.

“It will come to you.” He always muttered something like that. And went on, about the powers and u'teese-lies he wanted Mono to do. It was for fixing, something about Mono was wrong, and the man in the hat didn’t know how to make it right?

Nothing made sense. All the speek was a confusing mesh of white noises, and a lot of the story seemed lost on the Thin Man too. Mono did his very best to follow the sounds and crackles of static, but it sizzled in his skull. It worked best to make speek and punctuate everything with pictures, and show what noises looked like in his thoughts. The man in the hat didn’t want pictures and only made marks, he wanted to make noises and peer at Mono with a chiseled sternness. This all must’ve meant something to the Thin Man, he had a lot of thoughts and no one to share them with but children. It made Mono wonder if the Thin Man sat with the other children and told them stories, and if they listened as intently as he did. He gave the Thin Man a nod and patted the wrist cloaked in the cufflink.

Later, when he had the chance, he could put the pictures on the wall for the Thin Man. He could use some of his stories to fix the patches that confused Mono.

The important work on his coat was done. Tying off the thread at the collar, Mono bit close to the knot and ended his work. He fixed the folds and checked for any overlooked snags, though he had been so thorough with his work. After smoothing the sleeves and getting used to the weight on his shoulders, he pressed his face against the crack and searched the room. He hadn’t realized how quiet it was now, he was so busy. The sizzling pulse had long since dimmed, it was darker than what he recalled. As he moved among the chunks of ruble and lent, he pushed his face against narrow gaps and searched the furnishings that remained intact... mostly. 

It annoyed him that the notch he squeezed in through was no more, and the entire wall on that side had caved inward. Backtracking was typical for navigating tricky places, but this wasted time when he should already be doing something else.

He turned around and scurried through the dust, or squeezed under splint shards of wood dislodged from whatever ruined the winding passage. He searched for a gap in the murk or glimpses of light, one of the two would hint a pathway or something. At length, the crumbling drywall barred his path, but exposed slates in the wall above his head offered a new direction. After climbing in the dark, a musty draft wheezed through a crack in the boards. This opening breached into the next room, where it was damp and the distant trickle of rains wandered through.

The fall was pretty tall, but he fell from higher. He crashed hard to his heels and hands, but recovered fast - that was a big part of flee. As well, he stayed crouched and low, listening for signs of danger or anything that might’ve caught the thump of his weight on the floor warped board. Once satisfied by the prevailing hush, he moved around the perimeter of the room, scanning the crushed furniture and weaving around glittery glass. Light from a distant doorway showed where to put his feet, and he found his way to the corridor outside. This place he recognized, so he didn't get lost from the dwelling. Great!

To his relief, the dull hum of static slipped through the vacant rooms, and the bulbs pulsed with a faint rhythm that almost matched his own heartbeat. Somewhere. Not far. Aside from the rustling croon, only the creaking floors and howling storm crowded his thoughts. He meandered through the stuffy veil, scouting each room for unseen creatures, maybe a sinnapede.

It startled him when inching around one doorframe, and to barely recognize the crumpled body buried with wood splinters and whatever else. The legs barely registered, before his head caught up with the inert heap concealed within the carnage. Reflexively, he huddled in the doorway like a scrap of scenery, judging the threat and masking his breathing. It wasn't necessary, the shape didn't move, like the ones that crashed into the pavement in the roads. Only the insistent cry of the wind carried through the room, among the suppressed cackle of aching wood. He's sure that creature had not been here at all, ever. Was the Thin Man okay?

Mono tore away from the scene and resumed his quest. As it turned out, the seeking didn’t last long. More cautious since the discovery, he slipped into a dark room with slain furniture.

Without wasting a moment to catch his breath, he dashed across the floor and pounced onto the Thin Man’s hand. The tallest silhouette sat slouched at the furthest wall, knees drawn high and arms draped like dehydrated vines at his sides. Mono wrapped his arms around the wrist and tried tugging the arm further away from the Thin Man. Or tried. Despite how thin the long arm was, he couldn’t budge it an inch. Was hurt? Okay? The man in the hat didn't shift, but the steady hissing of static was a good sign. Mono persisted in silence, but couldn't drag a reaction from the Thin Man.

Next he scooted under a gap of the arm and struggled to lift it with his back. Very heavy. Impossible. He undertook a valiant effort to make the tall thin man corporate, even getting on his back and pushing with his feet, but it was no use. He withdrew from the task and decided his efforts would be suited for climbing.

He climbed over the arm and gripped a seam on the suit. First he checked if the Thin Man had budged, but he couldn't see with the shadow of the hat. He hoisted up the suits' side, but his effort was immediately ended when fingers slipped around his middle. The grip snapped him free before he could anchor his grip.

“No. Hey.” When the hand set him back on the floor, he rushed to the Thin Man and scrambled onto his middle. “Hmm? Y’better? Hurt?” The suit didn't have any stains and the only scent lingering was the stale smoke - he still liked that though. He tugged at the suit, searching for sheared threads or other damage. "Lemme see?" As before, the obnoxious hand scooped him up and relocated him, further away this time. “No. NoNo.” He hissed, and grabbed the side of the Thin Man’s coat. Without any effort on the hands part, he was ripped away and set further away. “Tell s'hurt? Y'not?”

The drooping shroud glittered into a perilously high stance, evading Mono and leaving the boy to crash to the floor. Without missing a shimmer or a stutter, the glitchy shadow stepped over him. The tapping steps moved through the dim room, and in only three strides he was almost to the dim doorway.

Does follow? Mono sat up and tilted his head. Was okay? The Thin Man seemed okay, but he hid many things. He watched the silhouette bow through the doorway; for a brief spell the room was intimidated and paled.

Without prompt or rejection, he sprang after the patchy trill of static. If it was okay, he could chase. If the Thin Man found an other child… Mono could hide, and he wouldn’t be a problem. That was his plan. It had been okay so far, the Thin Man didn’t give him the deep frown with the dark lines in his face. Everything would be good.

__

The segment of his life before the Thin Man didn’t mean that much to Mono. He thought about... Her a lot, especially when he chased the Thin Man through the streets. In the gaps among allies and gutted buildings, he thought She was… No. It was other children, but not Her. He’s sure they were other children, but he never got a glimpse of them. Just a footprint in silt, or a shadow sliding into the shadow of a dumpster. Or, it was his imagination. He thought the faces of those that filled his dream haunts, stared at him through murky puddles chipped by rain drops. They remembered him, even if he didn't recognize them. Where did all those kids go?

The fire heaved its dry breath across the room, the broiling waves of its stare observed each child in turn. Then, they screamed. One-by-one, each stole. Gone. Thee place they went was unknown, but he knew. All children knew what became of those stole. Cages. A boiling pot. A gleaming knife. Piles of clothing. A stained countertop. No more.

He saw plenty of those in the Hunter’s cabin. Even if the meat smelled ‘‘‘‘safe’’’’, or the fridge still worked, he wouldn't dare. His soured stomach could wait. And the sing. He followed it across the forest, through the tall grass and the traps stained brown and black. Tricks to maim and others to end.

The Thin Man sat on a crumbling brick wall, the small flame smoldered under the rim of his hat and his eyes gleamed. They wandered for some time before the Thin Man needed for stop. By now Mono was certain the man and the hat hadn't been harmed, though he kept note of every shimmer in the Thin Man's step. Just in case.

A wreckage of wired fence and the partial remains of a building, barred passage to the next patch of clear road. Mono's job was to move the fence and relocate some (not all) of the shattered wall – even if the Thin Man could glitch through, he wouldn’t leave Mono. But also, if Mono didn’t work so much to move ruble and make doors from nothing, he might could do teleport. He didn’t bother mentioning that to the Thin Man. They had same, and it was important to do other tricks. This is what Mono decided, anyway. If the Thin Man believed in him, then he should.

Really, he didn’t think he would ever be doing the stuff the Thin Man did. It was so much. It was important that Mono try, for the Thin Man.

The sides of his hat hung with the weight of the pummeling rains, the icy water rushed over his feet, and the wind drilled at the back of his neck. The fresh mending in his coat helped keep too much water from soaking into his armor, but still he was drowned all the way through. He tried to raise his hands, the way the Thin Man showed him. Again and without stall, he focused and struggled to grapple with this ‘power’ that the Thin Man insisted he had. It was in him, but digging it out was a bigger struggle than the giant wall mocking his resolve. He felt like an idiot.

All while the Thin Man stayed put on the wall, a wispy trail slithered from beneath the rim of his hat, and no comment or hint that he was awake for watch. The Thin Man never moved from his station, and Mono didn’t relent from his important busy. Not until long after the clouds darkened, and the lamp posts along the beaten road cut through the flooding dark. He kept trying, never mind how the storm snarled with laughter at his efforts.

Raise his arm. Grip for a hold. Think about moving... something. The packed cement grumbled annoyance as if a fly was bumping it.

At some point Mono couldn't lift his arm or focus much, except to keep his eyes open and glare. HIs head hurt. He may have shifted a pile of bricks and rolled back a section of fence (or that was a Viewer that plowed into the roll), but he didn't do nearly enough work to clear a path. Maybe for him. Maybe. But the Thin Man was very toll, and stood wider than Mono was shaped. The road was cluttered all the same.

Mono was spent, and wasn't going to do much else... if he had managed anything in the first place. He shuffled around and checked that, yes, the man in the hat waited and watched. Mono gave his shoulders a shake – not that this helped anything – and returned to the Thin Man.

One time, what felt like forever ago, he ran away from the Thin Man. That was how it was supposed to be. Adults hated children, they hated everything and ruined lots of stuff that Mono liked. But the adults had things they liked, too. The televisions that cast the broadcast, that was the most favorite. The fake children, scurrying around the School the Prison, and kidnapping real children to hurt. They also liked gutting dead creatures, and shoving squishy things into jars. Other adults took children apart, or stuffed them into sacks – never to be seen again.

But the Thin Man? He liked to wander the city and look for children. Like Mono. Like Her. Like the scrawny kid in the forever building maze (was he Cast?). And like the pack of children that chased Mono everywhere. But of all the children, Mono was the best. He had most same of the Thin Man, and that was important.

He huddled by the shoe and worked on collecting back whatever strength was in his body. He stared up at the shrouded face, masked by beads of water and shadows. Did the Thin Man see him, or did he not care? Mono waited, bundled in his freshly mended coat. The static drone intermixed with the clatter of pellets, and the lacey thread was near invisible - or gone entirely - it was difficult to discern in the layers of downpour.

Even if the Thin Man didn't mean danger for children, Mono knew to be cautious of the tallest creature in all the city. The man in the hat didn't like children, and that included Mono. They had all much same, and the tall thin man had a lot of thinking for Mono - of what he should do, and needed more same. That was because Mono chased. This didn't change how the Thin Man would always be adult, and he did whatever he wanted. When the Thin Man was done with Mono - maybe in a season, or even in the next moment - the Thin Man would try to disappear. He would try. This much he told Mono.  

The Thin Man made stories of how it would happened, and Mono memorized every detail. The place, the children, of getting better and fixing. Not for fixing the city to better, but making Mono better.

“Done?” the static crackled in the shadow. “You did not achieve much.”

Mono hissed through the mist sweeping across his face. He did a lot, but the Thin Man never wanted to see that through all his busy for other children. He scooted closer to the Thin Man’s ankle used the pant leg to rub the wet off his face.

The Thin Man thought he was going to be clever and trick Mono. That was what the story meant, when the man in the hat went away forever and Mono went to alone. But Mono made his own plane, and he would chase the Thin Man, no matter where he went. He wouldn't mess up this time.

With a grating sigh, the figure rose from the crumbling wall and stepped by Mono. The wall of pellets severed briefly as the movement of the silhouette sliced through the driving rain. Mono was quick to pick himself up and stagger after the lazy but long strides. The wind picked up, snagging at his waterlogged coat. He caught his hat before it could snap away, and was pleased to see a long arm bend high above the tall figure to hold his own hat steady. So same.

One time, that might've been terrible. Now, though? Now, Mono was happy.

When the Thin Man reached the collision of building and crumpled fence, he vanished in a sputtering-pop. The ordeal would have been easier on Mono, if he had energy left over to teleport as well. Since he didn’t, the few adjustments he made with the blockade would have to do, plus his agility and capacity for squeezing through the heap of ruble - everything he learned from fleeing danger -he could also use for chasing his Thin Man.

In short time, he emerged into the clearing on the other side, without falling too far behind. Stumbling, he rushed to catch up with the buzzing of static and ever present clicking of steps. The tallest buildings bent and swayed high into the black void of the sky, through the gaps storm clouds twisted and rolled. Sometimes, a crackly whine peeled out before a heavy shape Whumped! against the sidewalk, or sometime a flickering sign. The man in the hat never faltered against the sounds or storm, and neither would Mono. 

__

In the dark and grinding force of the storm, it was near impossible to track the Thin Man’s movements through the mangled roads, the gale and strange angles of the buildings was devious and masked the steady tap of the lazy stride. Even so, Mono would catch a whiff of the smoky scent and knew he was on the right track, and the prickling in his skin never duped him. Across the roads, lamp posts flashed a searing gleam, or doused completely beneath the presence of the tall thin man. He had a lot of practice keeping the Thin Man in range, and this skill would be the most important Mono could ever learn. If the Thin Man wanted to be somewhere else or go into some building without reason why, Mono went too. Or for vanished out of nowhere in a vibrating sputter, it wouldn't take Mono long to get his bearings and renew his quest. He would find the man in the hat. He couldn't hide from Mono.

So long as the Thin Man didn’t go far, Mono could find his way. Always. Inside a building, or another detached road hanging beside a vacant cliff of swirling mist. It was easiest when the man in the hat found his way into some apartment where he would wander in circles, and Mono could find him in due time. The tall man would be lost in prowling through corridors and rooms, poking at the desks or skimming the tallest shelves with his glittering eyes. He was always seeking interesting things; heavy books, piles of pages – only the ones not sodden with water or whatever leaked from the walls. Anything dry and altogether interested the Thin Man.

And Mono had his job of making sure nothing lurked in the dark rooms. He worked hardest for make sure the Thin Man knew about hazardous patches, like the floors or sagging ceilings that seemed ready to crumble onto him. Not that the man in the hat ever gave him a second glance, or acknowledged his insistent warnings - save for a nudge with his shoe. Undeterred, he made sure to tell the Thin Man about anything and everything that might come undone and hurt his hat.

And if they found a television, the Thin Man would tell Mono to tune it.

After many long going through rooms and exploring the bent halls, a place might earn his stamp of “no hide danger”, and Mono would then like to follow the tall thin man as he strolled around the rooms - hand touching his chin, the hat full of think. The Thin Man always looked at the biggest books, with thick binding, the heaviest stack of pages wedge between the covers. Full of marks but never any pictures. How those pages fascinated the Thin Man, still mystified Mono. But whatever made his Thin Man happy.

During the endless scouting through rooms, Mono always kept his focus on where there might be foods. Sometimes he located stacks of plates in the most random of places, or a box of something wedged in a drawer in some cluttered room. Or anything else that was edible, like scuttling bugs or eggs abandoned. Because of the Thin Man’s hissy fit, Mono took care about chewing on anything around him. A few crumbs could go jammed into his coat pockets, he wasn’t particular about anything getting soggy from his damp coat or shirt, as long as he had a chance later to shove something into his mouth. Always firstly, he made sure the Thin Man had something, then hid himself away to nibble on something crumbly – a cracker, or bit of dried meat thing, thick paste with crusty edges.

Then he would help the Thin Man look through shelves and whatever else. He couldn’t carry around the biggest books, but he tried to show the man in the hat other interesting items. The stuff like shiny buttons or metal disks, didn’t really grab the Thin Man’s attention. It took some effort to haul over a glass bowl, which was super heavy - something else the Thin Man didn't spare a look for. Mono stuck to whatever he could drag, stuff no bigger than him. If the man in the hat tried to wander away, he could rasp after him. Most often he had to leave the trinket, or get left behind.

He always wanted to give the Thin Man fuses, but the tall man and his hat wanted Mono to open the doors with the powers, rather than a fuse. Mono did try that once before. He really tried! No matter what he did or thought, or how he moved his arms, none of him could make it work the way the man in the hat decided he should. But always for his Thin Man, he would try. It was probably because the Thin Man was lonely, like Mono, and wanted more same. It made Mono remember for when the Thin Man would go away forever, probably to find a child that could do all the stuff the Thin Man asked.

Unlock a door. Move a chair. Power an elevator. Make a light bulb glow. The Thin Man touched his face more and more, and Mono struggled to do it right. It usually went that the Thin Man got bored of waiting and vanished. Mono would keep trying, for himself more than anything. He would have to chase his Thin Man down later, once he figured out how to get around with the powers. The Thin Man would sulk and not look at him, and Mono would pretend he was busy searching for important things.

In one of the rooms the Thin Man fiddled around in, Mono discovered a small blade in a desk. He liked to show the Thin Man his skills with dragging around something like an axe or hammer, and how he busted out doors when the latch wouldn’t work. That was how Mono got around! The Thin Man never bothered with locks, all the doors opened for him. But Mono had to do it differently, even if he could move a chair and reach the handle. If the latch didn't move, then he either found a different way or he smashed the doors base out.

The knife was dull and ground across the worn carpet. He didn’t think it would smash through wood, but the Thin Man should like it. The end still dug at the floor and was hung up on threads of carpet, but he hauled it across the room to the man in the hat.

“Psst. Look.” He tugged on the slacks of the Thin Man’s knee, and adjusted his grip on the handle. “Look.”

The Thin Man was already knelt, and already investigating a cubby full of papers. When Mono gave the pant leg another tug, the towering shape shifted to peer at him.

The knife was too heavy and clunky for him maneuvering it closer to the tall thin man. Mono settled to flop it over onto his shoe. “Look.” The bulbs above glimmered, as the hat tilted at the small knife.

Mono blinked under the rim of his hat, when the Thin Man effortlessly plucked the blade off the floor. Him lifted it like it was nothing, after all the tugging and panting of Mono hauling it over. The slender fingers held the handle daintily, and twirled it. Was this something the Thin Man wanted? Mono was more impressed by how the Thin Man stared at the knife, rather than if the Thin Man would keep.

At the same time, something occurred to him about the man in the hat and his ‘gifts’.

“Wait.” The Thin Man didn’t remove his inspection from the blade. “Want stay. Y’no go. NoNo. Hmm.” He should stay for Mono. That was important. It had been some while since the Thin Man looked for his other children. Mono liked that. He didn’t want the Thin Man to think Mono had something busy to do elsewhere. “Okay? Yu’stay.” He wanted to remind the Thin Man they had company, or something like that right now. “Am okay?”

With a scratchy sigh, the Thin Man stood at his full height and pocketed the knife. When he began to click away, Mono rushed after the retreating heels. “No,” he hissed, as loud as he dared. “Y’stay. StayStayStay. C’mon.” The man in the hat brushed him off with his shoe, but Mono recovered himself and kept pace.

“Am chase,” he snarled.

The Thin Man didn’t reply or hesitate. But all the same, Mono wouldn’t let him out of his sight. Not in all the ambiguous rooms or sagging corridors, did Mono falter from his mission. It didn’t matter if a building interior was gutted entirely, or that a run down shop was flooded and the depths filled with strange shapes - of slimy sludge, tangled cloth, or many-man bones. The man in the hat couldn’t escape his Mono! And for the while, Mono felt abundant glee for the role reversal. No other child in all the city could brag they chased a monster. And also, Mono was fearless. He would make everything right for his Thin Man. Somehow.

Still, he would rather work with the Thin Man to scout around the usual way, by rooting out keys or figuring out interesting ways to cross a chasm with interesting bridges made with rope, or punch a hole in a wall by toppling a tall and rickety shelf. There were always clever ways to get around, and none of them had him trying to teleport or whatever was on the Thin Man’s mind. He didn’t like those games. He tried to show the Thin Man how cunning he was, but the Thin Man was more curious about him making a stupid lamp glow. The dummy.

Somehow, he did get a light bulb to fill with buzzing embers… until it burst into a wave of sparks!

Mono was very excited about that trick (it was short but whatever)! The Thin Man would do speek about how that was something, and so ah-cheev-men for once. It usually went, the bulb burst but didn't do nothing else. This time, without really expecting anything, the coil of wire inside the glass burned so bright and orange, Mono had to look away. Then! Only then, it exploded! It glowed for a whole second! Or more!

As usual, the Thin Man didn’t get it. He only shook his head, and with a scratchy warble turned away. He did see what Mono did. He did! But the man in the hat was in no way wowed, at least not like Mono was. That wasn’t fair!

__

After that rare event, getting told to do things got stopped. If he was honest, Mono was relieved to have a break - he had plenty for keep busy with, too. Such being, seek out the Thin Man when he wandered off. Again. It could be more of make Mono do tricks, but on his own. The likely culprit was the Thin Man vanished for look at the other children, and he would reappear after Mono searched for him enough. The habits and doings of the Thin Man confused Mono too much, but he was eager to do the powers right. If only he could get straight what he could do.

While the rooms and corridors lay quiet, and the walls steadily creaked – he tried to wake up elevators from their dazed and ancient slumber. He would stand inside the lift box, trying to make the door close (he felt kind of dumb doing this, and waving his hands around). Or, he stood outside and focused on reviving the cold cables, and trying to rouse that gnarled gears connected to the rusted cable. Only the bulb inside the elevator box buzzed with life, and a few insects hummed around the only glimmer light within miles. The hall lay dim and sodden, the wallpaper wilting. Even the walls slumbered in silence, while Mono bashed his heels into the splintered boards.

This display of agitation ended, when a sliver pierced his heel. Mono crumpled to the floor, but went immediately to gnaw the offending bite from his calloused heel. It took a few nips and ripping of skin embedded with grit, but with expert ease he chewed out all the bits of the wood flint. With the crisis averted, he decided to let the lift alone. For now.

While going on to explore through the corridor and few rooms that would open, he persisted to try for make other things move; like the way the Thin Man thought he could. A heap of ruble in a corridor, a bent doorway with a jammed lock? He struggled to make those things reform, disappear, or explode. He had to be able to make something more happen, if only he could get a grasp for the sensation. He felt something... like when he teleported. Getting a read on the sensation and how it felt against his finger tips, was really messing him up. It was there, he just couldn't hold the power for it.

One time, he really did wreck a building. The floors, its windows, all the walls - he didn't remember how it happened or why it all went away, but he knew that it was all him. With his arms raised, everything evaporated from his fingertips. The Thin Man was there, and nearly disappeared too. He didn’t ever want that to happen again. The thought made him shudder.

Ages later, and he swore he hadn’t given up. He just needed something smaller, something he could grapple with and focus all on.

To his semi-disappointment, rather than stumble onto this illusive perfect project, he instead found where the Thin Man had gone for the hide and quiet.

Even when Mono wasn’t trying, he was too good at find the man in the hat. That was his favorite game, too. They played many games, and finding the Thin Man was the most greatest. It was because the Thin Man didn't care for hiding, not unless the other children.... Mono was careful. He always made certain the man  and his hat didn't have anything doing that would unexpect Mono.

A lone crack in the roof became the only way for Mono to get into the room. The narrow gap had formed in the splintered woof, where the cables and bolts of a dangling lamp pried the slate loose. Very carefully, he squeezed between the boards and let himself drop to the bowl of a sagging lamp. He almost tipped out when his weight caused the thread wire to wrench a bolt loose; however, the tangle of wires kept the lamp anchored. For the most part. He climbed from the bowl and dangled from the edge, before dropping to the floor.

The entire lamp came crashing down afterwards, the glass shattered and biting bits dusted the carpet. Mono launched to his feet and rushed to the nearest cabinet, where he hid in the black cloak it cast. Dust curled across the pitiful haze cast from the doorway, at the far side of the room. The only light glided from that portal, and with its gleam he examined the distant walls. Once the echo faded off, no sounds clattered through the pace beyond the doorway - not even the trickle of water, or the wheeze of walls. The vacant space held dust rather mist, the dank breath of mildew soaked the air.

This place was not same. Okay. The soft mumur of static prickled under his skin and tingled under his cap. New place was danger, but the man in the hat was somewhere.

Like always, he began with the scout through quiet rooms and made plans about the pathways formed by vacant corridors, and the dusty layers coating the floors. Many of the windows he inspected had not shattered entirely, and the boards held out the driving pellets that rattled the slates. Some closed doors shunned his important inspection, but he did find what must be the kitchen place - even if part of the cabinets lay in mounds of insect riddled ruble. After that, he followed the steady hum to find where the Thin Man was.

The very tall man had put himself in a distant and secluded room. His long frame was folded over at a table, the soft scuffing churned with the wind howling, and the faint scratching at the table. The tall thin man was fine, so Mono went off to check the other rooms.

This place was probably where the Thin Man wanted to nest. He liked the dry and quiet areas, where no televisions sang or crackled, and nothing pounded in the other rooms with clomping boots. From his search through the building, Mono didn’t recall seeing any Snatchers or Viewers. To be honest, he didn’t know what sort of building this was. He got in through a broken window, but from the outside shrouded by mist and clouds, it looked tall. Some buildings, he suspected they went forever beyond the cloud layer. Maybe to the moon, and to lands further than he could imagine.

While the Thin Man had quiet and alone, Mono found to busy with the pilfering of food things. It was easy to figure out a kitchen - even one ruined and coming undone - by the dozen of cabinets and cupboards and drawers, and other storage places for food things. He hid in a cupboard and chewed through boxes and waxy paper covers, he licked clean the wrappers and nibbled the crusty stuff when it gathered on his fingers. Between every few swallows, he wandered off to find some water and then went back to it. Always, he made sure to save something for the Thin Man.

He carried a hefty canister in his arms, and went through the main corridor, back to where the Thin Man was. Carefully, he set the container beside the doorframe and knelt. In his brief absence, the man in the hat hadn’t moved; not an inch, aside from his elbow, while his arm wriggled across the table. The steady scratching filled the space, alongside the soft brush of his arm across the stacks of pages.

If the Thin Man wanted to stop in a dry room but there was no table, then he would make one from nothing. Or… he made it with chunks of wood and whatever else he peeled from the walls, with the powers he controlled. Of course he did. The Thin Man could do anything. He was amazing!

The think about all the stuff the Thin Man could do, or chose not to, always made Mono's breath come a little quicker. He didn’t try for think about how it might’ve happened, if he raised his hand and tried to… do anything to the man in the hat, when they stood in the street. It would’ve been a bad end.

In the end of everything, it went terrible anyway. But! Now he had his Thin Man, and he could always chase. He could catch the Thin Man for keep, and the the man in the hat let him be around, looked at him, and did the speek. That was most important. Forget Her. She was horrible. And She was gone, too.

For the now, Mono left the can beside the doorframe and crept into the room. The even prickle of static was thick, and the lamp on the other side of the table flashed or sputtered. When he stood directly beside, or beneath, the desk, he couldn’t see the Thin Man no more. Just his knees, and his lanky frame bowed over the table. That meant he had many thoughts, many rambling quiet lines to put onto the papers. The smoke smell hovered in a fog around the hat, and the dense scratching gnawed at the tables surface.

A bucket was the only item in the room that had height, and that he could shove close to the table. When he caught the edge of the table and hoisted himself over the edge, he was met by pages strewn everywhere. A few stacks of books hid his arrival from the Thin Man, but he also couldn’t see the face of hat. This prompted Mono to duck down, as if hiding from a ghastly menace seeking specimens to cram into a jar.

The arm moved from scratching at a page, and a heavy cloud rolled across the pillars of books.

When the scuffing resumed, Mono slipped down onto his tummy and watched between the books, while the hand worked deftly with the pencil. He liked to watch the graceful movement of the fingers, forming curves and slashes. The stained end hardly left the page, but gaps appeared all the same. A little beyond the wrist, sat a familiar heap of soot and crushed stubs.

Mono snorted, and moved his attention to the piles and scatter of pages left among the books. Some of the marks he recognized, but he didn’t know if they had meaning – unlike pictures, which showed a distinct message. A circle, a line, four shorter lines, maybe clothing and hair, a hat… a child. It depended on who the speek was to. Mono was a square, a triangle, and lines. She was….

He scooted between the stacked books and reached for a page. The discolored surface went corner and edge, all layered in thick or thin lines, and some overlapping in weird ways. When he tried to haul the paper close, a firm tug snapped it out of his grip.

“Do N̶̲͒o̶̩͌ṯ̵̒ ̸̙͑ Ṫ̶̙e̴͗͜s̶̰̊ẗ̵̳́ me.”

Mono tucked his arms back under his coat and settled to watch the man in the hat resume his scratching – corner to edge, and side. Another page filled, and then sifted between the pages of a book. Then the man in the hat stopped for a puff on the smoke stick.

That was all he did. But sometimes he did something different, like flip through a book. Or write in a book! Much of the time was spent on scratching across the pages. The whole while, Mono observed in his hushed bubble. He was good company. Even when his shoulders began to droop, and his forehead cracked once into the tables surface. He snapped his head up, nearly knocking his own hat off.

With all the stealth in his arsenal, he slunk among the forest of books and made it to the Thin Man’s stationary arm. A lone finger tapped against a stack of pages, as if warning Mono.

But Mono was crafty. He skimmed by the edge of the pages, and made it beside the contemplative arm. He checked over the Thin Man’s elbow, and made sure the face and all the attention had not found him yet. The Thin Man stayed focused on his very favorite busy stuff.

“Hmm? Watch?”

The scuffing and movement of the pencil didn’t stop. The finger didn’t slow or cease tapping at the papers - all decorated with the Thin Man's favored lines.

“S’watch? Improt’hhn.” He tugged on the Thin Man’s sleeve. “Y’watch? Hmm? Am—” He bowed his head low when a finger pressed down onto his hat. "Murhh...."

“S̷̜͐h̵͉̕h̵̙͊h̵̝͊.̵̮̐.̵̰̌.̵̧͘.̶̞̂”

Mono shuffled back from the hand. “For watch.” In response, the formerly passive arm knocked him backwards. He wrangled his balance, before he toppled off the tables edge.

“Ḩ̴͒ụ̸̆s̸͓̚h̶̋͜,̸͆ͅ ̶̬͊ O̶̠͘r̶͉͆ ̴̝̄ I̶̧͑ ̸̬̔ Ẅ̴̲́ì̷͍l̷͔̏l̸̤̐ ̸͈͊ G̷͇͝i̸̱̇v̸̟͌e̸̤͠ ̸̖̆ Y̴̖͝o̷̮͆u̵̹̽ ̴̗͆ S̵̼̿o̶̟͐m̸̝̊e̷̩͗t̶̲̍h̶̟͐i̸̧̿n̶͉̔g̶͙̈ ̴͇̕ Ṫ̶͚õ̶̯ ̸̡̍ Ẇ̵͇ā̴̱ṱ̴̾c̸̥͝h̵̼̊.̴̟͘” The Thin Man never dismissed his frigid interest from the paper. He resumed his line sketching, as if he had never spoke.

Mono grabbed the edges of his hat and heaved it down over his head. He scooted back on his knees and buried his heated cheeks into the comforting darkness within the soggy cloth. He listened to the movement of the arm as the man in the hat worked, alongside the dull grinding. It sounded nice, mixing with the broil of static and the tingling in his ears.

He only poked his head up to give the room a short glimpse, and check for shadows that might be out of place. The only doorway was to one side of the room, and the Thin Man’s shoulder faced it – he could see if something traipsed in. Probably would hear a creature first.

If he wasn’t lost in the mark speek.

It was a long while before Mono decided to turn his own focus back to the man in the hat. The eyes glittered beneath the amazing hat, and he wondered what it could be the Thin Man for think about. He could only wonder and watch, while another page was darkened with marks before being it was shuffled aside; it didn’t look like anything but thickened scribbles. Nothing the Thin Man ever scratched down made sense to Mono.

“S’portant?” he dared whisper. And tugged on the sleeve, same as before. But this time, gently. “T’scratch make? S'to happy? That’n’port’hnnn….” His heart skipped when the pencil stopped moving and the hissing static became a churning simmer.

Was this not good company? Did he do wrong?

“Very I̷͓͗m̴̲̋p̷̯͝o̴͕̐r̴͈̔t̵͕̀a̵̩̒ṇ̸̒t̴̗́,” the static relented.

Mono wrested with a sniffle. “Ehn'more t’portant… Mono.” He clutched at the lapels of his own coat and bit on his lip, so it wouldn’t quiver. It was a long moment, before the chair creaked as the man in the hat shifted. The dark gaze and the rigid face turned to observe him directly. Mono tried smiling.

“It is important. For you. We discussed this.”

Mono tucked his face low. That was confusing. He didn’t… well, there came so many stories with the Thin Man. He didn’t recall much, but… there was something about the Eye, and a corridor somewhere - behind the screen? Or was it a door? It was all lost in the swirling stories for a child and this awful sadness bubbling inside. A sad child, lost someplace. One of the children the Thin Man looked for, but couldn’t find. He didn’t know which it was, or if Mono had ever seen that one. There were so many.

“Am here,” he reminded. “Keep. Okay? For you.” The Thin Man stared at him without a sound, save for the buzz of static. “That s’portent. Am keep.”

The man in the hat shouldn’t think about gone children and the ones that didn’t run anymore. It wasn’t good for him. Mono took care of the Thin Man. He took care of watch, and he would get everything the tall thin man needed. Nothing would hurt his Thin Man with Mono protecting him.

“You are something. Huh.”  The elbow pushed him away. “How about the child undertake a fresh task. You have hovered long enough.”

Mono shook his head. “Watch.” He whined when the Thin Man scooped him up. “No. Down. Lemme stay.”

A crackly wisp of smoke swarmed the Thin Man’s hat, as he carried Mono to the doorway. “I can do without the yowling.”

The hands released Mono, but he landed gracefully all the same. Without wasting a second, he pivoted and charged at the Thin Man - only to smack into the shut door. “Buhh,” he snorted, and fixed his hat. He tried pushing at the cracked panel, in case it wasn’t locked fast. Of course, the Thin Man learned from the last time, and the door handle was too high. Aside from the bucket inside the room, he couldn’t recall anything that might could be moved for him to stand on.

Last, he tried teleporting. That wasn’t gonna work, only because he’d worked hard and hadn’t gotten the chance for stop.

That sometimes that worried him, too. What if the Thin Man decided he wasn’t enough of same? Or decided Mono was wrong if he wasn’t good with the teleport. He dread too, what  if his own powers... stopped. The Thin Man might think to him like other kids, and not the best. Mono wouldn’t be the most important. He would be nothing, and he wouldn't be able to find the Thin Man.

He pushed away from the brittle slates of the doors base. The canister he left in the doorframe had tipped over when the door shut, so he moved it back over to the doorway. Then, he followed the long, tilted corridor, retracing his steps in the dust layers. None of the bulbs carried a steady glimmer, but the pasty hue did keep his toes from snagging on tangles of rotted carpet. He was tempted to try and make the static sing in the wires, and make the quiet bulbs coo with warm glows.

But the result was the same smoke and glass raining over his hat, and even inviting bulbs burst into nothing but wire and glass. He rather lay off that for a while.

Following with another scout of the rooms, he found that the place was just as he left it. No thumping, no horrible beasts or crawly critters (aside from the ones he could nibble) – it was the usual oppressive rooms and misty windows. That didn’t stop him from wandering around more and checking interesting things, like the contents of a crushed nightstand. He rifled through the pulverized contents, looking at a moldy rag and a shiny chain with polished glass in it. The Thin Man didn’t like glass or sparkling metal, and Mono was the same. He liked to look at shiny stuff, but that was about it. If it wasn’t a sturdy chain he could attach to a door or creature, or lower down to someplace too high for a leap, he didn’t need it.

One time he tried dragging a chain around, and swatting furniture with it. That activity didn't last, when he missed a mark and smashed the metal against his shin. He limped for a long while and was scared he would never get better. The bruise that formed was unlike anything he'd ever seen. After he recovered, he never swung anything around that wasn't a trusty hammer or sturdy pipe. 

In complete silence he roamed through the rooms, poking at this and that, wondering what this broken lump might’ve been, sometimes puzzling about faded pictures and the shapes in stained lumps of paper. If a particular crackling rippled through the steady lull, he was swift to duck into the nearest patch of shadow ad curl up. Usually nothing came of the sounds, and he was keen to dive into the stable portion of a room if the walls began to buckle. Rarely did some gurgling shape hunting for children, or just a kid, appear from the shy creaking. But Mono was so good at flee and hide, he never dredged up a creatures unwanted interest. He never let his guard down, even in rest.

One window in a detached room hung crooked in the wall, damp but not drenched through by the forever storms howling outside the cracked glass. The sill was for high to reach on his own, but the edge had cracked and serrated fibers sagged just an inch out of his reach. He used a shirt sleeve to snag the corner, then he could climb up and get a grip of the worn wood. He curled up in the corner of the window frame and tugged the tail of his coat around his knees.

In the back of his head, the soft tickle of static brushed his thoughts. Later, he would try and do more company with the Thin Man. It would take time before the man and his hat finished whatever scratch marks he put onto the pages, but he would to stop at some point. He always did. If Mono gave him quiet, the Thin Man might even let him see, and tell him about the marks. The stuff that the Thin Man did speek about must’ve had to do with the Eye and other things, like that door... the corridor, and the door, and other stuff Mono didn't... that happened way before. When he did pack with Ḩ̷͉̈́̐e̸̮̊r̵̦̜̋.̷̳̤̈́͌ The things he did understand, was it connected up with everything that put quiet think into the man in the hat.

The Thin Man wanted to share those stories with Mono, but the rambling fuss the Thin Man made about anything and everything never made sense when he meant for Mono to listen. He didn’t get Mono made speek in pictures, and didn't do the lines or the noises. Noisy children die. The only thing they left behind were stories about them, and the dangers that stole them. It happened to all kids, but it wouldn't happen to Mono.

He used the back of his fingernail to scrape away soft wood. The rain prattled at the remaining shards of glass, and the murky layers slathered the sill with fractured grays. Outside, the dark ravels bled through the sky, but its oily grasp melted through the clouds. In the knotted mesh of grays and silver, the timid flicker of windows gazed back like gaunt faces. He made an etch for each wayward flame lost in the storm. And did an outline of the chair. He included an egg, even if he didn’t like them that much – eggs were better than nothing. He added other marks, like a favorite hat he lost, a pack of children trapped in a bag. The cage. He kept carving, until a small section of the sill was covered in muddy sawdust and grooves or everything he had think about.

The Tower was out there. Even through the violent storm, the beacon and flat shape glided high in the sky. The blistering flare of the signal light pulsed, singeing the storm with its searing gaze. Beneath the fearsome light, stretched the sharp fringes of the structure… miles and miles of walls concealing the maze of doors and corridors and stairwells, days and days of backtracking, listening, and getting thrown into random rooms with ever misstep. He forgot how long he spent seeking, but he never forgot the strange shadows quivering beneath chunks of furniture - the horrid interior he climbed through forever to find H̶̺͐̿ĕ̶̜͔r̶̤̤͐.̴̙̞̚

And also… where S̷̠̔h̴͙̩̀͠e̶̤̮̽ tried for leave him.

Somewhere in tuning the televisions, he must’ve messed up. He did use televisions to make his way to the Tower way back then, but he never wanted to be near the Tower ever again. Not until he knew what to do, maybe not until he forgot H̶̺͐̿ĕ̶̜͔r̶̤͐ entirely. He would return to the Tower, he would make it all right, he would fix everything. He could do that. He had never given up.

There was a chance to fix everything. First, he had to be ready. He had to know his powers. His powers. Not whatever the Thin Man thought he could or couldn't do.

One time forever ago, he liked to look at the Tower whenever he had the chance. See it and think about what he would do, how he would figure something out for once rather than run away like always. Something would change this time, and it would make up for all the failing he did. The dream haunts would go away, he could stop the think about everyone he turned his back on. He was clever, and with Her they did many tricks. When it was them, then they escaped dangers that took other kids. She and him did it all on their own, had safe figured how puzzles worked. The Hunter was torn apart, he gave her a fish, they found shelter, he saved Her from fake children, they escaped the Teacher, he shared food things, they braved the Hospital, crushed hands, he took care of her wounds, they cooked the Doctor (the way monsters did the children).

Nothing could stop them. They were so much as pack, and could do anything in Togetherness!

He slipped off the sill and hurried to the doorway. Too many bad memories swarmed his head, he needed to write stories about them and put the pictures in his head somewhere else. But he didn't want to wander around anymore, not after all the places he was been, or with all the seeking he did catching up. HIs legs became noodles and his eyes blurred the gloomy surroundings. All he could do was curl up in the hall between a broken chair and a heap of clothing, and blend in with his surroundings. His head plopped onto his knees, drawn up to his chest. It was safest to be as small and uninteresting as possible.

Out there, the Tower was waiting. It expected him. Mono didn't know why he thought this, he more of felt it. The Tower remembered him in a way he didn't understand, and it expected him. If they stayed away from the televisions, it should be... okay. There was nothing to worry about, and nothing for do. The Thin Man didn’t need to know. If the man in the hat figured out where the Tower was, he might not trust Mono, or worse, go somewhere that Mono couldn’t follow. He didn’t know if that was possible, but most of all he didn’t want to scare the Thin Man. He didn’t want to admit he was scared too. He didn’t want the Thin Man to think he was a danger. He would always catch his Thin Man and keep, but what would he do if he accidentally hurt the man or his hat?

Next

__

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#little nightmares #lil nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #feral mono #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #mono being a good boy #protecting his tower man from danger #what could the thin man be working on? Hmmm? #detective thin man on the scene

[grim-faux]

2 _ 33 _ A Bend in the Road

First - An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

All the rooms and the corridors had taken several scouts. The larger room led to the corridors, and the corridors branched off to the separate rooms, and a kitchen area. He only sifted through the kitchen, but that was it. No dangers found a way into the rooms, not during his watch.

When his legs could no longer carry him, he curled up beside a wall and rested. Much of his time was dedicated to the scouting. It was important. Safe. He was always attuned to unfamiliar noises in the walls, and half-slept with one eye open, barely skimming over the membrane of unconsciousness. He was used to the dull air, absent of vibrancy and buzzing. The best sounds fled his thoughts, to the point he thought hearing was a mythical affliction.

These corridors and rooms were so different from the perpetual dark halls and broken rooms, sagging into each other. The windows seemed so… artificial, in a way he couldn’t decide. Behind the warped boards and broken glass, the world beyond was too bright. The acidic radiance burnt his eyes. But that was okay, he was getting used to it. He wasn’t a fan of traveling out in the open, without the assurance of shades or dark cloaks. Being able to see where he was and the walls surrounding, that was a plus.

On the rare occasions he didn’t roam around, he’d sit in one of the inner rooms and by the soft gleam of a bulb, go through his worldly possessions. He organized his hats, and usually traded one out. The weird picture speek of a face stayed folded into his coat, but he liked to take that out and give it a look. Though now, the entire surface had become damaged by water seepage. If he was lucky, his searching might reward him with crumbs wedged deep into his pockets.

Though he had too much to do, it was also fun to sit and do nothing, and see for how long he could be still. It was never fun uncoiling from the bubble of warmth he formed, but he was no stranger to severing those enticing threads. Then, it was back to his patrols.

He left his familiar marks on the walls, to make the place remember he was here. After adding so many stories, he felt like he was always here. He couldn’t remember if the Thin Man left him here, or if this was where Mono took shelter while he waited. Everything was confusing when the Thin Man wasn’t around, since he kept track of when the Thin Man came to visit and then left. That was always important, especially when he could follow the Thin Man. Sometimes he wanted to see an other child following the Thin Man, even if Mono was the only child to follow. In the quiet span of time while the windows tucked into dark hues, he thought a lot of the other children.

This building was not quite as tall as others he had stayed in. This was for a while, and he still had plenty of windows to climb out of if a creature came searching. From the larger room, the corridors led into the rooms with windows, and he rarely went to the rooms without windows – even if they were dry. Not many of them had bulbs or lamps that would work, and he had broken enough trying to practice his tricks.

When it wasn’t raining hard, he climbed onto the sill and wrapped his coat over his knees. From this height, he could still see the street below, and another street at the end intersecting. The Thin Man only wandered when it rained, but he was always eager to visit Mono. Sometimes he brought books and papers, he would sit in one of the rooms and scratch down marks. The Thin Man preferred flimsy pages.

Scratching picture speek onto walls was a child thing. For the bazillion time, the Thin Man was not a child.

One of the rooms on the other side of the dwelling was where the Thin Man hid away. He would be back, because he left some pages with his mark speek. It all meant nothing to Mono, but he liked to check the room in case the Thin Man was hiding very well.

He climbed from a chair and hopped to the edge of the table, which was slippery from dust and ash. Mono didn’t have anything to write on the papers with, aside from carving tools – he would never carve into the paper. Rather mess up the Thin Man’s marking, he liked to sit and trace his finger over the strikes and curves of the marks. A circle here. A slash there. He liked to think about the man in the hat so diligent and focused on the marks, while a stick with a smoky tail curled around his hat. The Thin Man looked so important, he had so much busy.

Mono had a lot of busy and work too. But the Thin Man’s stony focus was a different sort of busy. If Mono could get away with sitting on the tabletop for watch the Thin Man, he preferred that. Thing’s didn’t always go that way, and after a while the man in the hat’s focus would crumble away. He usually moved Mono out of the room and shut the door, or wrapped Mono into a blanket and shoved him into a drawer.

To remedy all this, Mono would be crafty and sit in a nearby corner. He could be very still like a shadow. Or he hid beneath the chair and watched the Thin Man’s heels. The shoes didn’t do anything, but the static was so steady and mingled nicely with the scratching on coarse papers. Or the flipping of pages.

One day Mono would figure out the mystery of mark speek. The man in the hat did not like pictures, but he liked marks. It would look amazing and the Thin Man would be impressed with how well he could imitate the marks.

Until that time, Mono slipped down onto the chair and curled up on the seat. Between the bars of the chairs back, he watched the ajar doorway and listened to the soft creaking in the walls. He was eager for the Thin Man to come and they could leave, because Mono had a mission. No matter what, he couldn’t leave the Thin Man behind.

__

The wind was not howling rabid or wild on this hour. The storm was nothing but glassy beads glittering across the tall thin man’s suit jacket and hat. With his head titled, the excess water sweeps of the hat rim, behind the silver pellets, eyes shimmer in the shadows of his face. He glared beyond the glossy veil, with a hand pressed to his lips; he drew in the warmth of smoke and held it in his chest.

In the distance, far beyond the hissing curtains and strumming wail droplets, the impervious monolith of the Signal Tower stands behind its picket line of loyal attendants.

Close. No longer a distance to ponder or agonize about reaching.

Below, the roads would be cleaved and divided into chasms, or caved out entirely into an eternal abyss littered with portions of buildings, and pieces of cities décor. He could imagine where such a gorge might lead, given the proximity to the Tower. However, he had banished all halls and door, which could led to the outside world. Only one door in or out, and it would only open for one single event – an anniversary of sorts. No other force or will could shift that entrance.

A thread of smoke trailed the man in the hat, when he tore his gaze from the unwavering stare of the Tower. He traced around the punctured wounds and collapse embedded in the rooftop of the building, before winking out of existence of the pummeling downpour.

In some obscure corridor, twisted and mangled by the lurch of the building fostering it, the Thin Man solidified with a piercing shriek. Immediately, the crisp click and ticking of his footfalls rebounded off the walls, overpowering the hollowed moaning of the foundation as the structure sagged in its moorings. Somewhere distant and muffled, the hokey laughter of a fictitious audience crashed through the bleak emptiness. He breezed by an open doorway, the bulb within the ceiling flashed against his bristling presence. In the eviscerated window, tattered curtains flap fiercely against another hammer of water. Across the floorboards, dust lifted and skipped across the broken body of some malformed creature bloated by the insufferable climate.

Another plume of smoke swelled forth from beneath the bill of the hat, as he chewed at the end of his smoke sti— cig. It was a cigarette.

Rooms shut tight and locked for decades, he opened effortlessly and bowed beneath the insufferably low doorframe. Clutter and boundless plains of rubbish coated the floors wall-to-wall, a testament of indifferent beings from a period of the world forgotten by time itself. The man in the hat sought pieces to a puzzle with no distinct picture, while the marks and pictures faded across discarded tomes offered no clear image, so as the inane purpose of his agenda. How kindred he was to these neglected dens, a practical existing in a world that ceased.

Perhaps, he mused, while seeking broken shelves littered with literature, the former denizens of the city had taken interest in something obscene. Of the mounds of pages packed into the floor, or books stacked to molder perpetually, he sought an inspiration in the last discarded pieces before the Viewers came to be.

As always he doubted, given how long (or undetermined and timeless as the cycle endured) that nothing which could have remembered, would have had its wits intact when the Signal Tower first unraveled its roots and penetrated the streets. Was is not possible that all which had once cared, was slain before the Signal Tower saw its opportunities? That dredged the question of the culprit, and the motivation? Was there one creature neglected in the city, which was spared for its role?

That would be a fools errand. A feeble speculation with no merit, aside from unbridled madness in his aimless pursuits.

Regardless, he shifted among the dwellings in glitching shadows, skipping away from open corridors of empty-nothing. He paid careful attention to rooms which faced the Signal Tower, in the distance, and those that reveled in violence on the walls and doorways. There was more to this acknowledgment than mere guess, since he took note of a higher frequency of varied means of self… ending.

A bathroom coated in brown flakes, the tub long drained but retained a stain. A tattered rope, then a chair in ab odd placement. Other evidence presented itself, of bizarre happenings that occurred before; of a ‘‘when’’ he couldn’t discern. The evidence remained, this was all he could conclude with his stinted understanding of that world. Of all the places which featured private disaster, nothing indicated to the why.

The tall thin man knew the why, naturally. But what was it the adults believed in? What did They see out the window?

Somewhere nearby, the jeering melody cackled from a television. The programs never changed, it was always the rehashed melodies and jokes performed to a sprawling cemetery. In the absence of—

The door to the next room repelled off its frame and crashed to the floor. Atop the lopsided panel, because it had fallen upon a shattered television, the Viewer rocked and clawed over the grainy wood.

The Thin Man dropped the thick binder he previously collected (among other curios), but he was promptly knocked backwards by the squealing creature.

What the Ť̷̩̲Ó̵̯̟W̸͈̃̚ͅȨ̷̕R̵̞̅?̸̣̽͛

This was odd. As of late, the Viewers had been more aggressive and becoming difficult to elude with the traditional means, but under usual circumstances a television sufficed for their withdrawals. This one was behaving in the most abnormal fashion. Not only that, the deranged thing was trying to crawl up his legs while he lay, stunned.

Despite being easy to avoid while aptly distracted, he never liked them. They were icky and creepy, and it was the worst when they were agitated and chasing him. Lifetimes ago, he could remember clearly racing through the icy waters of a dwelling flooded through. He knocked over a lamp and the unleashed current tore through the placid waters, sending sparks carving through the Viewer that had been hounding him.

Presently, the Thin Man collected his sense of place and time. The Viewer dug its weathered fingers at his stomach, using his jacket as anchorage to haul up onto its knees. It didn’t climb much further, the Thin Man shoved it backwards off his frame. While the Viewer tumbled across the floor (and collided with a wall) the Thin Man flashed, reappearing a meter or so more from his former position.

Static particles and crackling sparks sizzled across his grainy threads, as he went about straightening his jacket and smoothing a rumpled crease in his hat. He hummed to himself, irritated by the ravaged book lost in the scuffle. The loss was not great, the damage the tome suffered likely made it unreliable as a source. Still, he abhorred his things being tarnished.

With a wet gargle, the Viewer launched at him. The arms flopped at its knees, its crooked and mangled face flashing with signal distortions and jiggling.

When it reached him, the Thin Man snared it by the shoulders and whipped around. He shoved the flailing adult at a blank wall, but when the Viewer smashed into the impervious surface, the timber and plaster burst into clumps of powder. The Viewer crashed into the next room but kept going, rolling reminiscent of a rabid log across the cluttered room and bounding through another wall. Beyond the next barrier lay nothing but lashing rain and spiraling mist. The debris of partially vaporized metal and wood formed a miniature cyclone around the spinning Viewer, before it plunged out of sight. The grotesque shriek faded out, to be replaced by the soothing prattling of droplets on freshly exposed floorboards.

The Thin Man rewound into his prim and proper posture, giving his sleeves a brisk dusting. He preferred not getting involved with the Denizens of the Signal, but such confrontation was… aberrant. More bizarre than his own existence, (er, outside of the Tower). This was not the first event he dealt with. The first account of a Viewer mowing him over went dismissed as a fluke – the creatures being neither graceful or practical in their pursuits.

If no television was immediately accessible, Viewers typically sought escapism in trivial things – typically noises, bright lights, or other drastic changes in their environment. Such as small nuisances.

The door that the Viewer smashed down, actually led into the room where the Viewer went tumbling through as well. Over on a desk, the television caroled with cheerful tunes, the images behind the static fluttered with exaggerated animations of stiff caricatures and a parody of bliss.

This was a matter of concern. However, not as concerning as the sounds the buildings was now chattering with. The walls of the room, and the shredded portal where the Viewer toppled out of, growled with a hideous threat. The buckled paneling up and down began fraying, silt rained from the ceiling and functioning lights began to sputter out. Like thread splinting on a worn rope, bits of tinder and fibrous wood flung loose, the floor beneath his shoes began to roll and arch. The floor cracked and a portion sunk downward, dipping out of view.

The Thin Man raised his arms, but thought better of this redundant action. He doubted the boy would be nearby. Instead, he removed himself from the location entirely, and relocated.

From his new vantage point, a window directly across from the crumbling titan, the Thin Man stood impartial but observing. As the skyrise lost fortitude and came undone, he stood behind one of the long windowpanes. Most of the glass had shattered out of the frame, some remnants lay glittering upon the moldy carpet. This was not far from the building, nonetheless, he held no concerns.

The construct seemed to disintegrate, the cement walls dispersed as a fine dust while bars of metal and timber churned within the mishmash of mortar. A fierce sigh rushed across the windows, misting them with the ash of the fallen monolith. Suddenly, the building was no more, a gaping wound swirled in the dust rising in absence of a mighty sentinel. The mottled patterns of dust washed across the nearest buildings, the layers of soot bled and run away, forming tear tracks across the windows and ruined slabs of brick.

The Thin Man reached for the cigarette at his lips, but found the end obliterated in his confrontation with the Viewer. With a clean sigh, he flicked the stub away. The windows still vibrated with the memory of the fall, even after the tall thin man dissolved from the gloomy passage.

This arbitrary collision with a denizen of the signal does not leave his thoughts altogether, but he struggled not to ponder it too deeply. He was no stranger to the irrational bursts of the Viewers, even with a blasting television with the most enticing melodies, the beings could be distracted by something else. Though that was rare, and typically a trait unique to one Viewer.

However, these ponderings waned as his own focus drilled into other pursuits. The general layout of a putrescent city, the way the skewered roads snapped or curved and became swallowed within the ribcage of a fallen skyrise. If he could manage, he would prefer avoiding a route through the doors of a looming structure – with far too many corridors.

__

Nothing in particular stood out when he returned to the dwelling, where the boy had hidden as of late. He barely flashed from the lower floor, to the doorway of the residence, and glitched into the living area in a sizzling-pop.

He could not fathom why the boy lurked here. The structure itself was more decrypt, the floors ruptured in places, the furniture ruined, and tattered scraps of clothing discarded. As ever and always, he puzzled over the castoffs and the meaning.

While stepping past a crate, he nudged it with his shoes. Some insects evacuated the shelter. The Broadcast did not afford him unlimited insight into the past and once ways of the world; by his understanding, it could not resurrect a dead history. Instead, it recreated something, and offered that illusion to the gullible Viewers. Much of what he inherited came from the delusions of a dream, with only a vague grasp of snippets with no context and no meaning. The city languished, encrusted by the relics of a forgotten population. For a time, Denizens of the Signal struggled to maintain that lifestyle discarded by their ancestors, though, they could not hold the illusion for long. After the late events, he doubted they had illusions to throw themselves into.

The shared transmission cued him onto the child’s location. Along the way to the other rooms, in the opposite direction of the living space. He leaned down to peer into the room, and decide how to go about avoiding the kid.

Thankfully, something had nailed down the kid’s focus. He grimaced at the savagery the child undertook for the sake of gnawing out chunks. A genuine beast, no redeeming, and completely—

What was he chewing on?

The Thin Man inched into the room, his head struggling to grapple with what he already suspected, and his thoughts brawling against the horrific truth. It could not possibly be, but waging war with the fact was counterproductive.

His shadow draped over the boy, and with a choked grumble the child launched into a random direction. With the cigarette stub clutched in his arms. This could be the answer to why the boy was an unhinged brute.

“N̶̘̕Õ̴͜!̷̤͌ ̴͉̈ T̵͔̃h̶̩̓a̴͙͌t̸̫͒ ̵̢͗ I̷̭̎s̸͈̓ ̶̮͐ Ń̸̲o̸̳̚t̶̜̑ ̸̤̔ F̸̮̏o̵͕͊ỏ̴̺d̷͈̈!̶̱̌” He lunged for the boy, missing when his target zipped off the tables surface. A swift flick of his wrist sent the table sailing, opening a clear path to the child. The boy tore into another direction, the hat he wore was tucked low over his eyes as the child bounced across gaps in the floor panels. “N̴͕͝Ỏ̴̬!̵̨̃ ̶̖̂ N̵̗͆o̷̱͐N̶̺̍o̴̪̓N̷͙̎O̵̜͂N̷̺͠O̵̩̒Ń̵̤O̶̗̅!̵̯̎ ̵͈͊ M̶̨̈́O̷̢̿N̷̠̎Õ̶̪!̶͍͑”

The brat ducked behind a collapsing desk, but no sooner was the child out of sight did the man in the hat swing his arm back. “S̸̰͝t̶̮̄ȍ̷̭ṕ̶̝ ̴̟͒ R̵͓̂i̴̛̦g̸̭̾h̸̝̅ṭ̸͊ ̸̙̊ Ṫ̵͈h̷̹͋e̸̻͋r̴͓͝ë̷͕́!̶͕̑” This infuriating beast shot in another direction, while trying to tear into the stub more than ever!

In a glittery flash he arched above the boy, limbs canopied outward – well, his arms. “S̸̱̍t̸̙̊ö̷͉́p̶͉̂!̴̢́ ̴̪͛  D̵͓̀r̵̀͜o̷̗̊p̷̖̉ ̴͓̚ I̷͔̍T̷̙̕!̵͠ͅ ̴̥͛ S̴̬͑T̶́͜Ǫ̷̓P̸̣̊ ̸̥̄ M̸̳̌O̶͙̅V̵̮͘I̷̭̐N̴͚̓G̶̰̈!̴̗̔”

Th boy generated a half-bark and smothered whines, as he ricocheted between his palms, but before getting seized the child managed to roll away. This idiot mongrel! Ẅ̴̥́a̸͎̚s̸̥̄!  N̵̔͜O̷̩̓T̷͎̄ ̵̲͆  E̴̺̎v̴̮̅e̶̦̕ņ̶͐ utilizing his lackluster abilities!

When the child made a bolt for the doorway, the Thin Man managed to snag the boy around his leg in a full-bodied lunge. And finally! The child relinquished his iron hold on his ‘prize’. The Thin Man reeled his long body back and rose to his knees; he fortified his grip and gave the child a hasty examination.

“W̸̢͘h̴̛͖y̵͉͗ ̴̰͂ A̷͇̔r̷̛ͅȇ̷̖ ̷͉̎ Ỳ̸̭o̶̢͝U̶̾͜ ̴̧͛ L̶̔͜i̶̢̒k̸̪̃E̸̙͐ ̵̗͐ T̶̹̽ḧ̴̫́i̸̝͛Š̴̭?̴̘̿ ̵̩̂ W̸̹͛Ḧ̴ͅỴ̶͛ ̷̠̾ Ǎ̵͉R̸̂͜Ḛ̵́ ̸͔͌ Ý̴̞Õ̸͕U̴͓̎ ̴̘̽ L̷̲͐Ĩ̷͙K̶͎͝E̶͙͗ ̵͚̐ T̶͕̄H̴̛̤I̵̻̿S̵̜̚!̸̯̒” Answers would not be a priority. His thoughts sank into how much did the boy eat? Oh Eye, how much did he Ë̸̮̼Ả̸͚̓͘T̴̢̘̃̑?̸͎̹̠͌͛̽͘  He would rather not fixate on the temptation, but instead gaped at the soot-stained face blinking up at him. Ĥ̸̰̝̝̇̈́o̸͔̎W̴͍̗̯͍̐͗ ̶̛̭̼̽ M̸̧̛̮͈̀̂u̷̢̺̦̹͎͋͂͠c̴̞͎͂̿̃Ḩ̴̡͓̰̿̒̚?̶̣̜͛

“S̸̠͝p̴͓̎i̴̱͐Ť̴̞!̴̠̏  A̵̡͌l̴̨͌l̶͚̕ ̵̦̄ O̷̤̔f̶͈̚ ̵̓͜ I̶̺̓ṭ̴̅!̴͉̂ ̵̦̔ G̷̫̽o̵̢͐ ̵͈͒ Ó̸̝N̸̮̿!̷̞̾” The boy mewled as he crushed his face in his fingers. “A̵͓̒L̷̟̈L̷͙̀ ̷͒ͅ Ò̴̦F̶̖̀ ̴̻͋ Ḯ̵̥T̵͔͒!̸͙̈” But Ĥ̸̰̝̝̇̈́o̸͔̎W̴͍̗̯͍̐͗ ̶̛̭̼̽ M̸̧̛̮͈̀̂u̷̢̺̦̹͎͋͂͠c̴̞͎͂̿̃Ḩ̴̡͓̰̿̒̚ did he Ś̸̱w̶̻͝à̵̢ḻ̸̔l̴̲̂o̵͕͌w̴̹͐?̶͇̑  He tightened his hands around the boy’s middle, trying to decide how to do this. Children vomited when they became ill from consuming toxins (it was very common), but if they did not purge enough poisons, and not soon… . Was there a way to induce vomiting in a child before it fell ill? Before all was lost!?

The child expelled the most repulsive noise when squeezed around the middle, but not nearly enough physical matter. “C̵͙̈́o̵͖͝u̵̹͝g̶̨̍ḧ̴̹ ̷̭͝ I̸͓͊ẗ̶͎́ ̸̹̈́ U̴̥̽p̸̘̐!̵͙͝ ̸͔͒ Y̴̧͌o̴̼̎ų̵̊ ̵̟͆ D̷̺̓o̵̧͗  ̵̰̍N̴̡͘O̷̬̎T̴͖̔ ̸̻̔ E̵̥̋ä̷̹t̷͙̏ ̷͎̀ T̶̻̀h̷̲͝a̴̛͔t̶̨̓!̸̢͋  N̵͎̿̒͊͘͝ͅO̶͓̠̰̟̒̆̚!̶̢̛͍̹̤̺̟͋̐̊̆” He had not ‘eaten’ in decades. For the existence of him, he could not recall what the last edible was that he could stomach. I̸͚͐̋ț̵͌͘ ̴̬͇̅̈́ C̵̗͈̈͂ḙ̵̛̕r̵͕̈́́t̸̳̭̽͝a̵̛̫î̵̥͋n̸͓͋̄l̶͓̖̂y̵̡̅ ̴̧̣͌̕  W̸̟̳̿a̴̯̔s̵̨̛̝͝ ̶̓͜ N̸̼͆͒ō̷̡t̸̜̄ ̵͔̂ A̶͇̖̎̃ ̶͚͎̈́ D̴̗̈́́a̶̪͑̾m̸̥̔͑n̵̼͉͊ ̷̹̈̑ C̵̟̑i̴͚̖͊g̷̺̚a̵͇̼̒r̵̬̦͛͘e̵̢̳̊t̸͕̘̅̈t̸͚̞̃e̶̗̓̀!̵̖̯͐̎ Though the child hung like a frayed rag in his hands, the body shook and convulsed with each squeeze. “K̶̩̟̂̅ë̴̹́e̵̛͔͆P̴͚̅ ̶̠̫̽̕ G̸͙̗̈́ó̸͇i̶̧̔͝n̷̼͂̀ͅG̶̰̓̎!̵̣͉͆ ̵͚̰̕ T̴̖̹́ḩ̵̩̓̋a̸̹͌T̴̰͋ ̶̳̯̓ Ȋ̸͍s̴̯̣͋͌ ̶͉̦̈̌ N̸̠̅ö̴̭̦T̵͓͑ ̶̳́̎ A̵̬̒̈l̵̪͗̾L̸̓ͅ ̸̘̓ Ö̶͎̩f̸̧̈́͘ ̸̲̅̓ Í̵͖̖͠ţ̸̤̊̈́!̵̗̀̏” To be honest, he had no idea how much the child had choked down. One of two things would kill the boy, it was best to be certain.

“F̴̡͌o̴͍̽ö̷͓́ḏ̸͐,” the boy gargled. Between Tower-awful retches. “Tuh food—” He broke into hacking and wheezes, punctuated by disgusting black sludge.

“Y̸̭̟͛͗o̶̹̒u̸̬̚ ̸̡̌͌ D̶̼͗̏o̸̺̾ ̶̞̔ N̶̪̑ö̶̤͓́͝t̴̠̃  ̸̤͉̅E̶͉̺͌a̴̝̋T̵̠̒̀ ̵̱̀͛ T̷̠͝h̴͇̥̐̆ă̸͚̓T̸̘̥̾́!̵̗͑ ̵̖̌ Į̸͈̊t̴̢̻̍͝ ̷̙͓̀ I̷̡̐ṣ̸̈̒ͅ ̸̦̓ N̷̡͚͋̊ǒ̷̡͈Ť̷̼̘̀ ̶̰̫̀͝ F̵̧̒̊Ȯ̴̗̰O̵̹̹̍D̴̳͔͊́!̵̰̏” It did not appear more was coming up, aside from bile and some brown… he was afraid to dwell. He did try to coerce further contents up, but it seemed that was everything of peril.

The static crowded the small room, and threatened to ignite the only bulb dangling center above his hat. The child’s own hat had gone scarce, and the body trembled in his palms. This idiot boy. He was so intent on dying and destroying them both, not that he would have enduring issue beyond the deed. He could not leave this child to his own devices, without the boy demolishing something. Eating some… Ǧ̶̭͖̜̫̿͂̎̌Ą̷̛̺̳̟̮͇̏R̷̛̜̯̟͇̄͋̐̅̇͗́B̴̫͉̫̯̦̗̎Á̶̜̹̱͔̝͚͘G̴̛̗͇̖͖̗̔̎É̶͎̰̘͛̏̔͆̄͑͝!̷̦͓̥̀ right off the ground.

Once his nerves had settled a smidgen, he rolled the child over on his palm. “Ň̴͜o̸̢͋T̴͒ͅ ̷̠̚  F̷̫́ò̵̬o̴̩̍D̷͕͛!̴͔̎ ̷̛̰  D̴̮́ő̴̧ ̵̤̈  Y̸̜͝o̸̲̅u̵̜̎ ̸̗̓  F̸͐͜O̴̤̽L̴͎̍L̵̮͒Ȯ̸̘W̵̌͜?̴̨͊ ̷͍̉  Ṫ̴͜h̵͎̉a̸̲͊T̸͓͝ ̵̫͘  W̵̫͝i̴̦͘l̸͕̔Ḻ̸͘ ̶̓ͅ  M̷̮̂a̷͉͂k̶͙̂Ê̷̗ ̵͍͂  Ÿ̴̙́ö̶̧́U̷̙̽ ̷̝̈́  S̵͙̾i̶͈͌c̶͉̑K̷̹̏!̸̘͆” The boy did his best to stare, one eye slanted and his face fouled from vomit.

The boy mumbled and tried to curl down behind his arms.

“NONO! L̸̫̆o̸̝͝o̶̪͑Ǩ̷̡ ̶̺̀ Ḁ̸͌t̷͚̀ ̵͍́ M̵̧̋e̵̠͠!̴̯̀ ̶̛̞ T̸͈͊e̷̱̊L̵̟͐L̷̮͐ ̵͇̂ M̵̢͠ȩ̸̓!̶̟͊ You understand!” He brushed the arms off the face. “Look at me! Ţ̸̓h̴̺͐a̴̩̒T̶͍̂ ̸̨̚  I̶͎̚s̵̖̊ ̷̱̏  Ń̵͕ỏ̶̝Ṱ̵͐ ̵̮̅  G̸̭̾ǫ̷̐ó̵̢Ḏ̸͠ ̷̥́  F̵̤̊o̵͚͒R̴̰̆ ̸̪̆  Y̸͕͌ǫ̸͛U̴̗͑!̵̡̄ ”

The boy wheezed. “Y’eat.”

“Ỉ̸͜ ̸̰̄ D̵̪̒Ọ̸͆ ̴͕̾ N̶̲̋Ŏ̶̭T̵͖̓ ̶̪̾ E̴̥̋A̷̞̒Ṯ̵́ ̷͚̽ T̶̓ͅH̵̱͑Ă̷̮Ṫ̸̟.̸̫̚  N̷͙̊͌E̵̢̋V̴͈̆É̷̬̑R̶̢͓͒!̷̟̹̃͂  A̵̬̰̓̃m̶͙̳̽̃ ̶̪̟̚ I̶̡̽ ̸̀͜ Ǵ̴̫̟̕ẹ̷̆̓ͅt̷̟͌̑t̶͍͘ỉ̶̥͚n̵̰͠G̵̔ͅ ̵̞̂ T̷̰̈́͝ͅh̷̲̪̅̓ŕ̷̜ò̴̼u̶̮͗͝g̵̤͒͛H̴̨̬̿̔ ̶̗̅ T̵̢̳͘o̶̡͗̑ ̵͎̼̃ Y̶̌̆͜ọ̶̀͑Ụ̷͔̄͋!̴̨̋͑  Tell me! Do your speek!” The child stayed frustrating and uncooperative. A lump of skin in coat in the idea of a child. He gave the boy a shake. “What do I want from Y̸̡̩̙̣̥̹͊́̆́̊͆ô̷͍͕͌̂͑U̷̙̓̀̇!̸̻̺̉̏ Make that S̷̗͈̎͛͠p̶̘̱̈́̃ê̴̮͎e̵̢͚̯̘͕̎K̸̡͈̻̝̝͍͐̇! You know how to D̴̤̙̑o̶̭̼̓̕ ̶̩͎̀ T̷̤̰̉͑h̵͍̓͒i̴̗̠̽̏S̵͈̝̆!̷̖̞́̔  Y̸̪̦̕Ŏ̵̼U̷̡̻̐͌ ̶͖̏̇ K̵̃͜N̴̤̄̇O̷̪̭̊Ẃ̴͙̞̌!̸̼̅͠ͅ ̴̜͘  Y̸̟̆͠O̴͍̦̊U̴̙̕ ̴̡̿̊  K̵͙͔͊̏N̴̯̈́O̴͈͛̈́͜W̵̨̛̍ ̵͙̬̎͌  W̸͎͒͠H̷̖͂ͅÃ̵̺̬̏T̴̛̘ ̸̻͊̉͜  I̶̤͝͠ ̵̩͌͐  A̵͔͌̀S̵̜̎K̷͖̻͗!̶̠̾͠” The boy stole a breath,

“...ᵒᵏᵃʸ...”

Why was he so D̸̓̄̌͌͂̍͜i̷̧̱͎͙̱̺̔f̵̜͙̥̪̖͕̾͗̀̊ḟ̵̩̍̔̌̽̐͠i̷̗̲͈͍̗͆̄͂̄c̶͍̳̹̼͔̮̀̓̌ư̵̺̦̘̄͐̏̓̊l̸̯̙͍̟̝̠̥͗t̶̢̨̛̬͔̫̉̓͋̉̍͐͜?̸̻̫̘̑

“N̶̲̩̦̭̳̽̈͂̂͋Ò̷̻̣̠͎̳͛!̵̣͒̌  S̵̞̔a̶̗͊y̶̚ͅ,̵̤̌ ̵̖̈́  ‘̷̲̅I̶̯͊ ̴̼̅ U̷̝͐ń̸̻d̶̮̐ȩ̴͂r̴͛͜S̴̫̽t̸̡͝a̸͇͝ṇ̸̋D̸̡̍’̶̙͊.̷̜̕  ̸̟͝ Ṯ̶͆h̵͙̉a̶̙̍t̵̗̆ ̸͕̓  Ş̶́p̸̳͠ȅ̴̟ȇ̷̟ḱ̴͉!̵̜̐ ̴͖̿  T̸͇͂e̶̲͌l̸̪̈́l̸̺̀ ̵̓͜  M̶̫̆ẽ̷ͅ ̷̹̾  Y̴̰͠ö̸͍́ù̶̺ ̸͎̓  W̴̹͘ȋ̷͉l̷̜̋l̴̼̚ ̷̮̊  N̴̯̔Ë̸̞́V̴͎̊E̴͚͠R̸̙͝ ̶̟̾  D̷̢͒o̷̙̔ ̷͈͌  T̵̥͝h̵̏ͅa̷̰͝t̴̔ͅ ̶͖̐  A̴͍͘g̸̡̚a̵̪͝í̶̮ṉ̴̔!̸̠̏ ̴̺̀ I̸̩̔ ̵̭̔ W̴͚̕a̸͖͘ṋ̵̇t̶͈̄ ̴̪͗  T̸͈͊o̵̖͋ ̴̬̌  Ȟ̶̨ẻ̵͕ȃ̶̡r̵̫̄ ̴͜͝  T̷͙͋ḥ̶͊a̷͉͗ṯ̵͊ ̷͖̂  F̸̳͑r̸͕̉ȏ̷͇m̵̪̈́  Y̴̛͉̱͂̚͠Ǫ̵͚̣̯͋̐̽͝Ư̵̧͇͍͙͑̚͝͝!̶̯͚̜͋͐̏͘͝” At last, the child began squirming.

“Down. Lemme… un’hurt.”

He fortified his grip and brought the boy closer to his eyes. “Not until you M̶̤̈́a̴̦͒k̸̤͒e̴̜͂ ̶͓̮̃ T̵͖̗̈́h̵̢̀͜a̴̠̖͋t̷̘̅̚ ̵̩̊ S̷̢̩̑̃p̸͉̬͂̀ẻ̵̮͙ḙ̷̼͐͊ḱ̸͇.̴̠͚͐ I am not hurting you.” He pinned the boys arms down. “I am A̷̪͓̿ș̶̓͜k̵̤̣͑i̸͙̾n̵͖̐g̶͍͂͒ ̸͊͜ F̷̞̹̎o̴̙͗́r̸̨̅̃ a response, boy. You will not C̸̥̽ó̸̮͍̓m̴̛͓͍p̷̣̆l̶̝̤͝í̶̯̻c̶̼̅â̶̱̝t̷̼͔͠E̷͈͆͛ ̷̯̇  T̸̢̘̒͝h̸̟̫̊͌ị̵͍̇̑S̵̰͝.̸̼͗̈́” He could not relent, or the child would go and do it all over. Had the child been eating the stubs? If so, what else was this boy E̴̩̣̓ả̴̬͝ͅt̵̠̏i̶̳͑ͅn̷̦̍͗ͅḡ̸̜̖ while unsupervised. That was most troublesome to confront. He was about to interrogate further, but the child was burbling his noises. Clumsy, as ever.

“Eh’kay. Er… n’der-stan. S’at. Und-Ehh…ahh’sand. T’at. Y’on’t Wah’do  ah‘gain. No. NoNo. Un’sand. Ah…stand. No.”

The Thin Man watched the child intently, debating if he should pursue his other suspicions and excavate the truth. That did not seem so important, while he observed the boy and listened to his gruff mutterings repeated verbosely. No. From here on, he would keep closer track of the child’s habits. He exhaled, and rubbed a thumb over the boy’s shoulder.

“That will do.” The twitchiness he could excuse, this time. The boy did not comply with his demands, aside from appeasing him. “You will not B̷̼̙͆e̵̖̮̓̿ ̴͎̼̄̅ N̵̤͖̊̀a̵̙̕̕u̵͔̜̕g̶͈̐h̷̳̬̀t̸̺̄̓ý̶͍͚́ and do that again? S̸͍̎c̶̨̛r̴̪̀ą̶͊t̶̰̆ç̵̐ĥ̷̤  ̸̧͐A̷̗̒r̴̹͊o̵̪͋u̵͇͌n̸̯͊ḏ̸͗ ̷̢̈́ A̵͕̕n̷͙̒d̷̊ͅ E̸̡͐â̸̡t̸͂́͜ ̸̙̽  F̵̊ͅi̶͎͇̒l̶̤̀̾ͅt̶̩͈̉h̴̙͓̕ ̴̦̓  A̷̩̒n̷̞͕̈̇d̶̪̩̀ ̴̜̟̂  R̸̫̮̆ṵ̶̖̾b̷̡̢͆b̶͇̭̀͝i̷̥̤̎ṡ̶̜͌ḧ̵͇̟́̀ ̶̐͜ ? T̶͍̊ͅh̸̻̓ǎ̸̪͜ẗ̸̮́ ̷̞͐̽ W̴̠̠̍̊i̷̔͝ͅl̴̢̅͝ľ̷̜̥̂ ̴̹̓͌  M̵̨̪̂a̷̡̭̐͆k̷͕̀̏ê̷̙̔ ̸̤͉̎̿  Y̶̱̬͐̓ô̶͉̻u̸̺̞̒ ̷̺̚  Ì̷̼l̸͊̍͜l̸̙̒͘.” The boy was back to his guarded silence. Very well. “That is not good for you. Do I Ṃ̷̐a̴̝̿k̶̖͝e̶̤͘  ̶̞̞͊̀ M̴̙̼͒y̵̗̍s̷̙̀̈́e̵̥̮͌̄l̸̏͊ͅf̵̙̃͐ ̴́̒ͅ  C̴͙͖̀͘l̷̖̥͌e̶̱̕ͅå̸̼̜r̴̦͍̓̽?̵̢͙̋”

The boy still shivered between his palms, and he looked more ashen than usual. Only time would tell whether this interference had been enough, or if any of his pursuit would amount to anything more than a repeat of this crisis. All he had was time. All the time in the….

With a hasty glimmer, he returned to a normal stance and shimmered within a ripple of static. A dull pop greeted his displacement, upon arriving within the archway of the kitchen. He kicked aside wrappers and containers on his way to the sink. Wisps of crackling static snapped drawer doors open, while his free hand rummaged for essential supplies - despite the abundance of cutlery or odd items meant for meal prep, among rows of junk. At last he a hovel of rags sprouted from a musty slot and stole one up. A curl of glittery sparks dealt with the handle of the tap, and greasy a trickle began in the stained basin. The hand gripping the towel tapped at the countertop, as he waited for the sludge to clear out.

Throughout this, the boy remained passive in his grip, even as he set him on the counter. After all the erratic disasters of the child just zooming off despite a need for examination, the Thin Man kept his grip latched on the boy’s middle. Should the child need an activity, he set a spare rag on the spindly legs. Once the water from the faucet cleared, he dunked the rag into the stream and began wringing – one handed. With the fabric dampened, he began brushing off the dry soot from the coat, and soaking the child’s greasy face. The little mongrel was complicit, likely biding for the desired opportune moment to launch. Not on his watch. He scrubbed some of the dirt and black streaks out of the hair, then worked a bit on the face when the grime at last began to melt. This was going very well. He could even ignore the eyes gaping at him, if he moved the boys head and concealed the pale face with a thumb.

“Mm,” the voice croaked, as he worked to soak some of the stains embedded in his backside. “Do… n’like. Am’eh?”

Once more, what the Tower?

“Mmm?” He tried to push the face away and focus on some of the more stubborn discoloration, like the B̴̮̈́l̴͉̰̄ö̵̼͝o̴̪̹͐̽d̶̝͒ on the sleeves. Despite his efforts, the boy managed to glimpse him. He subverted the issue by rotating the child around, and focused on the grease embedded in the coat. How in the Eye was it possible to be more grunge than fiber?

“Like’am. Do like to am? Mono? Like am... does like'am? I am Mono.” The Thin Man puzzled over the butchered phrasing. Ah.

“Do I… like you?” The boy tried to glance over his shoulder and nod. Hmm. “No. Not particularly. Why?” He rinsed the rag out of black gruel. Yuck. The boy needed proper cleaning, but he was not enthused by the prospect and all the drama that would entail. “What gave you an idea like that?” A minor squelch of static cut the tap off, and he resumed dabbing at the coat.

The boy shrugged. Predictable. What reason did the child have for strange ideas? Children did not reflect on much beyond their own world. All of the boy’s ambitions came from a self-serving mindset. That is why he and this child languished in such a stalemate. The child managed to release the man in the hat, but faltered at the brink of satisfying his purpose.

“There is much to discover in this world, Á̵͎n̸̝͗d̷͙̔ ̶̬̅ Ö̵̺́f̷̧̈́ ̸̣̐ Y̴͇̎ȍ̷̝ṳ̵͆r̶̢̚ ̶̣̚ P̷̹̆l̶̫͘a̷͕̓c̴̳̃e̷̝̎m̷͕̉ẹ̶͆n̶̺̿t̴̠̽.̴̡͂” He wiped the dirt stains off the hands and examined each of the fingers. Who would have known there was a whole child under all that gunk? “And no one T̵̨̟̍̀ö̴͚̚  ̶̤͇̔̀ G̵̛̣u̸͇̖͑̍i̵͕͐̚ͅd̷̨͇̂̓e̸̯̰͆ ̶͓̝̎ Y̵̥͑̓ŏ̷̪̠͝ṷ̶́.̸̧̝̍”

Once upon a time, he thought all the answers he wanted would come, if he managed to seize the catalyst of all his problems. What he did not know was that he was still on the other side of the door, awaiting a peek within.

“You believe you are deserving of something more. Ỉ̸̭ŝ̵͜ ̵͈͠  T̶͚̐h̷̟͒a̷̤̓ţ̴͗   ̴̧́Ï̸̝ṱ̵̈́?̴͕̊” He tried to think of the districts he wandered, of what he sought in those oppressive roads and empty buildings. What did he see when gazing into the skyline, and the Signal Tower glared back? He was angry and lost and alone, just like the child he was before the Tower accepted him. As it were, took him back. His prison and the sanctuary of his melancholy.

The boy squirmed around in his grip, until he was fully twisted around and staring at him. And hugging the rag left on his knees. Most of the quivering had dispelled, though the boy would forever be jittery. Nothing would ever rehabilitate such imprinted instincts.

“I said a lot to you, didn’t I?” He rung the rag one final time and soaked at the shadowed-haze lingering over the strange little eyes. “Something about ‘undoing crimes and make amends’, hmm? S̴͕̔o̷̦͝m̴̜̽ë̵̗ ̵̯͆ T̵̛̮h̴̟̀ị̵̏ṉ̶̛g̸͉͊s̴̗̎ ̸̩͐ N̷͍̈ė̵͖v̶͇̆è̸͕r̷͈͒ ̸̮̀ C̸̮͠h̵̨̛a̵͚͌n̶̠̚g̶̢͒e̸̛ͅ.̴̖͝ ̸̅ͅ  H̷̬͘e̴̅͜h̸̦̽-̸̨̋h̷͈͂ę̶͗h̴͍͠.̸̳̎” The boy leaned into his palm and shut his eyes. “Alas, that is not who I am. This is not O̷̩̚ư̴͓r̷̲̎ ̴͉̈́  R̵̢̓o̷͚̾l̴̊͜ĕ̶͔ ̷̯͋  I̷̖͒n̸͕̽ ̴̟̍  Ț̶͘h̶̳̋ì̸̺s̴͙̍ ̶̞̕  W̸̬̊o̷̩̚r̵̛̘l̸͖̐d̶͓̃.̶̘́ Everything…. All of it Ḯ̶͉ṡ̴͚ ̵͇̈́ P̶̙̀o̸͇͐ì̴̻n̸̹͐t̸́ͅl̵̠̑ĕ̶͇ṣ̸͘ș̷̽.̷̛̤” He chucked the damp rag into the bottom of the sink, prompting the boy to wince and blink up at him.

“We are not meant for this.”

“R’not to company?” The Thin Man frowned, but carefully rubbed the back of the boys head.

“You are... not really company. The way you are... you are not right. That will all be amended, and you will have your world back. T̷̢̚h̷̘͘ȩ̶̚ ̸̩̓ W̸͕̓a̷̻͌y̶̥̓ it was meant Ṫ̷̹o̸̹̓ ̶͓͗ P̷̩͑l̵̡͘a̶̻͒y̶̠͗ ̷͎̔ O̷͙͂u̴̖͆t̸̗̏.̷̬̃  T̶̫̅h̷̫͘ḯ̵̗ŝ̶͓ ̷͇̈ I̴͓̾s̴̯͛ all an E̷̗̋l̶͉̽a̵̾͜b̶̛͔ȯ̸̢r̶̹͌ḁ̷́t̵͍̀ḙ̶̑  ̷̪̋G̵̥͂a̴̓ͅm̷͚̕è̵̡, wherein we A̶̻͝r̴͈͒ȅ̵̹ ̷̳̀ Ť̵̳h̴͍́e̸̳͘ ̴̝͆ P̸͚̈a̷͗͜w̵̠͛n̴̗̑s̷̲̀, and very little agency to Ā̷̖l̸̨̒t̸̼͝e̵̛͇r̶̢̔ ̶͉̏ T̵̺͠h̷͖̑e̸̤͑ ̴̲̓ E̸͙̊v̸̬̓e̷̬͑n̴͖̓t̴̗̎ṷ̷̈́a̷̼̔l̵̖̅s̴̪͆ of D̶͚̏ę̸̛s̴̻̎t̴̳̑í̷̯n̵̘̆ȳ̵͍.̷͙̀” A miniscule huff flexed between his fingers. No denying he had nothing worth giving the boy, but the child would have to live with disappointments. Such as his self.

“It is beyond what you can comprehend, but it will reach you later.” He patted the boy on his back. “Much later, but all the same. Yours. Then all your questions will be answered, and you will know more than you E̵̻͗v̴̹͠ë̶̬́r̴͚̓ ̵̞̈́ Ć̴͈ä̸͔́r̶͓̀e̵͖̐d̴̼̊ ̴̰́ T̶͔̍o̴̠͗.̸̹̕ Perhaps, more than you C̸͖͆ó̴͔u̷̻̒ḽ̷̈d̶̙͆ ̸̜̔ Ĥ̴͓á̶̺v̵͉̉e̷̖̾ ̷̳̚ P̷̜̕r̵̥̋é̸̳p̵͍̀a̴̡̕r̷͓͠e̴͇̅d̵͓̕ ̴̪̀ F̴͌͜o̸̩͋r̵͙͆.̷̟̐”

A soft hum and a cough, rattled the boys chest. He rubbed the boy’s back, until the gagging soothed out.

“It will make sense when you arrive where you belong. I will be there, and you will know all is… W̶̖̒ę̴̕l̶͙̎l̸̤̑.̵̘͑” The boy fumbled between his hands, trying to look at him.

“But is for’gether. That important. Have Mono.”

Pointless ideas that died in the perpetually dying world. “Why is it important? Tell me. W̸̱̌h̵̦̾ỳ̶̭?̸̰͒” The child was satisfied to fiddle with the cufflink on his wrist, and probably wanted to bite him again. If he was not cautious, the child might try eating him.

 “Mm… same. Have same.”

He snorted and giggled. Oh, this poor boy. Could learn nothing. Why bother with any of his hard earned lessons.

“We are too much same,” the Thin Man hummed. “It does not work. Ị̸̀t̷͙͠ ̵̦̓N̶̖̆ȇ̶̼v̸̨̋e̵͉̎r̴̃͜ worked. G̶̤̈́õ̶̯i̸̭͌n̵̯͝ĝ̸̫ ̷͙͌F̵̛̫o̶͉̿ṛ̵͗w̵̡̏a̶͇͘r̵̳͠d̵̞͂,̵͉̈́ ̸̰̂ it shall Ǹ̶͍è̷̜ṽ̵̧ę̴͒r̴͖̉ ̶͇̆Ẃ̸̫o̴̘̾r̷̨͘ḱ̶̗.̶̗͝ ̶̮̆T̶̜̓h̶̩̆a̶̡̛t̵̞̒ too you will H̸̟̉a̴͖̿v̶̖̈́ẽ̵̢ ̴̭̔ to ̵̨͑learn for Y̷̤̕o̵̗̓ů̵̬r̵̲͘š̷̺e̵̺̒l̴̯͝f̵͎̾.̴͈̆ ̷̗͘W̶̥͝h̷̛̯â̸̝ṫ̴ͅe̷̛͜v̵̦͝e̸͙̕r̴̗͝ ̷̼̌H̷͖̄â̵ͅp̷̛͔p̶̥͛e̵͇̔n̶̙͠s̸͇͌,̸̱̑whatever you do ̴͎͒N̶͖͐ő̶̡t̵̬͆h̸͊͜i̶̩̐ñ̴̮g̸̏͜ will ever change. W̵̰͊e̴̝̾ ̶̰̽ do not C̵̫͝h̷͚͆a̶̤͐n̵̡̽g̸̼̿e̸̞̓.̸͔̀”

That one constant was an assuring promise. After everything he broke and ruined, there was something to return to. A Place awaiting to erase everything. He could rewind it all and start over. Even if he would miss the child, just a bit. The boy had these moments that came from somewhere distance, and beyond the reach of the treacherous Signal Tower. But as the cycle foretold, all events and machinations would come to their conclusion. The world would be erased, and once more a child would return to the world - a child brimming with ruthless passion, curiosity, and idealistic fantasies. For a blink in the timeline, that boy had someone something to fight for - until his world was crushed and cast aside.

In the meantime, he needed to explain a few things to the boy.

Next

#little nightmares #the thin man #thin dad #mono #feral mono #tw: smoking mention #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #the thin man having the roughest day #dealing with viewers #going home and finding his kid smoking #mono is a child who is loyal to his thin man and will never abandon him

[grim-faux]

3 _ 26 _ The Boy and his Tower

First - An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

It was nice holding the swollen plush in his arms and squeezing it. Something about the matted fur, the fabric, the solid body, eased the ache in his chest. They were best. He could curl up against the invading chill, and hold the mass of moldy material to his side and burrow away from the world and all his failings.

The toy didn’t leave him like other children did. The other kids ran away or got lost, or vanished eventually when he stepped through one of the strange doors crooning at him with the familiar cadence. None of them liked him either, despite trying to share the place he retreated to. All of them were the same. He lost track of how many he stole, of all the different faces. At first, he did try to find the ones that got separated from him, though he knew there wasn’t much of a point. He wanted to search for them and find, like when….

Eventually, he had to stop seeking. He never learned about what happened to them, but some things were best left unknown. The child ran away to a place he could not follow, and he tried again. One after the other. He wanted someone to stay. He wanted to do better. Next time, he will make it right. But nothing ever changed. It was the same, always. They left him, and he was alone.

Toys didn’t need food. They didn’t need anything, but to be carried and held. He could pick it up and haul it around the room, but only when he needed a new spot to sit and slink away from his own thoughts. Sometimes the chair wasn’t enough and he had to burrow into a corner, quiet and clutching the toy until the seams were on the verge of erupting.

Without listening or expecting anything, he knew when the Eyes wanted to pry.

Bits of plaster crumbled from the ceiling, the chunks splint on the floor and scuttled like stones on a glassy pool. From the fissures and ruptured surfaces of the room, the many eyes rolled from the folds of flesh swelling beneath. The ever present rose and magenta hue slid across the greasy mass like crimson waves, while pockets of wriggling tissue protruded from festering mounds. Every inch of the grotesque form wriggled, creases merged and rippled fluidly like a body of water that could engulf a city. The mass gurgled and bulged as it broke free of the confines of its shell, a malformed parasite emerging from the corpse of its lobotomized victim.

Clinging to the toy in his arms, Mono rolled out of the corner and rushed all the way to the chair. He shoved the stuffed animal onto the seat, then hoisted himself up. Rather channel his powers and dismiss the shameless gawking, he instead nestled under the toy and crammed his body into the back of the hard chair.

He didn’t care! The rolling eyes didn’t think or do anything but stare, and follow him around when he let his guard down. The Flesh and teeth didn’t make speek, but if it did, it would never be to him. The monster would murmur to itself, deranged and spiteful as if he didn’t exist at all. Always prying for a reaction, grinning when he sniffled.

À̸̰Ḽ̸́Ã̷͕̍ͅS̷͐͜

̴͉̓

̵̜̚Y̵̡̮̔̇O̶̖̰̒̾U̷͕͉͂͆Ŕ̸̰͚̀ ̶̭̊̈F̵̰̒ͅR̴̥̻͊I̵̫̠̔̅Ê̵̳̟Ṅ̵̻̮D̵̟̲̉

̶̞̥́̌

̴̱̆P̴͚̒I̶̟̔̍Ṭ̸̐̃Ÿ̶̖͘

̶̧̺͛

̵̘̞̿̕T̸͉̠̈́̾Ǒ̷̥͝K̵͕͓̒͆E̸͍̍͒N̷̫͗

̴̰͇͋

̵̲̟͗̉

̶͔̖̅͆N̷͒͜͠E̴̬͊V̵̢͉͗͋Ȩ̶̖̅̔Ȑ̴̯̈́͜ ̵̛͇Ĺ̸͕͎E̶̢̝̐A̷̱͝R̴̜͂N̴͎͉͐Ş̵̐̈́

̶̹̊̐

̴̢͍̈̈W̴̳͗͘E̶̢͖̐ ̷̯̦̈D̵͓̲͐O̶̬͈̊ ̴͎͊S̸̯̖͌O̴̧̪̎

̷͈̮̄̆F̵̤̙̈́̀O̴̯͌͝R̶̮̰͒͝ ̴̧̏̆Y̶̫̔Ö̵͔́̓͜U̷͎̥̓̄R̷̝͇̅̕

̷̱̋̄

̷̰̈L̸̗̾O̸͈͑͐V̶̯͔̂̑E̸͖̰̊͆ ̸͈̆Y̵̼͋Ò̵̮̇Ụ̴̟̑́

̵̌ͅ

̶̛̙̓Ä̵̻ ̷̘̫̔N̷̡̳̔͝E̷͓͑͂W̸̘̘̎

̴̭̭̈͠

̷̘͂S̵̥͛O̵̺̗͊͐Ŗ̷͒R̶̝̆O̵̟͕̾͗W̵̙̜̃

̵̢̃̑ͅ

̵̼͆Â̶̰L̶̖͎̅L̸̪̈̕ ̴͓̎̕A̷͖͝͝L̸̲̚Ò̷̪͓N̶̝̏E̴̳̗̎̀

̶̱͋̾

The gritty fur of the toy soaked up his shivers. Without raising his face, he knew that the adulating girth was pressing closer to the chair. His coat became saturated with a syrupy warmth, and the already muggy air turned oily and dense, as if some gargantuan beast panted over him. He shook harder, nearly losing his perch on the grainy surface of the seat. The Eyes laughed at him for being foolish, for fighting so hard. The Flesh bubbled and gurgled about all the mistakes he repeated, and pondered for why he always returned to the chair. The laughter echoed through the quiet stillness of the room.

W̶̩̗̊̈́̓H̷̲͎͐̋Ä̶͇̦́̀̋T̷͖̣͕̠͐͜ ̸̠͇̮̮̺̄͑͋́͝Ȟ̴̢̂͊̕A̷̺͉̞̦̐͊̈̓͠S̴̠͂͑͌́͜ ̶̱̩͗̐͝B̵̻͍̯̟̜͑̈́̀̕Ę̵͉̘̈̒̅Ȩ̴̥̯͍̔͂͘Ņ̴͓̈́̏̔ ̶̢̢̳̙̈́̂̈͝ ̴̜̬͑S̷̝̐H̴̨͔̟͐Â̶̖̱̤͓L̸̛͙͚͆̌͌L̴͎͓̬̮̮͝ ̴͎̳͋͐͒͌͝A̴̞̜͂̎̎̽L̵̫̜͌͆͛Ẁ̴͔̙̭̪̲͘À̷̢͐̾̽Ỷ̸̛̱͔͕̙͂̑̏Ş̵̻̣̻̱̓̈͛͂̋ ̶̭̱͕̮͐̾̏ ̷̰͚̏̿̕͝ ̵̗̞̄B̷̦͎͎͌E̸̢͑̎ ̵̧͕̤͐͜Ḅ̷̧̧̙̆̿̊ͅŘ̷̢̧̫̤̤̈́͋̈́͘Ǒ̵̡̜̳͑̐À̵̦̰Ď̷͚͉̯͔͓C̴̢̠̲̞̝͂͋A̵̖̱͎̲͆̏S̶̹̐́͐́T̸͍͉͖͍͌̄̆͜Ẹ̸̞̾͆͛͗̀R̵̛̝͔͈̽͘͠ͅ

__

Mono winced and blinked his eyes open, struggling between the fog of memories and alertness. The dream haunt wasn’t scary the way most were, but it did unsettle him. It took longer for him to work out the sensations curling through his skin, and to fully recognize about where he was. Rumpled fabric swaddled him in placating darkness, the silence coated him in safety. 

Except for the underlayer of static, humming beneath the rattle of distant rains.

Only when he was certain that the beyond his little bubble was safe, and after crawling out of the lingering stupor, did he feel confident with moving. He wriggled out from the wad of shirts piled around him, and proceeded to further rouse himself.

This included scrubbing at the back of his head and a big stretch, until his joints popped. He also plucked at his coat, checking for stray threads or anything that might snag on a vicious nail. He felt the bandage on his arm, though it had been ages since it bled, and the scabbing was flaking off. That needed a check and probably another cleaning.

Speek of which. Mono raised his head peer just over the wall of the nest box. He could only see the hat of the tall thin man, though he was likely seated in a chair across the room. The hat jarred and flickered, but the Thin Man didn’t utter a sound aside from the sputtering crackle.

Mono slipped over the rim of the box and crossed to the Thin Man. Another full body jerk and a stifled twitched came in haphazard bursts from the slumped shape, all which made the chair whimper. Mono didn’t waste time in climbing up the long leg and then crawling onto one arm looped over the Thin Man's middle, he focused on keeping his balance and keeping a firm grip on the glitching fabric.

“Hoi,” he rasped. “Shh. Am hear. Mono-Mono-Mono.” Usually, it helped to pull hard on the lapels of the Thin Man’s suit, or push on his chest. All the pushing and tugging was scary, since Mono had to brace his feet, and if he stood that way, he would sometimes fall if the Thin Man flinched. “Safe. Have keep. Hmm. For happy. Then food. Go hurt wall. Have toys. The best. Am here. hey.”

He didn’t really know what to say, or if the Thin Man could hear his speek. Mono thought the man and his hat might like his voice, since Mono was the best. It was important to tell the Thin Man about good things, and food, and the hide places. All kid stuff, but maybe the Thin Man could dream about the good kid things? He didn’t know if the Thin Man remembered being a kid or what that was like for him.

Eventually, the Thin Man’s twitchy jolts dissolved, and the arm beneath Mono’s feet sagged against the crisp dress suit. Mono perched on the Thin Man’s arm, not yet assured this fitful spell was done. He watched the narrow face beneath the hat rim, his own unwavering stare dared a grimace to deepen the scowl that seemed uniform to the Thin Man, just as his hat and wonderful dress suit were. It made Mono feel better, that this was the default expression. It also amused him!

In the momentary calm, Mono turned his focus off the Thin Man and examined the room over. On a glance, nothing snatched at his hyperattention. The room held nothing but a desk and a few chairs, along with a crate and stale boxes. Beyond the entry, the other room opened up and wove its space through with a multitude of shelves filled with different boxes of varied sizes. Early on he did try to take a scout and gather his bearings, but the Thin Man caught said he needed more rest.

The Thin Man didn’t do scouts. Mono only returned to the nest box, because no danger had come blundering through making a ruckus. Yet. More importantly, he was in no condition for flee if he stumbled onto the creature he should've been hide from.

He clambered over the Thin Man’s arm and nestled down against his tummy. The air hung onto him damp and cold, though the rain wasn’t gushing into this place, its presence was constant and spiteful. The Thin Man was always dry and warm, like a nest buried deep and hidden in a wall. Or a television that wasn’t laughing nastily at him.

The rustle of static was so deep, it burned away the whistle of drafts and cackle of gleeful walls. Mono whispered back, recalling his most favorite stories. The Thin Man didn’t frown at him, or touch his face and look away when Mono did the speek. He gave Mono food and gifts, and whenever the man in the hat left, he always came back. He always brought more foods, and things for Mono to look at. They did company, and the Thin Man did speek for Mono. Him and the Thin Man had together, and there was no other children.

What else?

The Place! Did Mono like the story? No, not really. The Place was a lie, but the way the Thin Man did speek, it made it so important. Nothing could be more important than the Thin Man.

Mono wriggled free of the arm braced to his side, and inched to the Thin Man’s elbow. He lost his grip and dropped face first to the ground, smashing into a pile of papers. Ow. These mishaps only happened offhand in places where he wasn't fighting the storm, and when he didn't need to overcalculate his footing. But falling into a gaping chasm was still falling into a gaping chasm, rain or not. He made note that he was not fully coordinated, but an errand would get the kinks out of his joints.

With a flick of his coat, Mono got his bearings in order and wandered to the open doorway. He crouched in the threshold, studying a countertop, and then the layout of debris scattered below the shelves beyond that barrier. Looking back, he verified that the Thin Man was deep in rest. He didn’t want to go off while him needed a watch, but Mono was hungry, and a danger... scout was important.

He departed the doorway and hurried to the first aisle, and checked that nothing had changed since he last breezed through. Shelves full of boxes, but nothing that indicated food stuff. Nothing smelled vaguely edible, there wasn’t any insects either. A bad sign. Bugs liked one of two things, dead stuff and garbage. No garbage meant no food to bag and pile up.

The dumb shelves had nothing to offer. He wandered from the forest of aisles, and followed a wall brimming with more shelves. All this wandering rewarded him with a doorway, which placed him in another large room furnished with a few chairs and some short tables, and some toys.

Mono inspected the few items. A few wooden animals occupied the floor, cracked and the colors faded. He stacked the few blocks and knocked those over. A short and squat shelf held more toys, such as a broken doll, and a top. He dropped the top to spin on the carpet, and dug into the other cuvees while the top whistled. He sneezed at the dust clouding his face, and scrubbed his nose.

A book. It had a picture speek on the front, and that sort of spooked Mono. It was an adult and a child. Weird. The book probably wasn’t aye-gee-pro-whatever. It was nothing but pictures. He liked picture speek.

Hoisting the book into his arms, he hurried back to where the Thin Man was. On his way, he had to stop a few times to adjust his grip and rest some. Retracing his steps under the scant light of the ceiling bulbs was easy, and soon he was collapsed at the threshold of the room.

He checked first that the Thin Man was quiet and dozing. Then, spun the book around and opened to the first page. Morbid curiosity was all it was. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was certain it would be gory. He didn’t know if it was warning speek, or something adults would have written. Adults only read mark speek though.

The pages are very drab and faded, but Mono is skilled with finding marks. The adult and child are always together, that surfaced through the grime. The child makes a face, the adult has the same face. It’s like a smile, but the grunge made it hard to define. The child is never in a cage or trapped, or tied up, or torn to pieces. The adult does the thing like the Thin Man – he sits in a chair and holds a book. On the next page, him and the kid are together tossing a ball. There’s a sequence of pages of them together… they build a plane. And a television. The adult gives food on a plate to the child. The two eat together. Sometimes there’s an other adult, but not always. Not enough to make that confusing to Mono. Maybe that adult is danger, and the child tricked them?

There are sometimes other children, and sometimes there are more other adults. Mono tore out the pictures with the other children, and the other adults. They shouldn’t be there.

Most of the time, it is only the adult and the child, doing company. Like him and the Thin Man! The kid looked happy. The adult looked happy too.

Mono tilted his head. He doesn’t know if the adult keeps the kid. It’s confusing. He flipped pages backwards and forwards, struggling with the sketches and expressions. Why is there mark speek, with picture speek? The kid laid under blankets on a bed. That doesn't make sense, but the marks are hard to be certain with.

He fully expected to turn one page, and the adult would be in the kitchen with a knife, and the child would be portioned into pieces on a plate or in a skillet. He’d seen Snatchers do that. They collected children, and some would be divided into pieces on a cutting board. Blood everywhere, soaking into the metal sink. The floors and the Snatchers boots drenched in black and brown. A pot on the stove would bubble with grease, the lid gushing brown froth, and the smells….

He dropped onto the book and tightened up into a ball, his fists knotted into his hair. The smells… made his stomach growl, and his mouth water. Some of those kids, he knew. But now, he didn't know them.

The gruesome mirage ripped away from Mono, when the book slid out from beneath his face. With his heart pulsing, he jerked his head up… only to take a sharp breath when the looming shadow doused him. It took some deep and controlled breathing to get the throbbing in his chest to ease. Too many memories, too many haunts. His tummy was still grumbling about his ghastly thoughts.

“T̴̨͗h̵̹̕ḭ̴͝ś̷͎ ̶̜͗Ì̷̯s̵̡̎ ̸̟̃N̴̘͘o̵̘̔t̶̼̐ ̵̧͐R̸͙͑e̸͗ͅs̴̟̆t̸̪́i̴̛̠ṅ̸̟g̶̭̃,̴̫̾” the Thin Man yawned. “The complete opposite, if observation continues to serve me.” The knelt figure took the book Mono was crumpled on and held it between his hands. “What is this rubbish?” He turned the book vertical, and then sideways.

“T’speek,” Mono hissed, while tugging on his pants knee. “S’mine. Gimmie. Mah’find. Make work. Make pikters. Give’m.” He tried climbing onto his leg, but the Thin Man already tossed the book aside.

“Later. You are not fit to be up and roaming.”

Mono hissed at the stupid Thin Man! Nonetheless, he let the man in the hat scoop him up and shift in a glitchy sputter, over to the box in the room’s corner. He could nest himself, but the Thin Man wanted to be important and fix the bedding into puffy rumples around his shoulders. He didn’t like the box or its walls; if something stumbled in on him, leaping out would be perilous. The instant the Thin Man withdrew his hands, Mono kicked off the fabric and shoved it aside.

The Thin Man returned to his chair and sat, much the way he did when Mono first opened the door. That is, until he looked directly at Mono. “L̸͙͆̋̕ą̷̬̱̟̏s̵̢̹̳̺̾̏t̷̫̫͓̪̊̑̕ ̵̙̼̥̃̋Ẃ̶͈̯̓̇̀a̸̧̺̞͗̅̚͜r̶̥̅̃n̶̥͐̀́ȋ̷̘̳͇̱n̵̦̜̬͆͗ġ̷͈̰̂͝.̶̞͔̓͑”

Mono ducked forward and leaned his shoulder into the side of the box. The static hummed through the room as a measure for the Thin Man’s agitation. That was on account Mono couldn’t do what the Thin Man told him to. Not when it came to his powers and tearing apart buildings, or whatever else the Thin Man did speek about. He barely could teleport as it was – realizing how reliant he became of that trick, it chilled Mono.

Who cared if he couldn't break skyscrapers or open doors without a box? That was all dumb if he couldn’t flee!

He fidgeted around, until he could tug out the hats and other neat treasures from his coat. It was mostly just hats, and the damaged speek of the face, and some crumpled feathers (he didn’t know he had those). Sitting upright, he made the effort of fixing the matted and splintered ‘hairs’, but that was no good. The stalks were bent, and much of the fibers peeled away. They smelled bad too.

Honest, he would’ve eaten them if they didn’t smell awful.

Sometimes if he found a neat picture or made some good speek on a page, he did like to keep those. But… aside from the face speek, the papers had become sodden and pulverized into mush. He pulled out the crumbs in lumps, hoping to find something edible. Even if only a nibble.

“Ỷ̵̥ö̷͜u̵̡̾ ̴̰̗̔̃Ả̵͖̝r̷̖̋e̷̳͂ ̵̟̄͋S̵͓͎͆u̷͓̐͊p̸͍̈́ṕ̶̟̻̃ơ̴̬͖s̶̪͎̋͌e̷͖̎d̴̖̑ ̵̨̾͠T̵̖̘̐̚ó̴̮͂ ̷̨̱̕͝Ḃ̸̪ê̶̢̓ ̵͓̄̅R̵̝̲̕e̷̬̥͝s̷̜̑̋t̵̨̺͊̋i̴̹̩̎n̶̟̾͜g̵̼͈͑͠ ̶̻̀T̸̩͐ḧ̴̪̰̈́a̸̘̹͛t̸͔̿ ̶̪̩́H̶͚̯͒e̵̲̍ä̴́͑ͅd̷̗͈̏̇ ̸̖͒̔Ŏ̷͎f̵̤͇͐ ̴̥͗Y̴̡̽̃͜ó̵̢͘ú̶̼̼r̴̡̬͛s̶͙̚̚.̴̙̃͜”

Mono didn’t respond. He was resting. He did tuck down beside the inner wall of the box, so the Thin Man couldn’t see him. He checked his hats, and fixed the fabric and smoothed out bad kinks. He still had the rain slicker the kid in the cage gave him. Some of his older hats barely held together by a few threads, like toys. He didn’t like to leave hats, since finding new hats was impossible. And he always lost them eventually. He had important hats that reminded him of important things. Like the color cap.

Nothing lasts forever.

He tucked the hats away and climbed over the side of the box’s wall.

“À̴̜n̷̡̛͎d̸̖̜̆ ̷͇̳͛͌J̴̬̹̉̾u̶͉̠̾͊s̶̙̒̿t̶͈̩̎͝ ̷̯̂W̵̡͌h̵̨̢̉ã̷͈̣͘t̷̮̒͝ ̶̗̞̒À̴̭̦̀r̸̘͋̊ͅe̸̫͉̿̋ ̸̥͉̕W̴̼̆e̵̮̦̍̒ ̷̤̞͌D̷̢̎̅ó̴̺̣ì̵̭̹͝ṅ̴͔̟̔g̴̢̔̆?̶̬̼͋͋”

Mono didn’t reply as he made his way to the doorway. That didn’t stop the Thin Man from appearing in front of him, and settling his fists on his hips. The eyes beneath the low brim of the hat glowed.

“Am t’look.” He slipped between the Thin Man’s shoes and went on his way. Or he would have, if the Thin Man hadn’t plucked him up. “No. Look. For—”

“Ṋ̷̠͘ơ̵̠̹̄!̵̰̆ You will rest, and then W̸̙̆͝ê̴̢͇ ̸̛͎̊͜S̵̩̲͌̋h̴̭̑͑a̴̯̋̆l̶͔̺͠l̴̗͑͘ͅ ̷̘̋̍H̴̯̗̀̋ä̴̻̙̎v̴̙̚è̸̲̪ another try ̴̰̿ͅŴ̴̮i̴̡̛t̸̪̕ḥ̶͝ ̷͕́Y̶̞̆o̴̘̒u̶͓͘r̴͎̂ ̶̹͘Ṯ̵̊r̵͈̋ä̴͇́í̶͔n̴̙͒ȋ̵̙n̴̺̈g̸̯̚.̸̜͂” Mono was set back in the box. The Thin Man directed a finger onto his head. “G̴͙̋̚e̴͕͋t̵̟̮̀̋ ̶̛̥Ÿ̵̤́o̶̫̓̀u̵͚͒̿r̶͙͕͌̓ ̷̝̣͌͝R̵̲̟͌͋ē̴͙s̶̪̎̉t̸͍̂ or I will consider O̵͚͝u̷̧̼͂r̴̦̄ ̶̺͉͂͗ C̸̟͌o̸̧̠̾̓h̸̪͍͂̉ă̸̮͌b̶͈̯̆͒i̴̢̒t̵͚̠̒̕a̸͚̾̈́t̸͇̦̾i̸̯͑͒o̶̡̤̽̅n̸͖̪̋̏ ̸̬̀ expired. A̴͖̎͊r̴͎̖̓e̵̲͘ ̸͎͕͒̿Ÿ̷̗͙͝o̷͖̥̚ủ̶͙̀ ̷̦͗R̶̲̥̔̕ę̶̼͛a̴̪͍̎͘d̸̻̓y̶̗̹̑̓ ̸͙͗F̵͈̂̚ò̸͕r̴͇̤̕ ̷̙̍̃͜T̶͕̖̒͝h̵͙͖̅̓a̶͝ͅt̶̫̆͠?̸̳͇̈́”

Mono stood in the box and had a thought about it. He opened his mouth, rethought it, but ultimately decided to sit down – or lay down – and do nothing for however long. The Thin Man watched him for a while longer, but was happy with where Mono was and went back to his chair.

Even though the Thin Man kept children and liked to look at them, he was an adult and was strange. Not that Mono could complain, he liked the Thin Man. Dealing with the grumpiness and the neediness of the man in the hat was hard, a lot harder than an other child.

If the Thin Man was an child, and they had together, then they could go scout together. Look for food and keep alert for monsters. The two pairs of eyes. Important. They would always call for the other, and listen for monsters. 

What did the Thin Man look like if child?

It nearly made Mono giggle, but he smothered the squeal by chewing on a dingy shirt sleeve. He tried not to think of a grumpy, frowny kid in a hat. And he couldn't even start to imagine the Thin Man in his fitted suit, only smol. No. Kids didn’t wear armor like that.

A button up shirt, but foof and baggy. Because the Thin Man was lucky to find something. Mono would find him clothing, and show him how to tie the sleeves back. He was good at finding useful things, like fuses and keys. And the Thin Man would wear a hat – he and Mono would share hats. And food. He always made sure the Thin Man had something, especially since kids always had to look for food.

They would always be together, and no other kids. Bleh. No Her. No one.

Mono would keep the Thin Man safe, and make nests, and give him treasures. The Thin Man would be happy and smile. There would be new games, the sort children played! They would hide from monsters, and huddle close to repel the bitter touch of curious drafts. Someday they would travel to the city edge and escape the Tower's glares. They would hold hands have speek and share stories. And the Thin Man would have never let go. The Thin Man would always catch him, and they left the Tower before the world collapsed.

With a choked whine, Mono shrugged off the drowsy cloak numbing his senses. He wrenched into instant rigidness, head creeping over the edge of the box as a sock slipped off his shoulders. After a listen and taking in the stillness, he unwound.

That was probably the Thin Man moving around. The tall figure already stood at the entry of the room, smoking and watching the outside, and beyond the counter.

Clueless to how long he must’ve snoozed, Mono climbed over the side of the box and padded over to the leaning figure. He had dreams, but no real haunts as was typical. He couldn’t recall what he saw, if there were nightmares. He did feel silly after all the stories about the Thin Man and him. They were fun, but left him with nothing but a deep want of something he didn't understand. It felt the same as when the somewhere, the Thin Man said they weren't friends. Only children made friends and packed.

He pressed his toes onto the Thin Man’s shoe and looked up at the tallest creature in all the Pale City. This was his favorite thing to do, especially while the man in the hat wasn’t moving or shifting, because Mono couldn’t see anything but the miles of torso, and the edge of the hat. Maybe a glittering eye, if the man in the hat decided to peer down at him – like he did now.

The Thin Man drew the corner of his lip back and hummed. Mono stuck the tip of his tongue out.

No reply came from the Thin Man, he didn’t need to do the speek. He just stepped away, and Mono chased. This is how it always was. Roaming between shelters, never stopping for long. Sneaking around dangers, or navigating the impossible terrain.

__

It was one of those times where Mono had to work for keeping up with the Thin Man. The tall thin man didn't stall long to peer at walls, or long, twisted corridors; he touched his chin or his hat, and sometimes his outline crackled. Many thoughts whirled in the tall thin man’s hat, and sometimes he was quiet, but other times he murmured to himself. Not always, mostly when he stopped for a while and stared.

They left the building and returned to the roads, drifting among sheltered alleys, or slipping through smaller buildings with broken windows and eroded floors. This was good for Mono, who was in constant vigil for canisters or bags, anything really, which might contain castoff scraps. If he wasn’t using an icy metal container as a boost to reach a high shelf, then he was climbing into a dumpster, or crawling under shelves to check for hints of something worth nibbling. That was how the Thin Man got away from him. When he got stuck in a rolling canister, which tumbled down a steep road.

None of that stopped Mono from going through bags piled along the walls, only to make certain he didn’t overlooking anything – a stray can or sealed jar he could break. Everything and him was drenched by the rains, and he waded through shredded plastic and papers. Bags didn’t usually have anything worthwhile, but scavenging the canisters hadn’t spared anything to really gnaw on.

In one alley that lay quiet, he tucked into a broken crate and risked taking off his coat. He took a new ribbon of cloth and wrapped his arm, though it was well and healed aside from scabbing. If he didn’t keep it covered, the Thin Man would fuss about it.

The alley didn’t have an obvious way out, except for a window and a very high fence. Mono wandered back and forth, checking an offshoot path for clues he might’ve overlooked, but always returning to the sturdy fence after every patrol. On a whim, he raised his arms at the fence and made it….

Sway.

That was something! Mono lifted his arms and braced his stance to the rocky tarmac. The Thin Man always raised his arms when he used his powers. Like when they Tuned the Transmission for the televisions. Like the Signal Tower. The televisions… they called to Mono. He always thought it was the Thin Man, and the same that they shared. They shared so much same.

He didn’t get what he was supposed to do, though. He raised his arms and stuff happened? When he put his hand on the screen, then he could tune the transmission. But that was the televisions, and his connection to them. Aside from tuning and teleport, he didn’t think him and the man in the hat had that sort of same.

Regardless, and with a snap of his coattail. He wanted to. The Thin Man knew everything.

Getting a grip on a sensation was hard. He didn’t like televisions, he didn’t like being alone with them. He liked it when the Thin Man moved through the screens (it still looked funny watching him crawl through). But Mono knew the Tower was thinking about him, the hall was somewhere and waiting endlessly. There was a doorway and a chair someplace out there, but… he wasn’t ready for the Thin Man to go away.

The fence crackled and rattled against the debris heaped around it, but all otherwise refused too cooperate.

Beneath the clatter of pellets hitting his hat - among fat droplets - Mono picked out some other, more sinister sound. One that heightened his alarm, and snapped his attention skyward. He bolted backwards, nearly slipping on a wad of posters seeping into the road.

Chunks of cement and a broken window frame impaled the rugged asphalt, narrowly missing only because he scrambled away. The creaky stitch work of an escape ladder folded through the alley, slashing through the fence in the process. The entire barrier flopped over like the greasy fin of a fish.

When the clatter of delicate pebbles faded out, Mono stood and checked his coat. Still in one piece. He looked at the remains of a fence and prodded at the gooey paper pulp with his toes. That was one way to make a path. He wished the Thin Man had seen this.

He would show him later.

The game was hard. If he could do better, then he and the Thin Man would have more same. He would learn more about the mystery of the man in the hat. He struggled, and the Thin Man made so much speek about power, train'eeh stren’thet, rep’ress, uti-ees, cap-eh’bili… something. So much speek and most of it beyond what Mono could get his head around.

All that he needed to know was raise his hand and focus. Like when he tuned the televisions. He still didn’t have a grasp on how to really fix where the screen would lead. Not like the Thin Man, who was so focused and precise. Whenever he wanted Mono to try, he watched with that same intense captivation. It was always the same, though. The Thin Man blinking and a rustling sigh.

While exploring through the inner rooms of a building, he became separated from the way out when the floor crumbled under his feet; he tumbled into sooty, darkness. Fortunately for him, the fall was dulled by the steep sloping of the floor; nonetheless, when he began search for a way back, he lost contact with the windows and from where he came in. That was usually how the city worked. It was a snare noose that tightened on its victim, and the more kids struggled, the tighter the snare became.

Wandering the broken corridors in the dark was second nature. He hoped the place might have a pack of kids, or some food. The dank and partially flooded chambers offered nothing but moldering corners and a key, which unlocked a chain-link fence. Echoing off the greasy walls, a distance but ever-present drip and dripping hovered out of reach. Strange nippers picked at his toes as he waded through water, and big buzzing creatures slashed at his scalp. Stop and rest was impossible, or the multitudes of harassing vermin would pinch his skin and clothing, and it hurt.

Somehow, he managed to climb some stairways, and find upper levels with open doors and more windows, and plenty of light. He hoped restoring power to the lift – an ability the Thin Man had – would get him someplace where he could collect his thoughts. However, Mono couldn't make the lift work, not first without retracing his steps and securing a fuse. The heaviest fuse he's ever lugged around, but he had been rushing nonstop through mud, and had to find a bottle of salt to kill a giant snail. He hated snails! Worst monsters!

After all that running around, Mono decided to find shelter on the roof, and sit for a think. The endless rains prattled against the bent opening of a vent, which arched above a shallow slope. All the same, it was soaking and the wind tugged at his coat, but he could sit out of the intensity and rest his toes.

High in the sky and buried within a choked fog, the Tower was invisible but for the glaring orb of its beacon. It pulsed, as if blinking at him and wondering. He knew better.

If Mono shut his eyes, he could sometimes see the Viewers perched on the edge of a roof somewhere, the surrounding skyrises loomed beneath the searing leer of the master spire. The monoliths gazed down at the bodies falling, one after the other, zipping through miles of mist before cracking upon jagged roads.

This aimless wandering had gotten him dangerously close to the Tower. He imagined it snickering at how misled and bewildered he was, struggling to find his way with no idea where he was, while dead ends and broken routes kept him wandering adrift. Everything was made harder with the dwindling picture speek, and the few outdated warnings that indicated passages, most of which no longer existed. The roads became gargantuan and swallowed everything anchored to the ground, it even slurped away the panicked scribbles left by travelers from elsewhere.

And It sneered through televisions at him.

It wanted him. Something Mono never figured out was who called him. Was that the Tower? Or… did the Thin Man? It always seemed like he heard a voice make the speek, but the distortion was too much and he never remembered clearly after the television ensnared him. It was the hall and then the door waiting, always out of grasp. It was… important. So important. He never knew how important, not until now.

After the brief rest, Mono was compelled to keep on going. The Tower creeped him out.

A neighboring building had folded over and leaned against the skyscraper he was stranded on. The drop was not too far, even without a teleport. Through a gaping window staring skyward, he entered the tilted room. Getting through the tipped rooms was much more difficult than he initially expected, given that he was climbing more than walking. Some doorways became inaccessible, while others he could reach by shifting furniture around. Within the broken rooms, the walls ached and wailed about tearing free of their anchoring in the floors and ceilings - of at last coming undone and scattering through the roads. Each blast of the gale caused the corridors to wail and the surfaces to tremble; the construct could fall at any moment, and it loved to remind Mono.

Somewhere in the agonized building, the floors leveled out and no longer hung precariously over open gaps. The walls still creaked and sometimes, silt from the ceiling trickled down whenever a rattling shivers slid through his feet. In rooms, the harmonious trills chattered in the gibberish that entranced adults. The only Viewers he found were tangled in the shattered boards of window frames, or buried under rumble from a collapsed ceiling/wall.

In one of the rooms he explored, a few toys and other interesting curios sat about. These sort of places reminded him of somewhere… else, though he didn’t know of where or why. He tried pushing a small wagon around, and stacked a few blocks beside the table. On the far side of the room, a glitched fragment sputtered beneath the dim light of a lamp.

He glanced its way every so often as he searched through a drawer set, and checked under a bed. They spooked him, but he doesn’t know why. Like with televisions, Mono was always drawn to the static woven children. Other kids… do they see them? His friends never seemed to. The kids couldn’t make the televisions work, at least, not the way Mono did.

Is it hurt? Could it be afraid? The fragment does nothing but replay the same movement, that being 'carve into' the base of the wall it huddled beside.

“Hey,” he whispered, as he shuffled closer. As expected, the shadowy child doesn’t react. He explored over the speek, recognizing the Tower and the tallies. The days that could never exist in a world of perpetual cloud cover.

“Have for gone? Sad?” Of course, the glitchy child doesn’t break its movement. “Are y'hungry? Can speek? Does pack?” Without really thinking, he reached for the child's backside.

The sensation nearly sent him buckling forward. He gave a constrained hiss and coiled his arms over his chest, while the sizzling tingle rippled through his muscles. A faint scent picked at his nose but when he wrenched around, no one was there. He sometimes forgot, a smell like heat or burning came whenever he touched the glitched children. He doesn’t know why, but for a moment he thought… it smelled similar, but not like the smoke. No one came for him.

The building was far from his choice of stop and rest, but after the running everywhere and struggling to move furniture, he needed to curl up and not do much. Mono didn’t so much as make a nest, but he did tug a pants and shirt between the wall and a couch. He could push up a fold of cloth and block out drafts, and hide himself.

He knew the Thin Man would never come to this place. It was terrible. Too many leaks and draft, and the televisions. The man in the hat didn’t like them either, not unless he wanted Mono to tune them. This wasn’t a place the Thin Man would want to visit Mono.

For a short spell it would work, and he stayed put for a while. He listened to the language of the building and held focus for the steady hum of the wind, anticipating the sudden shift when a window burst or a wall caved – any indication that the entire construct would crumble.

With him inside.

While musing about stories with the Thin Man, he dozed in the small bubble of warmth. It was so quiet without the threads of static plucking at his mind. He worked out ideas about the book and the adult and the child. It persisted to perplex him, though he knew some adults – like the man in the hat – liked to keep children. Were the adult and child always together though other kids were there? The pictures of food looked so good.

He tried to make a face like the kid made. He couldn’t see how he made faces, but he put his palms on his cheeks and tried to feel the lines.

__

After traversing through the levels of the skyscraper, and probably other buildings with dwellings and rooms full of televisions, Mono managed to climb his way back down into the street via a demolished wall that tore out the side of a lower floor. He really meant to stay inside and was only on a brief detour outside – to reach another window. However, midway there, the ledge of rotten stairs dangling from the tattered wall, crumbled from under him. He gave a strangled yelp as he plunged through a cloud of fog.

A stack of cardboard boxes broke his fall, but the wind was still knocked out of him. It was a while of lying in a puddle of pulp before he could get himself to move. He had the time, the fall hadn’t been noisy. He’d fallen from higher before.

At least back on the streets, he could have a better view of getting away from the Signal Tower. There weren’t that much more options for routes, and he didn’t like being out where it could see him. Even before when he traveled with Her and it called, he only felt okay with the televisions. Probably because the Thin Man?

The imposing skyrises huddled in the backdrop, while he wandered through sections of buildings and crossed through alleys. He found breaks in doors or windows, sometimes a cracked vent gave access through the multitude of broken stairways standing, after the walls peeled away. This was good, since Viewers kept patrolling the alleys and roads; the creatures rarely stopped to check a television playing cheerful tunes. Whenever Mono stopped, he did like to watch them tromp around with their creaky groans. If he kept his distance, he was fine.

A dumpster stood beneath a high window, but if he could get onto the lid he could get out of the rain. A rusted shopping cart needed some persuasion, along with grumbled child profanities, before he had it all situated. Once he squeezed through the narrow slot in the boarded window, the rattle of rain softened.

An initial listen gave some reference for what to expect. No televisions yammered, the stuffy hush suggested abandonment and sinister tension. The deceptive texture of reclusive light put him on edge, but the walls creaked as customary - assuring all was right. He hopped from the sill and began exploring the cluttered fringes, snuffling at baggage and ruble. After trekking a ways down a lone corridor, he stumbled onto the first stairwell. With a gulp he began climbing.

It must’ve been ages that he sought and explored through dismantled chambers, and scaled an assortment of pipes sprouting from gutted walls. At some point, the prick of static made him sneeze. Though now, Mono had a crisp kick to his step as he charged room to room, grabbing whatever small item he could move (without powers) and hauled the makeshift steps to the doors. His frustration spiked whenever he prematurely leapt off a box or something, but hadn’t taken the time to move it closer. He could’ve made those jumps easy, but only after rest.

When he flopped through an entry, the thick whir on the air greeted him. After collecting himself and catching his breath, he initiated the search by bolting through the first large room. A lack of defining radiance made his chore nearly impossible, but after retracing his steps and taking his time to trace the walls, he stumbled onto the thicket of rasp of static sheltered away.

But to be certain, Mono crouched by the threshold and stared into the room. At first it spooked him, the scratchy and grating sounds. It made him think of the Teacher.

However! The silhouette was unmistakable. A hat, the narrow shoulders hunched, and the thin thread of smoke rising off the table. The bent arm shifted on the table as the noise making persisted.

It took some firm restraint to keep from zipping out to grab the man in the hat. An other child might be with him now. This might be a whole new place where he kept other kids, and his presence wouldn't be wanted. Mono never saw evidence of a kid, no nest box or anything. The kid could hide, though Mono doubted anyone could hide from him. Regardless, he should be careful and wait. In case. He busied himself with plucking the end of his coat tail and checking on his hats.

With a new hat planted on his head, he dashed from the doorway. “Did call?” The Thin Man didn’t stop his scratching or whatever, even when Mono tugged on his pant leg. “S’call? Hey?” He jolted aside when the hunched figured creaked, a glittering eye flashed beneath the rim of the hat. “Mm? Call?”

The Thin Man rasped and touched his brow. “What?”

That was a good question. Mono bounced in place, before running laps around the chair. “Does call? Does call?” he insisted. “Am Mono. Mono-Mono. From tell’vision.” A wheeze gushed between his teeth, when the man in the hat grabbed him.

“Does sum… summ’in. Am summ’en door? To open?” He wriggled his feet and tried to reach his arms for the table edge, but the Thin Man didn’t lift him higher than his knees. “Hey. T’door. See? Am open, then you. YouYouYou. Find?” There was so much he wanted to ask, though the Thin Man was already frowning, and leaning against the table on his other elbow.

“Child. Please. Shut up.”

“And there you,” he went on, while tugging on the Thin Man’s leg. “From door? In tell’vision, then door. For tune and open. S’door. Or Tow’Eer….” He stopped when the Thin Man tightened the grip on his waist.

Okay.

Mono took a breath and held it. The static bristled through his skin and the shroud over the Thin Man’s shoulders darkened. Mono kept still. That was important, too.

“S̶͙̚h̷͇̿u̴̯̕ṱ̷̋.̶̡͋ ̸̢̚Ụ̸̇p̸̬̈́,” the Thin Man crackled. “D̴͖̄ǒ̷̤ ̴̺́N̴̺̂o̵̢̔t̴̙̅ ̴̹̏È̶̳v̸̻̅ê̶̩r̸͉͗ ̵̼̃S̷̗̀p̶̰̎e̷͉͂e̷̞̓ḵ̴̓ ̷̗̌Ô̶̪f̶͉̆ ̶̩͛Ṯ̸́h̸̥̏a̸͖̚t̸̰̆ ̷̜̓A̷̘͠c̴̉ͅć̷̭u̵̧͗r̵͓̀s̷̲̕ę̴̐d̷̖́ ̶̋ͅD̶̲͋õ̵ͅo̴̱͗r̶̤̀.̵̜̅ È̶̳v̸̻̅ê̶̩r̸͉͗.”

Mono resisted the urge to make a noise, or ask for why? That was when Mono found him! The event had been scary and awful, it was the worst happening in all of his life. But now? Now, Mono had someone important and it meant the world to him. They had together the best company… but he kept the Thin Man, and made sure he had everything, food, and Mono always checked on him. They played games, and the Thin Man wanted to share the same powers.

But too, the Thin Man was very grumpy, and probably forgot which child Mono was. He could remind him later.

He chewed the tip of his tongue and dipped his hat down. The Thin Man didn’t like questions, they were too much. He gently petted the Thin Man’s hand and let him know it was okay. He didn’t want to hurt the Thin Man.

It took a while, but the Thin Man exhaled and set him down onto the floor. Good. Him was happy, and he had his Mono. The man in the hat didn’t say a thing more, but bent back up over the table and returned to the soft scraping.

Mono looked around the room as he tucked his shirt tail back in, and checked the sleeve with his wrapped arm. This wasn’t a kitchen, the Thin Man didn’t visit kitchens, and no cabinets and no sink, or fridge. The room had some cabinets, but they were attached to the upper wall and ceiling, and he couldn’t reach them.

The table had two chairs, and a broken one. Mono scooted under the table and climbed onto the seat of one chair, then pulled himself onto the tables surface. Now on the table, he saw what the scratch sound was. He tilted his head at the pages scattered before the Thin Man, and the books. Lumped with fascination, Mono scooted to the nearest page. Before he can reach out, a shadow blotted out the tempered gloom and a set of fingers wrapped around his waist.

Annoyed, Mono let his fingers slide across the grainy wood, as he was moved. He persisted to protest by dangling like a sack of flour, until he was dropped to the floor. When the hand withdrew, he rolled to his feet… but the chair slide out from beneath the table and slammed into the wall.

Only the hat was visible from where Mono stood, beneath the edge of the table. The hat stayed tipped forward, while the Thin Man scratched away at the pages. Mono stuck his tongue out at him, though the Thin Man couldn’t see. Probably.

The other chair was further to the end of the table. With a stealthy leap, Mono heaved himself onto the seat, and then to the tabletop. The Thin Man was much to engrossed with the pages to heed his reappearance. Still, Mono remained cautious, observing the downcast hat with the thin trail of smoke. When the other hand shifted, Mono rocked side-to-side. He exhaled a tight breath, when the Thin Man flipped through the pages of a book.

While the Thin Man was occupied, Mono crawled to the nearest set of pages on the table and reached out. Before he could tug one away, a lone finger pinned the paper and snapped it out of his grip. Effortlessly.

The anemic bulb bristled in the ceiling, and thick particles curled off the tall thin man. And his hat. Mono nearly managed to creep away, but the fingers snared the tail-end of his coat and lifted him off the tables surface. He was dropped off the side, but was otherwise okay. He raced back to the chair and climbed onto the seat, right when it wrenched across the floor. The chair crashed into the wall hard enough to shred the wallpaper, and embed the chair’s back with the wood. And also send Mono flying to the floor.

After checking that his coat was unharmed, Mono rushed back to the man in the hat. This time, intending to liberate the chair on the other side of the table from where it had been moved.

This was what they did for some time. The Thin Man kept scribbling and shuffling the papers he put mark speek on, barely glancing up whenever he grabbed Mono. He never made speek to Mono, didn’t look at him either. Sometimes the man in the hat made a grunt, or sighed smoke.

If the swirling particles became too dark and shed off his shoulders in waves, Mono did teetered on getting too close. The Thin Man was too focused with scratching the marks onto pages. Mono needed to get closer and let the Thin Man know he was Mono, but anything could happen when the Thin Man bristled with static.

It did happen that both chairs became impossible to move - they fell apart. This forced Mono to depart the room shortly, and locate an alternative means for reaching the tabletop. In the corner of a distant room, he did find a spare can, empty, but he could roll it on the floor. Without alerting the man in the hat, he returned and set up his new boost out of reach. The Thin Man remained engrossed with the pages - pausing in the mark scratch to check a book, then continued scribbling.

Tucking knees into his coat, Mono hung back and watched while the Thin Man did a shuffle of the pages, and stacked the mess into something less chaotic. Aside from touch his face, he did that a lot – reshuffling, flipping through papers, or glancing into the books. It made Mono's spine shiver with how this reminded him of the Teacher. He managed to suppress a growl.

Once the Thin Man had the piles of pages stacked, he resumed using the stick to mark dark symbols onto one page. Mono was content to stay loafed up in his wonderful coat and followed the swift motions – the sharp flicks and dipping curves. Nothing but marks came from the rapid, sweeping movement, and none looked like anything interesting. But the Thin Man liked doing it. The marks matched the ones in the books, more or less.  Mono didn't know the marks could be remade. Only children did speek, and that was usually on walls. 

He wasn't certain how all this worked together, but for sure, he wanted to do marks too! He didn’t have a color stick or anything. At least, not one he could use. He did poke through his pockets, in case.

That was all the Thin Man did. Made marks and eat smoke. Then, when he ran out of room on a page, he flipped it over. Or he slotted it away into a pile. The neat stacks again matched the ambiguous piles they were before. Sometimes, he flipped a page in a book. He had three open, each book he took a moment to pause and stare into.

When Mono tired of doing nothing, he unfolded onto his tummy. With his arms bent under his chest and his legs stretched out under his coat, he scooted along the edge of the table. As he shuffled, he kept his hat lowered and stalled only here and there, to listen for the scratching to stop. The hat kept him hidden, the amazing coat blended in with the table. He nearly hissed, when the back of his foot snagged a splinter. That bite he would check later.

Upon bumping into the side of the Thin Man’s elbow, Mono snorted and froze up. Did he feel that? He shoved the hat sideways and took in his surroundings, made sure the Thin Man hadn’t noticed him. He couldn’t scoot behind the elbow, it was against the tables edge. Being as inconspicuous as possible, Mono eased up and made a silent leap over the Thin Man’s arm. By silent, he didn’t grumble or grunt. The hat did flop onto the other side of the arm and tumbled off the table, but Mono recovered and tugged the collar of his coat high over his head before the Thin Man saw him.

Nothing happened for a long time. At last, the stiff grating resumed, and a page flipped. Mono risked peeking from the shelter of his coat, and tilted his head back to peer up at the chiseled face. He went unnoticed! Mono may not be the best at flee, but no kid could hide like him.

With his coat sleeve, he scrubbed his itchy nose and examined the pages the Thin Man put marks all over.

A barely suppressed hiss escaped him, when he set his glare on a small picture of the Eye. Sure, the warning speek of the Eyes was tagged everywhere. It was somehow worse when the Thin Man referred to it.

He wanted to know how to make his powers work and hurt the Eye. He hated it.

Rather glare at it and be angry, and get hot faced from that, he turned his glare to the Thin Man. The tall figure only stopped, to bring the smoke stick to his lips with the other hand. He continued marking, and sometimes breathed smoke. It was neat how he did both.

Mono yawned and curled his arms up under his body, and folded his legs up into his coat. He paid close attention to all the different marks the Thin Man was making, except any that involved an Eye. His head was too heavy to keep up, but he could prop his ear on the crook of the Thin Man’s arm and watch the hand mark the page. A line here, a curve there, a sharp corner.

He had so much speek to share with the Thin Man, but the hat and the man had so much busy. Mono couldn’t make sense of anything, but it made the Thin Man happy.

Next

#little nightmares #mono #feral mono #the thin man #thin dad #parent thin man #little nightmares fanfiction #ln #little nightmares fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #little nightmares fluff #single minded mono out here terrorizing the tower man

[grim-faux]

2 _ 17 _ Where is His Hat

First

 The building was falling apart, through the eroded walls and to the unraveling ceiling. Water soaked the floors and swirled within spaces caved beneath the tile, the foundation itself buckled underneath the shelves spaced across the main floor. Some of the lights still worked, a benefit, since it was late in the evening and the outside environment black beneath the brewing storms.

 “Be careful,” the Thin Man cautioned, as the child waded by once more. His own attention fixed on the front counter and the products stashed at the back wall. At random he selected one of the packages and gave it an examination, frowning. Variety would be nice.

 Dismissing the assortment of flavors, he turned away, and noted the child perched on the counter staring at him. The hat this time the former one confiscated, when he had forced negotiated the child into rest. The feather as well, though now it was matted by static and drenched and no longer did much. The boy seemed satisfied to let it ride in the band on his hat.

 The child was gone in a blink, back in the water and sloshing away. The Thin Man hummed to himself, the lamps above pulsed. It had been this way for a while, though the lad was comfortable enough around him. At a distance, at least.

 In short time, the splashing diminished. Either climbing a shelf or some other obstacle, or located a relatively dry space of the floor. The Thin Man drifted easily among the aisles, unhindered by the depth. For Mono, it was knee deep. Still, the liquid concealed sinkholes or perhaps aquafers that could be hazardous if not lethal.

 Most of the viable food stuff was junk stuff and candy treats. Children didn’t typically go for sugary things due to ‘sugar burn’, and the vile sickness that came about. But at times children became desperate, and food was food regardless if it was tolerable.

 Overall, the small shop still carried enough edibles that could stock Mono for a few days, but no more. Staying was not an option, given that anything could come in – the walls so depilated that anything might haphazardly stumble through, or punch through the ceiling. He and the child didn’t stumble through a front door, but a crumpled wall of the building which led into an alleyway. And a television there.

 As soon as the boy recuperated some vigor, he could take a scout around for a secure haven. He would revisit the shop and pilfer the rest of the food, Mono could have a short break from the endless wandering. That might cheer him up.

 For a while the child disappeared, but he was not concerned. Initially, he thought the boy was done following him around and ready to set out on his own. That didn’t happen. Even so, the Thin Man prowled through the stocky shelf arrangement, disinterested in the broken or vandalized items. In a few of these pathways, sat the melted box stuffed to bursting with fresh merchandise, all of it never reaching a shelf.

 It took no time at all to locate the child, given he wasn’t going anywhere. As expected, the boy located a dry segment on one side of the store and was crouched, with his back to the wall, sleeping. Or half sleep. Or not. It is difficult to tell with Mono; the child didn’t stir an ounce when he drew near.

 After drawing a cigarette from his coat, the Thin Man let the boy be and went to check the doors of the shop. He made certain they wouldn’t budge an inch, then, did a walk of the inner store perimeter. Most of the iron bars in the windows held firm against the beating rain, the glass crumbled in sections but what surface retained substance barred out any muddled illumination offered by the clouds. No hope spang eternal for some reading material, given the overall state of the building. With his patrol satisfied he returned to where the child was huddled down, and took a seat on the floor.

 The shop did have a dining zone that remained in bearable condition, but for whatever reason the child picked this particular spot. For the first few hours Mono did some sleep, and the Thin Man is always a little surprised whenever the child awoke. But it was half sleep, thus his presence did not go unheeded. When the boy snapped his head up, it was to give the vicinity a brief search. Once assured all was in order he tucked his head down, and gave a little sigh. Back to half sleep.

 With nothing else to occupy his time, the Thin Man smoked. And almost envied his younger-self’s capacity to just… curl up into his coat. That was one thing he missed dearly when he aged, in the Tower. Some days (?) were worse than others, when his fortitude faltered, and the Eyes of the Flesh wanted to jeer at him more than usual. Wear him down, weaken his resolve. It was an endless contest to see which would blink first, and the Tower knew it all already. Knew every in and out of his existence, every ounce of his vitality. Toyed with him. Cryptic riddles. Mocking. Insinuating it knew more than let on, knew the core of his sum. Hauled him to the brink of his sanity, toward a dark slice of his psyche that was potentially as dangerous to himself as it was lethal to the Tower itself.

 He jarred from his slouch, smacking his back against the wall. The child cringed against his side, still sodden from traipsing through rain, and clinging to his coat. For his merit, Mono hoisted himself up by the coat and clambered onto the Thin Man’s middle. The boy was still soaked through, and still, curled up and dug into the suit, as if the man in the hat would evaporate between his fingers.

 During this, the Thin Man rubbed the dull ache out of his neck. His back was vibrating almost as intensely as the thick vapor threading through the stale building, but he was not able to stand now. Instead, he settled a hand over the child and brushed his thumb along Mono’s neck. The child emitted a muffled whimper and bore down tighter (he should really check for claws) but didn’t vault loose as he was prone to. This at least settled some of his misgivings – he didn’t know if the boy was frightened of him now or simply hated him, over the book incident.

 The child was… distressed, clearly, when he tried to confront him about the book. It was a day or more later when Mono would finally emerge from his nest, for food, which the Thin Man had acquired. Though, he was uncertain if Mono would remain in the residence, upon the desertion of the threat. He left the food beside the dresser within easy reach, and it was uplifting that the boy chose to eat in the open rather horde the food away.

 The Thin Man lingered in the doorway, confident Mono was aware of his presence. It wasn’t about the book, he didn’t care, really. He wasn’t mad. But of all the things available in the dwelling – the doors, the cabinets, the walls, anything at all – why did he chose to destroy a book of His. Was it out of spite? Was it boredom, plain and simple? And what did he do with the pictures, he’s most curious. Any reason would suffice, he didn’t care. He just wanted to know why?

 He rethought ravaging a pointless question. Did the child really need a reason for what he did? And… really, what could the boy say?

 While Mono was preoccupied with choking down the food thing, the Thin Man went to the main entry. He was not expecting the faint chirp out of the blue:

 “Where?”

 Then and there, the Thin Man didn’t know what to think, and very nearly stalled out. He peered back at the child – he was not close – but there all the same. “I need to go… check on some things.” Mono was still shoving the food – he really didn’t know what it was – into his mouth. “You should stay here.”

 The boy swallowed and tipped his head, only one eye peering out from the current hat of the time. “T’n stroll? Leave. T’h come w-fh?” He wasn’t sure if Mono looked anxious because he had to venture out and address him, or due to the prospect of him leaving. He didn’t know. The child clutched the food until it was falling to bits between his fingers. “M’to follow?”

 A bit reluctant, he did open the door to step out. “You don’t have to come. You can go wherever you want.” But the child did inch closer to the doorway, while he stood there indecisive himself.

 “B’t follow? Can keep.”

 He caved and left the door open. Mono followed, as he was prone to do now. Did the boy know no other way? The Thin Man didn’t understand this child. No middle ground. Distress or exasperation.

 Mono slept on without hitch or fidget. It was becoming alarming, the Thin Man was on the verge of panic and closer to intervention. If not for the very shallow breathing, he could mistaken the child for… he’s worried he might’ve fallen into another coma. For what reason, he couldn’t say. Rarely anything Mono did made sense lately. Or, did the child just need that much rest? That in itself was alarming.

 While it wasn’t a crisis, he let the child alone. It only felt like an arduous and long time, because he didn’t have anything to do but wait and smoke. Though this pitiful ounce of good fortune shouldn’t be overlooked, given Mono could’ve easily collapsed in the street. Again.

 It is possibly the second day, or maybe more, he doesn’t keep track anymore, but the child finally stirred. The Thin Man raised his arm to his knees, while the child collected himself. Hat more rumpled now, Mono raised his head and looked around blearily. Only a good portion conscious, but at least he was calm.

 “You’d wake up more if you would get moving.”

 Mono’s response was nestle down. The only difference, he pried his fists free of the coat and tucked his arms against himself. He mumbled something incoherent. “Mh….”

 Not this again. The Thin Man nudged the child off and stood, in a crackly glimmer. He fixed the wrinkles in his coat, and inspected the boy… laying on his side. “Child. You need to eat something. Get up.” Mono made it to his knees, and sat there. Still utterly out of it.

 This was still better than dragging him off the street half dead.

 Getting Mono to wander through the water gave the child a jolt, and he’s mostly fully awake, able to reach the aisles with food and do some foraging. The Thin Man assured himself Mono could scale the platforms without a tumble, before letting him be, to check through the murky pathways as before.

 It had been an unknown span of time, anything could have slunk in without his knowledge. Though he doubted it. The Thin Man needed to stretch out and knead at the bruise in his back. This would be worth it, he could get the child to a suitable shelter and not need settle for whatever doorway the lad happened to collapse in. While patrolling along the outer wall, he perused the outdated objects melting down the slots and slates. Whatever this inventory once was, he cannot discern—

 A sudden but stifled squeal cut through the store. It’s quiet, but he knows it is Mono. The Thin Man reacted immediately, flashing across the rows, some of the items formerly cemented by time and rust toppled off the slates. He streaked to the end of the aisles and addressed the scene.

 A familiar rectangular shape peered back at him, the little rumpled hat seated on the cluttered shelf beside him. The Thin Man gaped, stunned. Hats made sense to him, but he thought the child was beyond the paper bag now. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised. Whenever Mono made speek with his own likeness, it was always topped with one.

 Mono took the bag off and worked at the eye holes a little more, trimming carefully with studious precision, turning the bag this way and that or flipping it around. He checked a few times, assuring that the eye holes lined up. It was looking exactly like the one he wore, when the Thin Man emerged from the television.

 “You don’t need that,” he rumbled, moving closer to the shelf. “Child.”

 Mono mumbled a noise and scooted away, focused settled on his mask. “Fix.” Upon reaching for the paper bag in his hands, the child wrenched away with a little snort and turned his back.

 Sighing, the Thin Man plucked up the hat and held it closer to the boy. “Hats suit you better. And, your little feather.”

 “Feh-th’rrr,” the child muttered, still fixated on the paper bag. “S’maj-ee-kal. H’s fet-err mah-jik g’t tol.” He stashed the paper bag in his coat, then turned to the Thin Man reaching for the hat feather.

 The Thin Man didn’t comment. That mask would resurface soon enough, but Mono was responding to him now. He relinquished the hat and watched the child drop off the shelf, into the shallow water.

 “Fea-therr,” he enunciated, as he followed the child.

 “Feht-err. Feaa-th’r.”

  “No. Feath-Eer.”

 “Fe-thf-RR.”

 Was he doing that on purpose?

 The child elected one aisle to wade down, scanning the surface prospects for anything appealing. Some of the food labels and packaging didn’t endure, but some containers would have safeguarded the contents. With a leap Mono began climbing the slates, checking packages – occasionally stopping to peer through the gloom – other times, he tore plastic or aluminum wrappers apart and sniffed at the contents. Or stuck his tongue to something that looked mostly edible.

 For a while the Thin Man watched, but not directly. He watched the other end of the aisle, keeping Mono in the fringe of his view. If he turned away an inch, he had no doubt the boy would flutter off again.

 “Can you speek, ‘I am Mono’?” At current, the child was digging into a food paste container. He stared at the Thin Man, while licking his fingers. “Mono. Try this speek. I.” The boy slowed at reaching into the container again, just… staring. “Mono. This speek. Can you repeat this? I. Come now. I….”

 At last he ventured, quietly, “I….”

 “Am.”

 “Mm.”

 “No. Aa-Mm.”

 “Mono.”

 “No. Listen now, like this. ‘Aam.”

 “Aam.”

 The static bristled, he brought a hand to his face. Unhindered, the boy rifled through some other package. “What do you want to eat? What have you got there?”

 The child shrugged. He adjusted the container, still working on the food paste, and dug out another handful of unappealing goop. He would be eating faster, if it was not so goopy.

 The Thin Man took a long draw on his cigarette and exhaled. “What sort of food is that? What would you call it?”

 Another shrug. Mono pulled over another open container, some sort of bag, and dumped some of the contents into the partially eaten goop paste.

 “I want speek, child. What sort of food is that? Can you tell me?”

 The child pushed his hat back a margin and stared. He shoved the container a fraction along the shelf edge closer to him, but couldn’t travel further than an inch due to the clutter of packaging and intolerable food things he shoved aside (but not off to the floor). “T’n… share?” he whispered. “Th’s good. N’plenty. Lot’s un—”

 “No, I don’t want that.” He pinched his brow. This child. He did this on purpose, he swore. “Food.” The boy tilted his head. He stood there, hugging the container to his chest. “Can you repeat my speek. I have food.”

 A tentative, “Do’y?”

 He took a long deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Pay attention. Listen. Repeat. This speek. I. Have. Food. I. Have. Food.” This was going nowhere. The boy just… wouldn’t respond. He tried slower this time, “Mono. You know how to do this. Just repeat. I. Have. Foo-ood.”

 “I-h’ve ffh-ood.”

 “Slower.” He took a quick nip of the cigarette, and once more, “I. Have. Food.”

 “D’food.”

 Why? Just why?

 This time, he elected a container from the shelf that looked viable – a jam or jelly – and stepped closer to the boy. “I have food.” He held it up. The boy crouched down and looked from the newly presented container, then to the tall thin man. “I. Will. Give. Food. Can you repeat that speek?”

 The boy huddled there looking bewildered, like his hat was doing acrobatic flips. “Speek?”

 “Just repeat it, child. Repeat what I speek.”

 “N… t’share?” The Thin Man clapped the jar on the shelf beside Mono, and the boy winced aside.

 “My word, child. I don’t want the food.” He stepped back when the boy released his container, and it splashed into the floor below.

 “S’speek share?”

 “We know the same speek. You know this, we’ve been over this.” He clasped his hands over his face. “You just garble everything.” Was it something he did? Did he actually break the child? Did he foul up when he tuned the transmission? For the life of him, he didn’t grasp the problem.

 “M’speek? S’not good?”

 The Thin Man grimaced behind his hands. “It… needs work.”

 “Oh.”

 ‘Oh,’ he says. As if they hadn’t spent a half hour or whatever on this.

 The boy tore open a new package and began stuffing his mouth with the food. He did better with something dry and lighter.

 “All right,” he sighed, through smoke. “Let’s try this. I am tired.” Mono rasped a sound in his throat and scooted away, further back onto the shelf among containers of food. He turned his back to the Thin Man and kept eating. “Child….”

 Mono coughed, then choked out, “Eat.” Then resumed chewing.

 For now, the Thin Man let it go. He imparted, “Be sure to breathe.” And let the boy be.

 The whole mess of linguistics frustrated him to no end. How did it get this bad? By the time he was abandoned in the Tower, he had a firm vocabulary established. The child too, they could carry conversations during their alliance and following the treachery. What had gone wrong? How did he fix this?

 Then, the child would get frustrated and shut down. Wouldn’t push himself to do better, or try to learn. This intolerable child. Completely content to butcher through a mediocre dialect.

 The Thin Man returned to the dry patch of floor where the child rested before, and slid his back against the wall to drop into his slouch. He hoped Mono didn’t shred through all those packages and left some food viable, so he could leave him somewhere for a time. He needed a break from this.

Next

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #mono trying so hard to do the speek #then being told its still very bad

[grim-faux]

2 _ 40 _ The Door That was Shut

First

 Nothing happened for a long time. It was Mono and the Thin Man, hiding from the world. Unless Mono left the dwelling to check the corridors and other places, and went beyond the broken space in the collapsed section of hall.

 Not much could be gathered from the other dwellings. The rooms didn’t have a lot to offer that was interesting, and the vacant residencies endured terrible damage from relentless storms. Trauma in the walls and upper levels redirected the excess of gushing runoff, all of which drilled through hidden cuvees throughout the building. Mono was made aware of this, upon trying to use a vertical climb in a rotted wall, but couldn’t go higher than five planks due to the cascade of water. He wanted to stay dry for some while since he was out of the rain, and trying to curl up in a rest pile was hard when his coat hung on his body like a glove.

 The bulk of his exploration focused on figuring which areas on the reachable (and dry) floors had foods. Most of the dwellings he could get into, either with a teleport leap or using a box or whatever else sat available in the corridor to reach a latch. No Viewers clambered around the rooms, and even better, no televisions.

 Unfortunately, not much good foods either.

 He ate as much as he could at every chance, then took something back for the Thin Man. Of course, the tall thin man never wanted whatever Mono hauled in (he was too picky), but Mono showed him that he was never forgotten.

 As for the Thin Man, he was better. Mono couldn’t figure if the tall thin man was actually hurt, nothing the man in the hat did ever made sense. He did without reason.

 The box of food thing Mono hauled through the main door, the way he always did on his returns. The door itself was tricky and never cooperated, he couldn’t get it shut enough to make him at ease. However! He needed to check on the Thin Man, but he also needed to put the food box away. He dragged the hefty container through the short corridor and into the kitchen place, and stuck it into an open bottom draw. With the other food things he stashed for the man in the hat. Mono never touched them.

 The static prickled up the corridor, preceding the actual appearance of the tall thin man. As the imposing silhouette made his usual lap outside the kitchen, the distressed lights of the room shimmered.

 Mono adjusted the paper bag on his head and scrambled after the disjointed shadow. He stayed close on the Thin Man’s heels, watching the back of his legs. In case he stopped or something. And for some time he followed the Thin Man from-and-into-and-through each of the rooms of the upper floor.

 The Thin Man didn’t show that he searched for anything or something in particular. It was like lost, but the Thin Man couldn’t be lost because Mono was there. At times the tall figure stopped to regard the broken bare ribs of a wall, and touch his chin or his hat. The way Mono did when he puzzled through tricky puzzler tricks and traps. So much quiet think.

 “Hey?” Mono rasped. Did he lose Mono?

 He did notice Mono was there. Sometimes the man in the hat heard his airy calls and turned to him, tilting his head. Mono wanted to tug on his slacks or put his arms up, but he was firstly cautious. He wanted the Thin Man to be okay, but the tall thin man was having thoughts, and many of thoughts at that. The man in the hat didn’t make a sound at Mono, aside from the ever present crackling currents. Without a speek, he would shake his head or touch his hat, and turn to walk away. But Mono would chase.

 Mono did inspect the rooms over himself, while the Thin Man stood watching something or was be distracted by a crack in the floor. It did sometimes make him uneasy, because the Thin Man would typically do the big speek. This was different. The Thin Man wasn’t hurt or broken, he was okay. Something was wrong. Was his head different? The Thin Man knows everything.

 For some time, Mono hid and did his own quiet watch. He squeezed into the space beneath a collapsed cabinet box, and watched the Thin Man come and go from the room. He still wanted to be near the Thin Man, in case he lost Mono and didn’t know where he was. The unknown and mystifying antics of the Thin Man made him want to hide more, and let the Thin Man do his search.

 While in the kitchen, hidden in the corner behind the heap of dismantled cabinets, he heard the Thin Man do his speek.

 “Ï̸̻̼ ̸̬͚̑̾N̷̈ͅê̵͓̩v̶̱̖̓͠e̷͍͔͒r̶̯̾ ̶̰̮̈̚B̸͇̉̋e̶͙̓͝l̵̳̬̾̊i̶̟̱̚͝e̵͍̩̿͑v̵̤̮͑͝ȅ̴͈͕̓d̸̡́ ̶̝͈Ṱ̴͉̌̐h̵̙͂ĭ̵̬͙̓s̴͉͌͝ ̷̰͊̓W̴̫͝o̶̫̊͒u̵͉̚l̷͉̦̓̃d̵͚͑ ̴̲̈̈́B̶̟̽e̵͖̋͠ ̸̢̜̒A̵̰͋ ̷͚̭̕S̷̹̈́i̴̧̩̇m̴͔̰̐p̴̥̀ͅl̶̤̂e̴͉̲͂ ̵̨̺̀͘T̶̗͖͌̐á̶̼̭̿s̸͖̠͊k̶͎̖͂.̸͙̥̉̋ ̶̠͈͂́Ḧ̶̯͙o̴̪͆͜w̸̙̥̃̊ë̶̡̝́v̴͙͋ḛ̶̠̿ŗ̷̊͌!̶͔̚ ̶̳̐͝T̶̻̓h̵͉̤̃̓e̵̠̪̍y̴̫ͅ ̷̤̩̑M̵̯͇̿̋u̷̦͌s̷̛͙t̵̨̮̊ ̴̬̒̚H̸̹̓͜͠ả̸̖̺v̶̫̂̍e̴͔͓͌͒ ̴̩̄̿K̸̟̓̈͜n̵̩̐o̸̥͑w̶̖̠̽̑n̵̳̊ ̶̫͒Š̷̪̭O̵̭͎M̷̧̑É̸̥͇͛T̵̰̫̆H̴͈̹̑͠Í̷͕N̵͚̅G̶͍̐̇!̵͕̝̈́”

 The biz-ee gave the Thin Man such trouble. Going and doing, then come back. At least he could trust Mono to do his job, and that was one thing the Thin Man did not have a fret about.

 Fret. Mono liked that speek. Simple and to the point.

 He used a chunk of plaster to carve off the surface color of the wood, and make a picture speek. He did the doorway with the chair, some cages for children, and a bird. He made the marks good and deep, so they wouldn’t fade for a while. Mono was here, too. Friend bear came to visit too.

 Did She remember Mono? Would She sit somewhere for a span of a while for the rest, and remember that She and Mono traveled, and did pack? It didn’t seem like She could miss him, if She wanted him gone. Mono had confusing and weird thoughts about his old pack, though. The ones that shared speek. Sometimes, he only remembered he hated them for being gone. Yet, he would miss them too.

 After drawing up a strange story speek, Mono crawled out from behind the cabinet stack and climbed onto the countertop. He managed to haul out a cup from the upper cupboard, and get the faucet turned to start the water in the sink.

 However, when he tried to drop off the counter with a full cup, he misjudged the weight in his arms and all that coming down onto his feet. By quick reflex alone, he managed to save most of the liquid from spilling all over him. At the expense of his butt. He had to collect himself quickly and hurry over to the murky space beneath the broken cabinets, since he left the water trickling.

 It took some time, but the sink – with no good drain – flooded over, and water gushed down the bent cabinet doors.

 Mono pushed the bag up and sipped at his cup. For a time, he watched the liquid stretch and gather dust all across the floorboards, and carry the debris of boats along its slick surface. He wondered if the water would be trapped in the kitchen, since there seemed to be spaces in the floor where the liquid seeped into. It might flood the lower level, but not completely. Only certain places would get flooded entirely by rain or faucets, but not usually rooms with broken floors.

 Once his cup was empty, he went to the cabinet and did his best to collect water trickling down the sides. He didn’t get much, but he wasn’t that thirsty.

 He found the Thin Man in the room with the bookshelf, though the man in the hat was not looking at the books, nor near the bookshelf at all. The bent figure slouched against the far wall, legs bent up and the long-long arms draped over his peaked knees. His hat did not raise when Mono approached.

 Mono set the cup down between the Thin Man’s shoes, then, stretched up to tug at one of the fingers dangling. “Psst. Hey.” The Thin Man flicked his hand, but Mono didn’t think he was awake. “Hoi.” The hands drew up and out of reach, the fingers wove together.

 “N̷͇̕o̸̰̎t̸̗̔ ̷̹́n̷̗̂o̸͎̾w̸̨͗,̶̭̈ ̶̩̾b̵̺̌ȯ̷͍y̸̜̏,̷͇̓” the dusty voice croaked. If not for the strange distortion, it might not have buffeted against the vacant walls. “Perhaps later.”

 Mono fixed an obnoxious crease in his paper bag. It was him. He was important. “Aye’mm Mono,” he huffed. “Go see f’look. N’you keep t’safe.” He took a breath and patted the Thin Man’s shin. “Soon f’r back. Not long.” The Thin Man didn’t do anything else or speek. Mono left the cup with him and squeezed out of the jammed door.

 The door to the dwelling had not been shut all the way since Mono came back through the other time, thus, he had no issue squirming out the narrow space. He did make certain the panel and frame shut together as much as possible, before leaving the dwelling.

 Nothing was out of place since his previous scout. All the debris and dust runes on the floor panels rested undisturbed, aside from his own footprints crisscrossing. He started with the undamaged corridor, dashing to the one end and checking the rooms left open after his initial search. Nothing stood out to take stock of, except the intensity of the storm striking at the boarded windows. With his patrol satisfied, he charged off to the other side of the corridor, and crawled beneath the debris to reach the lopsided section of the broken hall. Since this floor appeared altogether and uninteresting, he went ahead and hopped down the stairway to the lower stories.

 The levels of the building lay passive, aside from the usual creaking and threats from the walls. None of the cheery tunes or sporadic buzz from the televisions. He did break out the decayed bottom of a door, and found in the biggest room of the residence, a shattered out but long dead television.

 While everything was calm, he went over to the yawning screen and huddled down in his coat. For some reason, the television reminded him of things from before Her. A broken television. The fire. The rushing water. His packmates, and their cries. Noisy children die.

 He tilted his head, the paper bag leaned against his ear. The Forest. Everything was so confusing, the first nights. The light peered through the overcast clouds and searched through the thick canopy, but by then barely any of the anemic sheets of radiance touched the forest floor. Altogether, the once fierce blaze forgot  what it sought, despite how hard it searched. Even when he traveled with his pack, no one saw much light. Too much light invited death, they found safety in the murk and spots of shadows. No one could see very well, but that was better than being seen.

 The memories were not kind when they came back. He did forget. Left his pack. Left all of them behind and forgot them. But She reminded him. He watched Her get taken. He watched and did nothing.

 Mono crept over to the television and carefully, hefted himself over the jagged spikes of glass and into the hollowed box. He curled up in the bity pieces of wires and plastic teeth, kicking some of the mounds aside to form a more tolerable nest.

 Everything was placid and unmoved. No tinges of static, no clicking of steps.

 He didn’t rest or do half sleep. He needed the alone and quiet time. That’s what the Thin Man needed. Mono wasn’t doing a good job, he was loafing around. This isn’t how biz-ee is done. He didn’t care. For a time, he needed stop.

 No sleep happens. None at all. He wanted to think some things over, compare good thoughts to the bad. Some planning happened, since he was not finding a lot of food on this floor, despite the search he put in already. More scouting and look would happen, but he needed to think beyond that. If there was not much food for himself and the Thin Man, no matter how the Thin Man always said he didn’t need food, then something different had to be done. Eventually, the Thin Man would see Mono was doing everything he could, even if it wasn’t pack. It still meant pack to Mono.

 A mysterious sum of time has gone away, when Mono crawled out of the television. No sleep happened. But he does yawn and stretched some once he was safely extracted. His joints popped and his shoulders tingled, like with static.

 He does a scout through the dwellings, searching rooms and seeking the places for food. It’s not a very interesting scout, but uneventful is good. The smell does put him on edge, the usual reek has tinges of other decay that he knows is not good. In one bathroom – he dropped into from a hole in the wall – he found a creature or some adult, but with a large axe buried into its backside. A sizable and dreadful tool, much too large for Mono to wield himself.

 For a moment he sat on the toilet lid, watching the dead thing. Thankfully, it’s not fresh. Both doors to the bathroom stayed shut, but that doesn’t mean much. Aside from him not having a good way out. Check that, no way out but for the gaping hole in the floor, where a tub or something should be. He climbed down there, cautious in case the whole area beneath had nothing but a perilous drop into a black hungry abyss.

 No such peril claimed him. The lower floor/ceiling sloped down at a bland incline, and he’s able to find a door that leads out into a corridor. He’s a little lost, but he would find the stairway and just go up.

 The scout and search overall didn’t amount to much. If not for taking in that nothing was around, not even the televisions - so safe. But no monsters or Viewers - no food.

 Mono did startle some beetles out of hiding, while poking at empty packages crammed into the back of a pantry closet. They were something to chew on but not enough by a margin, and kind of dry. The beetles reminded him to be cautious, since Viewers were not here, then other dangers had come to lurk.

 It was almost a relief to find the creak stairwell, and drag himself back to the upper floors. He found the familiar landing, the collapsed corridor, all a sight for weary eyes. If he had the vigor, he would’ve tried a leap through the door panel. However, he had run too far and didn’t find anything worth hauling back. The Thin Man didn’t need to know about the beetles.

 Once he secured the door, shut proper this time, he did another search of the rooms. First, he went to the kitchen, and traipsed through the shallow waters gathered. He poked around at the cabinet for a while, prying out a few packages he was iffy on trying. The food was sealed up and he thought it should be good, but it was always a risk. As always, he jumped at every fluttery shift in the shadows within the dank cupboards he needled at.

 The Sinnapede had been such a random escape. If he was not great at teleporting, it might have had him.

 The Thin Man was still in the book room. Mono guessed this was his room. He usually poured so much time into the mark speek, he was befuddled by the Thin Man’s quiet and do nothing.

 This time he didn’t haul in a package of food – in part, he was ashamed he hadn’t brought anything new. It didn’t appear that the man in the hat moved at all, in however long Mono was gone. Probably didn’t do search. That was not good.

 Mono didn’t bother the Thin Man about it. Later. There was no good reason for not check the rooms. The Thin Man insisted it was Mono's job, but Mono couldn't be everywhere, and do all the everything else. It was too big, even for someone as mighty as him.

 When he reached the Thin Man’s shoes, he curled his coat around himself and lay on his ankle. The cutout eye holes watched the silent statue. It was so quiet, if not for the steady hum in the air Mono could almost believe… something big happened while he was gone. He didn’t know what. The Thin Man wasn’t hurt, he was grumpy. He expected the tall thin man to break the silence, say something, or shift. Was sleep. That annoyed Mono, but he couldn’t be here and do scout, and also seek out there. It wouldn’t work.

 Biz-ee. The Thin Man was biz-ee, always. And Mono wouldn’t understand. Or didn’t understand. He wanted to do better for the man in the hat, but it was hard. The man in the hat didn’t think Mono did anything but wrong, and hurt. But the Thin Man knew everything.

 Mono picked himself up and on feathery steps, slipped out of the room. He took the stairs to the lower floor, his space, and gave the rooms an intense go through. Even the bathroom.

 The water from the upper floor found its way down the walls, he guessed. This wasn’t the rain. Water rushed down the blotchy plaster and flooded a portion of the corridor, and the bathroom. Which was fine by Mono, it covered some of the stink from the Sinnapede.

 From there, he returned to the room with the chest and the windowsill. He didn’t want to rest on the floor. But he liked the windowsill anyway, since it was the way out.

 He tucked himself into the furthest corner of the window and lay, with his fingers pressed up under the paper mask. He chewed at a few new splinters while they still stung and worked on a painful hangnail. That is, until his work slowed. He was only a partial way asleep, still somewhat aware of the room and the sounds.

 The rain tapped against the glass, pricking at his senses. Like static. He liked that. Some few and littles things did give him comfort, and he savored those sensations. Bits and pieces that reminded him of rare small places in his memories, where he had sensations other than flee and hide. They gave him warmth for to move further, until he could find a new sheltered pocket of tenderness, to nestle deep-down into and hold tight. Until that smoldering heat fluttered away, like everything else. Let him fall into a dark place with no escape. A bleak and featureless void, bare of thoughts and sensations. 

 He had to be swift and never stop for long. The same applied to good thoughts and rest. Shelter was an illusion. The only certainty was survival, and do that by being the most clever and uncatchable. No other way existed, he learned that well. Survival only granted so many close-calls, and mistakes were always fatal.

 A low quiver slipped out of Mono, and he adjusted his knotted situation in the sill corner. All this think reminded him of Her and the stinging hurt left behind, after how far they went together. He wanted to stop it. Them and Together, it was possible. They could… no, they would!

 “Go there. Make to end.”

 When he made the statement, she glared at him. In much of her usual way, when he suggested something crazy. Where to get food. Place for shelter. How to be warm. Their share speek wasn’t the greatest, but it came along. It was always better when they had paper and colors to work with, convey the speek and fill in blanks.

 He thought, was same. Then, She wanted same as Him. The Tower made the bad happenings and monsters, and he knew that for certain, because it called to Him. To Mono. And when She kept following, Mono thought, she agreed. She wanted to hurt the Tower too. Maybe it called to Her, not the way it called him, but it wanted Her to listen all the same. They would make it hurt, make the Tower stop and go away. To see what happened. To see if anything changed out in the world, if the dangers became less, if the rain would stop. He wanted to see if something different started, maybe a better thing would happen, or they would see something out there become something else. If the Tower was hurt and tricked, the sprawling world around them would only get better. This he felt with an unwavering intensity. Somehow, he knew these things.

 They never reached the Tower. Not in together. Not hand in hand. But he did find Her. He refused to stop and run away! They could have run out of there, he could have shown Her how to make the Transmission listen. None of that happened. She tore out of his life and left without giving a reason. After everything they did as Together. Disappeared. Ran away. Went where he couldn’t follow. Without giving him a Why?

 Somewhere out there, and somehow, he would find Her. He would ask his questions, and get… something. He would catch Her. That he would do.

 The dream haunts come for him, but Mono won’t let them take hold. Breaking from half sleep episodically, he searched the sounds and tinges of gloom for anything that could be out of place. He felt assured the surrounding rooms went undisturbed; no working televisions sat in an obscure corner to attract a random Viewer. The comfort that he will not be surprised does not soothe him, and has the opposite affect. Mono is more high-strung in the absence of a regarded threat, because he cannot plan to escape if he doesn’t know what he might be fleeing from.

 Once he becomes exhausted by the tug-o-war between rest and vague awareness, he settled to sit back from the windowpane and watch the swollen globs smack the dingy glass. Beyond the mottled surface, the vibrant contours of cloud cover swell and roll. The bright hours. In the building across the street, some of the windows  glimmer with a diffused blaze. Then and now, a bedraggled heap waddled behind the barred windows; some creature or shape that is physically present, and not the lamps within cowering against the dull rumble of the storm. He hoped the sky didn’t start roaring and flashing – not that hoping did any good, but it was some happening to ponder over when he did the scout for more foods. A whole prospect he was dreading.

 So intently did he watch beyond the muggy glass, he missed entirely the flutter of the tall-tall silhouette appearing in the room. The radiant light cringed to the abrupt disturbance, but shortly resumed its soft glean. On the drowsy side, Mono snapped his head up and around. He briefly glimpsed back and offered a short smile, then turned back to the glass.

 The reflection tracing the surface didn’t reveal so much of the Thin Man as he clipped closer, despite the pitiful gleam. The window was much too low for the tall thin man to look out comfortably, which is what he seemed intent on. The tall thin man knelt to his knee and folded his arms upon the cracked sill.

 When nothing was said or done for several moments, Mono took the risk and scooched closer to the Thin Man’s arm. He leaned on the stiff fabric and together, they watched the rain form swollen globs across the window surface. The Thin Man chewed on one of his smoke sticks, and fogged up the glass nicely. The haze stayed for some while, plenty of time to do some speek. But Mono didn’t feel much like doing anything, not when the Thin Man came to do company with him. This was better. This was different. He wasn’t certain what to do, but decided it wouldn’t go wrong if he just did what he always did.

 “Would you not like a place all to yourself?” The sudden speek jarred Mono, and his eyes snapped open. “Somewhere that was for you. No one else could have it or take it away. Would you like that?”

 The way the Thin Man said all that was strange. Not that Mono didn’t understand, he could gather enough to make sense what he made speek about. The confusing part was… place, and for. Did the Thin Man mean, for him? Or was speek to self?

 “Hmm?”

 The Thin Man shifted on the sill, and used his free hand to rub at his brow. “Where no one and nothing would find you,” the static crackled. “A place that is for you, and only you could stay there.”

 That still made no sense. A place, and alone. Where no one could find him? It sounded like not a good thing. “Aam place,” he uttered, instead. A thick swell of smoke curled against the inner plane of glass, while some of the vapor escaped through the cracked upper portion.

 “Out there is that somewhere, which holds nothing you will ever need to fear,” the Thin Man muttered. “A secret shelter for you alone, which is protected. A place no being and no person will ever find. No one will bother, nor hurt you, ever again. Would that be nice?”

 No place was safe.

 Mono gaped at the Thin Man, dubious and not amused by this lie. However, it would be fine if the Thin Man was there. That would be good.

 “There y’be? Not wit’out.” He pressed his chin into the fabric of the jacket sleeve, uncaring that his paper bag slipped right off his head. Unwavering, he stared up at the miles away gaze of the Thin Man, while the smoke stick glowed against the long fingers. It is quiet for many minutes.

 “I suppose. For a time, I will be there.”

 Mono swallowed and dipped his head down. Not without the Thin Man. Never without. Him was his. And Mono had to make up for so much.

 “Not. T’always you be.” He pressed his face against the warm suit sleeve and took a mostly sturdy breath. “And keep. T'speek. Has n’keep.”

 The Thin Man adjusted his lean, and Mono tucked into his own coat more. Refusing to raise his eyes to the Thin Man. “I do not recall promising you anything.”

 That was true. Mono couldn’t keep the Thin Man. Not forever. He had to find the beyond of the city, somewhere out there where the wilting skyrises did not pierce the thick boiling clouds. As for the Thin Man, he had his games to play, and be the biz-ee. The Thin Man had to be everywhere, and yet nowhere, all at the same time. Mono was only a small part of the Thin Man’s work. It was impossible to do everything all by ones own lonesome self, but Mono didn’t do enough.

 Mono crawled over the looped arms and curled up by the hand draped over the crook of the Thin Man’s arm. “Aye’m important,” he hissed. He tugged the tail end of his coat in and drew his knees up to his chin.

 The static vibrated with the smoky sigh. “Yes. You are very important.”

 Very important. Mono suppressed his hiccup and chewed on his fingers, searching for a last rogue splinter. He chased the Thin Man. That was how it was. He was so good at it. For that reason, the Thin Man needed Mono to stay and make sure the place was safe, and no dangers could surprise them. It was Mono’s job, because he was brave and so mighty. Even the Tower was frightened of him. That was what the Thin Man told him. Mono killed buildings. He could deal with a stupid Tower.

 If only She knew. If She knew, it would have made no difference. She would see he was still danger. She would have hated him all the more.

 “I will show you where. It shall be yours.”

 Mono focused on one of the buttons against the Thin Man’s jacket. “Mm’chase.” He whined in his throat when a hand cloaked his coiled body, and patted him.

 “That’s my boy.” The Thin Man rose from his stooped posture and shimmered. With a muffled fizz-pop, the imposing silhouette faded entirely from the shrouded touch of the room.

 If he wanted to catch the Thin Man, then Mono should chase now. No later or dawdling about it. He didn’t feel much of do anything right here and so suddenly; looking after the dwelling took so much out of him, and it was his turn for rest. For many minutes, he would still have the Thin Man.

 It was the world to him, whenever he came from search and someone was there. That was important. And company. Regardless, Mono had to remember this wasn’t meant to be always. It was funny for the Thin Man, but nothing made the Thin Man happy. Nothing really meant anything to the man in the hat. Mono knew better, but he wanted...something else. They were going somewhere, and the Thin Man would show him where to stop. Then, Mono would have no one. That was how this was meant to work. Mono thought… no, nothing ever changed. He learned.

 He rolled over, and watched the patterns on the glass squirm downward, meshing and reshaping. He had so much to think about, a great scheme to plan for. It would be okay, and that is all it would be. The Thin Man would be all right, too, and Mono… Mono would find his way. Wherever he could find shelter, whenever he got the chance for stop and rest - all that would be for later, when he knew more about what the Thin Man's quiet think. This place. It wasn’t real, no doubt in his head. The Thin Man knew everything, and as such, knew Mono would have that puzzle figured out. Mono could play this game, and the Thin Man would go and be elsewhere.

 The Thin Man was looking for something, and it was not Mono.

Next

#little nightmares #little nightmares au #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #if this boy could serve the thin man breakfast in bed it would consist of soggy cereal/ burnt toast/ and glass of chocolate milk #mono just trying so hard and has no idea what to do to fix the tall tower man #try adjusting his tv antenna....

[grim-faux]

Chapter Excerpt! Just absolute Mono being adorable child.

__

One activity that pleased Mono, was staying in his space and copying pictures from his speek books onto the walls. He only did a few pictures, mostly of scenery he recognized – trees and a field of grass, or something. Sometimes he marked down the places he liked to hide, such as a broken desk or a little hole in the wall, lost someplace in empty space. It would be nice if he could draw an opening in the wall and climb into that, whenever he needed one. The only time holes appeared in walls was if the boards could be snapped off, or some Viewer or another monster (with a thunder stick) put the hole there.

  Speek of monsters and hiding, somewhere in his musing, Mono got into a stealth game. He hid behind corners, or under the dark spaces of furniture. Not hiding from anything really, but hiding from being seen should some disjointed horror come rooting around. That’s not likely to happen, he knew these rooms, he looked after them well.

  He made a race from one room into the next, the skid up beneath a chair. The dwelling remained void of sounds, aside from his own heartbeat and muffled breathing.

 Nothing lumbered about or bellowed, no abominable intruder crashed into the room. He sheltered from the air and the ugly blotches twisting across the walls. A smolder of pride burned in his chest, despite how inane the whole play act scenario was. He was so wily with escape and disappear, he could practically make himself vanish form the air itself. That skill kept him alive. Everything he did was only for stay alive.

 He scooted from beneath the chair, staying low and creeping on hushed steps. With extreme care, he tested his weight on each floorboard. He wanted to make it to the doorway without a creak, but the warped boards made that feat a near impossibility. He inched to the hallway, first perching by the doorframe and checking for movement through the familiar fringes. The paper bag slipped some on his shoulders, before prowled into the corridor. Upon reaching the next open doorway, he perched low and listened for out of place noises.

 Sometimes he thought about the other children. The one’s that chased. Being extra cautious was a new priority on his errand list. So many questions, no answers. Just angry faces and chase.

 With a shiver, Mono shook his head. He stood up in the bathroom and abandoned the area, rushing through the corridor and back to the big room. The cushion from the sofa received a full tackle, and Mono learned he could hold the lumpy sides and do a barrel roll across the dingy piece of carpet. For a while he fought the cushion, trying to fold it over and sit on it.

  One of the plush toys lay on the other side of the room, dumped behind a crate. He abandoned the cushion to dash over and grab the thing. He pulled the floppy animal out and sat with it, giving it a strict scrutiny – arms, head, chest, legs – he examined ever loose thread, and its frayed seams.

 “Hurt?” he posed, to the mute, inanimate, and very unalive creature. “Wh’rr hurt?” The stuffed toy didn’t complain when he checked its muzzle. He could pull it apart, that wouldn’t matter to it one bit. On the other hand, Mono would not like being pulled apart.

 The tall thin man had two modes. Annoyed and grumpy. Mono hoped that something would eventually cheer up the  man in the hat, but it didn’t accomplish much. Now, Mono wasn’t sure if it would be okay to stop, because the Thin Man went nutty when he did something out of routine. It was hard to figure what the Thin Man wanted.

 Mono left the plush propped by the wall, hidden by the crate. He snuck to the far side of the couch and climbed onto the center cushion, where the Thin Man’s arm sagged. One of the smoke sticks lay between his fingers, a faint trail rising from its end. He glared at the innocent vapor through the gloom, shoulders cinched behind his paper bag and fists in a knot.

 Fire and smoke were an accomplice in losing his pack. All of them. He ran away without a backwards glance. Just like they should have run. Shouldn’t have stopped. Only flee.

 Creeping a little closer to the Thin Man’s wrist, Mono griped at the dingy fabric of the seat cushion with his toes, to keep himself from somersaulting forward. He never got a good look at them while the things were lit, the Thin Man was always busy eating them. It didn’t look like food, especially smoldering like this. He was close enough, and with the contrast of the drafty room, he could detect how warm the stick was. Is that what made the Thin Man warm?

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #children left unattended will go feral #feral mono #thin dads asleep time to get up to no good!

[grim-faux]

2 _ 31 _ Reflections

First 

 The rain slapped against the windowsill, the wood soaked entirely and coming apart by slivers as he shifted. For once, he was working at his fingers and not the soft timber. A particularly stubborn splinter between his fingers refused to emerge, so he sat for the time chewing off callouses.

 Far below in the alley, a pack of children skittered through the gray mist racing boats in a gutter. It’s a group of what might be four, it's difficult to take full stock from the angle and how indistinguishable the shapes are. He knows they are pack because they play a game together and appear mostly organized. Games help children figure out cooperation and interdependence, it’d let them get a grip on skills, and other important things. Playing a small game could also pull them from the hostile world they inhabited, and… he didn’t know how to put it into speek. Reset their heads. Lessened the fatigue of struggle for survive, distanced them from the uncertainties they dealt with constantly. Such as food and safe shelter. It was free and light.

 It would be fun to go out there and meet with the other children. See how they did speek, possibly learn where they came from - if they came from beyond the city or knew nothing but the Pale City. Maybe find out where they planned to go next. Could learn about new dangers or unseen threats. Sometimes kids share foods, but not always, it depended on the situation and how plentiful rations were. He wondered who was winning the game. The boats worked well, bobbing along the deep rapids of the gulley and staying afloat despite the turbulent weather.

 Trying to meet other kids wouldn’t be safe. The Thin Man might frighten the child pack or hurt them. Worst could happen, what if chase and turned them into sad little shadows? True, that didn't always happen, but it did happen to Her. And they were not Mono. Not same. The tall thin man was unpredictable, did without reason, does without knowing the why. In all the time he chased the man in the hat, Mono didn't learn much of his ways or whims. Even for him the game was dangerous. Though the tall thin man usually seemed calm and indifferent, it was always very obvious when  someone something irritated him. The Thin Man did give fair warning.

 He shouldn’t be sitting here watching, but he can’t help it. Even if he can’t pack, he still longed for the together. Share foods and speek, watch for someone and then do sleep. Huddle close when it’s cold, and the weather was punishing. Call for friend, work through a hard puzzle. Trick monsters. The sort of stuff kids did.

 The Thin Man keeps Mono, but that is all. The tall thin man is not child, he is the adult. Maybe once a long-long time ago, the man in the hat was child and did hide, flee from danger, and searched for food, or played games. He might’ve had a pack, or not. All of that means nothing, the Thin Man is adult now, and does not understand cardinal laws about the world. He goes where he wants, does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. The man in the hat has no fears. It’s possible he likes keeping Mono because Mono is a strange child with no friends, and Mono couldn't help but chase the Thin Man.

 Or could be the Thin Man thought Mono was funny child. Not a good kind of funny, but a mean kind. Like with the feather. Mono was funny and sometimes that made the Thin Man happy, but that didn't make Mono happy. The man in the hat liked the few things about Mono that were same, but that was the extent of Mono's frail grasp. So little about company he could get the knack of, the Thin Man always changed the rules. Then again, the Thin Man didn't quite want Mono to begin with; he barely seemed to accept that Mono was.

 The thought was always there, like needing to find foods. Ever present in his mind, nagging when he lost sight of the tall thin man. When the man in the hat left for the fabled "danger-ouse places". This wasn't going to last, and Mono was always nervous when the Thin Man became displeased with his doings.

 “Don’t go there.” “You need sleep.” “Not there, child.” “Where are you?” “How did you manage that?” “Spit that out." "No.” “That is a danger.” “I don’t need that.” “No.” “Stop!” “Stay.” “C̷̥͠o̶̜͑m̷̥͗ë̴̬́ ̴͙̂H̶̞͠ȅ̴͓r̵̲̃ḙ̵̓,̸̳̃ ̶͎̅B̴̠̀o̶͈̾y̶͖͘.̸̯̓”

 Adults. They get mad at the weirdest things. Like now, Mono was uncertain where the Thin Man was inside the whole building they were exploring. The tall thin man was put off about... something or another, and before Mono could collect his wits (after the bad fall) the man in the hat had already faded in a flashy crackle. No sign or indication where he went. As such, Mono began wandering through the twisting corridors, and sneaking around the rundown rooms barely holding together; mind set on food things while his senses remained on full alert.

 The Thin Man seemed more broody than the adults normal, and inclined the quiet, dark glare onto Mono a few times. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, what the tall thin man searched for. It had been some while since Mono saw a smile; not while they strolled through the dismal roads, or broken walls into washed out building interiors. They wandered some long while, the tall thin man might be tired like Mono was. Even if lie and said he wasn't to rest, Mono knew better. The dream haunts got the better of him, despite Mono's best efforts. The Thin Man did not do a good job of look after himself.

 If he could find something interesting, the Thin Man would tell him about it. Maybe. Some things he didn’t like to tell Mono about, but other times Mono could find him a new thing. An interesting thing, which the Thin Man would just tell him all about. Sometimes use the big speek, and Mono would be lost in the rumbling buzz. But it was a good sort of lost.

 That task was hard yet. Not much interested the Thin Man. He liked his game, and Mono was glad not to be alone. They both got something from the company. A win.

 Dull vibrations pulsed in the back of his thoughts, demanding Mono pry his focus from the window, with the children so far away. He dropped off the sill and hurried across the decrepit room, aimed for one doorway wherein the already challenged radiance flashed and dimmed. In short time he reached the portal, right when the figure bent shuffled into the room.

 “Did you get to eat?” The man in the hat stood straight and rubbed at his back.

 Mono rubbed at his own back. When the Thin Man gave him a look, he stopped the motion and shook his head. He showed his empty hands and frowned. If there had been food, the Thin Man would’ve gotten something too.

 With a rustling sigh, the Thin Man resumed his listless stride. To his relief, the man in the hat dismissed the window, and in a distorted flicker, abandoned the room entirely. Before the bulbs winked out in the ceiling, Mono made haste to reach the connecting passage. Soon, he would only have the delicate rap of the Thin Man's heels to offer direction. If the wiring didn't work or fizzled out completely due to the Thin Man's presence, he really had to rely on his hearing and the feel of the air. Mono fancied he was becoming pro at that, regardless the frequent bump or stumble over obscure junk.

 The prolonged search resulted in no meaningful results, nothing worthwhile - aside from more of the same rot, the typical invasion of insects chewing through whatever couldn't crawl away. Mono plucked at the edge of his choice hat, trying to pretend his stomach wasn't growling about the injustice of all this. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was that he last ate. Let alone when. It wasn't important, but it annoyed him thinking he'd gone so long without something.

 Probably why he couldn't stop chewing on his fingers.

 "Don't do that. Get your hand away from your mouth."

 When the Thin Man leaned through the next doorway, Mono stalled long enough to stick his tongue at the hunched figure. He didn't want to chew on the bandage, the wrapping was set cozy and right, and neat. A good sum of time elapsed since his last incident, best not to get the Thin Man all riled up over minor hurts. Mono wanted to avoid another episode.

 By the ground level of the building, the two returned to the endless storms via a collapsed portion of wall. Thankfully, the Thin Man ventured through roads that lay open and mostly whole, fluttering as a wispy shadow among chunks of ruble evicted off the warped high-rises. The man in the hat's travel was never restricted, not like Mono was. A chasm wasn’t a frightening void to the tall thin man; he could blink out and appear on the other side. For Mono in his unrefined capacity, he always had to search out a way across. And FAST. The tall thin man wasn't prone to wait or call.

 Sometimes, the man in the hat did offer to carry Mono, but Mono was frightened by the idea and shied away from the offered hand. What if he was dropped or fell, or any number of things? Mono liked to have something solid under his feet, or in his grasp. The Thin Man was always dissatisfied with the response, but it was a rare time when he didn’t grab Mono. They could always search for another way. The city sprawling held no shortage of paths or crevices, ladders or suspicious braided blanket ropes dangling. Mono was a crafty boy - if he was permitted the time, he would find a clever route. All while ignoring the Thin Man's baleful glower. Like the tall thin man, Mono didn't need anybody. He could go anywhere on his own.

 It is a very long excursion of the city roads, twisted alleys, roving within the buckling walls of splintered skyscrapers crumbling brick by brick. None of the rooms of the many locations offered anything, aside from maybe a new child's hat or intriguing artifact. The rain prattled constantly, sometimes low roads are swamped by the converging 'rivers'. In some durations the travel is intense, but Mono is never dissuaded. Nothing would stop him. The Thin Man sought cached passages through the ruble of buildings, or utilized the televisions to reach a whole other section of the city. The Thin Man was always first, only because he isn’t a television serial murderer.

 Mono tried to catch himself when he flew out. The television is atop a low table and he tumbled, nearly breaking his wrist. The Thin Man is already moving, and Mono doesn't waste a second to catch up. The building isn’t in that bad of shape, compared to those they passed through from the other side of the screen. The walls at least look whole in this room, and it’s much warmer, not so damp or drafty. Maybe shelter here? The man in the hat always decided.

 The Thin Man opened a door, which led into a large corridor with branching archways and impervious shade beyond each. Flashing and glitching the tall figure reappeared, bypassing the first two entries. In his wake, Mono emerged from the doorway, straying near the wall. When he didn't follow immediately, the Thin Man stopped and looked back.

 Mono idled along the wall trailing the peeling wallpaper with his hand, ever cautious when peering into the first open portal he passed. As suspected, perpetual depths greeted his eyes. He angled his gaze up and up at the stony silhouette, his current hat hiding most of his face. With barely a click in his step, the Thin Man pivoted and resumed his elected course. While Mono ducked into the next doorway, down a flight of steps and toward another corridor barely perceivable, if not for the bulb framing the walls with a gray haze. Not long, he would be back. The man in the hat wouldn't miss him.

 The jingle from televisions carried along the enclosed stairwell, all the while Mono stumbled. Beyond the depressed gleam of radiance, more doors and maybe another passage further along. An intermix jabber of voices stacked in conversation, rambling speek with no meaning, and other melodies crooned out. Among the cacophony of swirled sounds, a Viewer burbled at the television it gaped at.

 Most the doors he couldn't bother with, even if he was confident to shift through the wood panel, Mono still preferred to conserve his energy. He couldn't be certain if he would have the vigor to pop back through, given how famished he was. It limited his search, but the scout wouldn't go far if he got stranded somewhere. Much of his searching was reserved for bare-open dwellings, and likely areas long abandoned and long looted of worthwhile treats. If a residency appeared quiet and the door could be opened, he’d invite himself in. Foremost, he kept a lookout for foods, but he didn’t want to get distracted.

 The self-imposed quest was mostly focused in the rooms with beds and dressers, not the kitchens - not yet. The rooms would harbor castoff things from a world abandoned, a world detached from the one he knew so well. On top of dressers or on nightstands, he might locate something he’d never seen before. However, many of the trinkets couldn’t hold his interest or didn’t reveal enough upon first examination, to really spur the risk to haul it to the Thin Man. He wanted to find another one of the bulb things with the toy inside, since that seemed interesting for a try.

 In the big living room of one residence, he did find a remote! Something he’d searched for endlessly, especially now since lone televisions seemed prone to shut off while the Thin Man was around. The Thin Man didn’t like Mono looking at the devices, unless he was watched. Bleh.

 Also lingering around was a Viewer, plastered to the television and gurgling. Needing a break from all the pointless wandering, Mono perched on a tall desk table and hit the switch, causing the television to blink out. This of course, annoyed the Viewer. With a shriek it swung around and searched for the source of this outrage. How DARE! Before it could lock onto him, near invisible in the shadows, Mono would give it back its stupid television. He just wanted to have a little fun for a bit, no harm.

 This went on and on, the Viewer wailing each time the television powered off, Mono seeing how far he was willing to let it get without the willies getting to him. The nice thing about Viewers was the predictability, despite how obsessed they were. And creepy. As long as he had the remote, everything would be fine-

 Unless the controller switch stopped… working. Right when he shut the thing off, and the Viewer had gotten a few paces too many away from its precious entertainment box.

 Yeah it was a really dumb game, but he’d not had fun like that in a while. At least he had a head start, racing out of the room and shooting down into a crawlspace beneath the floorboards of one room. He really mourned the loss of the remote, he could have used that later.

 The lower floors still held together mostly, which meant he should be extra careful while exploring around. There wouldn’t be openings or breaks he could dive into if trouble reared up, but he wasn’t seeing too many of the Viewers either, despite the singing televisions. He was also a little lost, creeping from one dwelling to the next, all the corridors felt the same despite erosion in the surface and carpet. He was thinking it would be a good time to try retracing his steps, before he became too lost. He was sure the upper floors could be reached, even without the stairwell – planks of wood in the crumbling wall or anything, if he searched hard enough.

 In one of the smaller rooms he did a last search of, he encountered some child standing off to the side. Their presence startled him so much, and they looked just about as terrified by his intrusion, he back peddled and floundered over his own feet. He snatched up his hat and managed to lurch into a run, shooting through the break in the lower portion of the door and fleeing down the winding hall.

 Only to freeze up when the Thin Man dipped under the threshold leading into the very corridor he was in. For lack of direction, Mono swayed back and forth.

 “Hey.”

 The Thin Man gave him a look, intense eyes glittering beneath the bill of his hat. He was chewing on one of those burn sticks.

 “What is it? Stumble onto a hazard?” he posed.

 Mono tipped his head, unsure how to go about this. “N’t good. No safe.” And then he stood there like a dolt, trying to hide his eyes a bit beneath the lip of his hat. “Foods?” He began to panic internally, when the Thin Man approached. Not looking at him, but glaring at the broken door just behind him.

 “No! NoNoNoNo!” He tried to get in the tall figures way, but the man in the hat just stepped over him. A soured ache formed in his gut, he wanted to stop the Thin Man but also could see himself getting knocked aside or hurt if he was more careless. “No! No!”

 “For the last time, there is nothing to fear while in my presence,” he grumbled. “I won't tolerate this. Wait there!” With a snap of his wrist the door creaked open, and in a deep bow the man in the hat vanished, winking out in a distorted shadow. A long and eerie pause followed.

 Mono pressed his hands over his eyes and backed away. What did he do to children that were not Mono? Some sleeps the phantom screech She made woke him up. He never heard her do speek like that. A sad little shadow. He didn’t want to hear anyone else scream like that. He wanted to stop the Thin Man, but he was afraid! A cowered! He kept backing away from the void that now existed beyond the doorway. Sorry! He was sorry! He ran away! He tried....

 “Mono.” The Thin Man called, from within. Sounding distant and haunting. “Come here.”

 “What!” he challenged, without a thought. What did the Thin Man want to show him? Did he plan to make an example of the child? Or, did they escape? He hoped they got out.

 Once more, the Thin Man beckoned. “Come here. Now.” When Mono failed to inspire his legs into moving, the Thin Man provided ample motivation. “Î̸̪̜̐̚ ̶͎̲̘̊̆̈́̎̊̊W̶̨̙͓͂̓̽͝i̵͓͖̖̰̞̒͛́̽͜͝l̶͎͚̼͙̐̋̅̿͝l̶̩͇̯̱̋ ̴͈̰̺̑̈́͜Ṅ̷̛̬̜͑̾̕͠o̷̫̭͗̃̅͆̕͝t̷̗͎͖̏̿̉ ̷̱̫̜̠̎̇̈̂̕Č̵͍͚̒̏̌̋a̴̦̤̙̹͌̔̆̆͒͝l̷̩͖͈̈́̐͒l̸͙͚͖̤̫̮̈̍͒͠ ̴͕̗̩͓̳̟̕ Ȁ̸͎̜̫͍̫̠̆̽g̷͇̙͋a̶̢̯̻̋̉i̴̗̣̭̩̒͊́̚ṅ̴̮͉̿̓͘͠.”

 He shuffled towards the doorway, gut tightening the closer he moved to the gaping entry. What was waiting? Would the Thin Man have the child in his grip, struggling and terrified by his uncertain fate? Or would the other kid be cringing in a corner, white with terror? If the man in the hat wanted him to do... something, he would flee. He would!

 When Mono finally inched his way hrough the threshold, his eyes locked immediately on the towering figure standing by the wall. A little flutter of relief swirled in his chest, upon spying both of the long arms crossed over the narrow chest. That relief almost popped, when the Thin Man settled his gaze on him. He tugged the sides of his hat down around his face.

 “There’s no need to be frightened,” he crackled. “It was only your reflection.”

 Baffled, Mono shifted his gaze aside and searched. Reflection? He nearly jolted backwards when he spied the child again, instead, this time he stumbled. What was that! The other child appeared flabbergasted as well as lost. What was this?! No, wait… they were wearing his hat. That was His HAT!

 He kept his distance, glaring. The other child followed his lead. Perfectly mimed. This was very confusing and disconcerting, to have a someone imitate him so perfectly. Something was wrong here.

 “You’ve never seen a real mirror before, have you?” He felt like the Thin Man was mocking him again. Before he realized anything is afoot, he’s being pressed forward by a hand. “It won’t hurt you. Have a look.”

 “No….” Mono tugged the hat down fully over his face, but couldn’t get away from the grasp insisting he address this other fake Mono. He dug his toes into the dirty carpet trying to press back, until the forceful hand withdrew. He collected himself and tugged his hat up, fully prepared to retreat… but he was nearly at the doppelganger. Could make out the color of his coat, the details of his hat, his very dour and annoyed expression.

 It was like staring into a window, and someone you’ve never seen before looked back. But he knew them from somewhere. The surface was a bit dusty, the edges tinged with corrosion, but for the most part the window was intact. They were separated. He crept in closer and closer, teetering on the fringe of flight. The closer he moved, the more defined and clear the outlines of the other child became in the dull light.

 Reaching out cautiously, his palm slapped the cold barrier. Solid. He gazed at the other face gawking back, and very slowly reached up. The copy mimicked faithfully, as he pushed the hat off his head. He tried to recall a time when he had viewed himself in such utter clarity, but had nothing. Unless to check for an injury or something, seeking a reflective surface was redundant. Finding a surface that offered anything but distorted complexions, was something else entirely. He never really stopped to look at himself, take in the face the world hated.

 “It’s you,” the Thin Man rumbled.

 “T’s me. Aam Mono,” he hummed. Tentatively, he reached up and touched at his hair, pushed it one way then parted it the other, ruffled the clumpy strands. He tugged at his ears, studying the curls and overall form. Then, mushed at his cheeks and tugged at his lips, made some faces. So that’s what those looked like. He had to look at his teeth, see the crazy gap the missing tooth made. Neat! The spot in his gum looked ugly but didn't hurt. He twirled around, admiring the fantastic coat and all its stitch work. The collar was bent, so he fixed that. Overall, he was a very good looking Mono.

 A little higher in the window surface, he could observe the Thin Man. Smiling.

 “Come? Look.” He leaned away from the glossy pane, peering up at the man in the hat. Who was no longer smiling.

 “No. I’d rather not… tarnish the reflection.”

 Mono returned his attention to the mirror Mono and looked aside. This didn’t count as anything that would make the Thin Man happy. He sat for a moment and nibbled his fingers, having a think. He was… already bored with the mirror, too. The novelty wore off before he knew it. He was still Mono, the world still hated him. The mirror couldn't tell him why. But....

 “Same,” he murmured. Touching his cheek. “N’same.” He turned to the Thin Man and curled his fingers around his eyes. He offered a smile.

 “That we do.”

 The response kind of caught Mono. But the man in the hat knew everything already, and then didn’t say. “Reason?”

 The Thin Man exhaled a thread of smoke. And shrugged. Otherwise, no explanation or insight was given. Not even an excuse.

 “See… n’me you?”

 Another sigh, but the Thin Man sighed wouldn’t look at Mono. “Saw some of me, in you.”

 “Oh.” He was glad there wasn’t a child in this room. This wasn’t much better, but at least no one else got hurt. He tugged at a thread in the roll of his pant leg. “Tell story?” He is a little disappointed when the Thin Man turned away and bent under the doorframe.

 “No, this is not the time nor place for silly stories.”

 Mono snapped up his hat and climbed to his feet, rushing after the gradually retreating figure. “But story?” He hastened his pace to stay beside the Thin Man, bouncing or skipping between every two or three steps.

 “You won’t like the story, I can tell you that. One day though, it will be your story, and it will hurt.” A trail of smoke left his lips.

 Hurt? So many queries blossomed within his thoughts. Was there a fix? A way to stop hurt? The Thin Man knew, but couldn't fix. Though maybe....

 “But… same, be'fer t'hide. And t'flee. Then you, w’th me. Do t's together....” The Thin Man ceased walking and gave him a full on glare. Mono staggered sideways, halting his panicked speek. This wasn’t good. Asking questions wouldn’t work, and the Thin Man didn’t like repeating himself.

 “M’sorry,” Mono mumbled, smothering his words. The man in the hat didn't like the S speek. “Rr’sad? N’yu not say, f'hurt?” He inched closer to the Thin Man’s shoes and raised his arms. If he wanted to, the Thin Man could hold him. Getting snared or clutched frightened him, the mood of the tall thin man was always strange and mystery, Mono never really knew what might happen. But it might make the man in the hat feel better. That too was an unknown.

 Instead, the Thin Man bent over and ruffled his hair. “Never mind that. Let’s move along, I do not believe there will be much food in this place.”

 Mono is still put off by the dismissiveness, but he shouldn’t have pushed. He wanted answers, but the Thin Man wasn’t happy in speek about those sort of tricky topics. He liked explaining other boring trivial pieces, but not when it came to the important questions. Her. The Tower. Other children. Sad little shadows. The bits and pieces of a different world, with different pictures, and different meanings. It could be like dream haunts, it was taboo to ask friends about them. That seemed like a valid reason, despite how it burned up in Mono to know more, anything. So much same in Mono, but wouldn't utter why. Could other children... be....

 The tall figure renewed his fluid stride, exhaling a stream of vapor as he went. Mono plopped his hat on and followed, as usual. In silence, as typical. Questions hovered in his mind but for now he would stash them aside, until a safer time. Perhaps when they settled in a calm and good area, then the tall thin man would want to do share speek. Could be interested if Mono copied picture speek from a book, and made a different sort of book? That seemed like a fun idea, and then, he could show the Thin Man how to make it work. Even if the Thin Man knew everything already, it would be happy to pretend he found something new for the Thin Man.

 The Thin Man maybe only kept Mono because of all the same. Too much of the same, or maybe not enough. He couldn’t really figure out anything of why, the man in the hat did what he did. All of anything he did, was for himself. Yet, he made Mono a part of that, and that was okay. No one else wanted Mono.

 He thought though, that the Thin Man’s lip twitched. He wasn’t sure what he did, but it faded the more he persisted with queries. Mono asked the hard questions, the ones that made the man in the hat dig for something... else. A place where the answers lay, beneath the questions, shrouded by the purpose of doing a something. The Thin Man didn't like giving answers or reasons, because like dream haunts, he had to find where the answers came from. The Thin Man was a strange and troubled adult, brimming with dark thoughts alongside the difficult unknowns. Adults would always be hostile and angered by anything that didn't belong, but the Thin Man wasn't like that. He was mostly just grumpy.

Next

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #mono nearly failed the mirror test #hes never see an HD mono before

[grim-faux]

27 _ Reasons are Void

 First

 Adults didn’t understand these things. They went out, did whatever they wanted, yelled and broke things, with nothing come of it.

 The world was different for kids. Quiet was essential to get around without trouble, kids didn’t go places without a reason – usually for foods – if foods were found, eat. Move and get away while you could, even if there was no assurance of foods. Sleep when your legs couldn’t carry you.

 Noisy Children Die.

 It was a risk to stop and sleep. Safe didn’t exist. No matter what children did, they were a nuisance and hated. He couldn’t help it if the dumb Viewers wanted televisions. That wasn’t his fault. He had his own problems.

 In the kitchen, he tried to climb a set of drawers with big, easy to hold handles. He failed. Badly. Anyway, dangers would be on the floor, so he checked the cabinets. The small hovels held the fragrance of old forgotten plastic and spoiled boxes, nothing he could chew on. Foods was left in the big room, he didn’t need the bad stuff. It was important to check, make sure nothing was hiding. Unknown dangers.

 Somehow, he got a bottom drawer pulled out all the way. He thought they were stuck. He pulled another slot out and climbed up. He’s only slightly wary of the presence watching from the other end, but he wanted to focus on not falling. The Thin Man didn’t care what he did, but only cared that Mono was not in the desk room when he was there. Locked door. If bothered him there again, might leave forever. Besides, he was—

 “What are you searching for?”

 Mono crouched on the countertop and tipped his head toward the man in the hat, but briefly. Not since the one time, did the Thin Man do much speek. Except for bring foods, he didn’t pay mind to Mono’s doings. Mono didn’t know when he would stop seeing the Thin Man, it would be random and unexpected.

 There might’ve been a good response, but Mono lost the trail of thought completely when his gaze drifted upward. He pried a high cupboard open and stood there, staring at the empty shelves. On impulse he bounced up and caught an inner shelf, but it snapped under his feathery weight and he tumbled out backwards and down to the hard kitchen floor.

 With a huff and a shake of his head, he decided to just go check that big room. The Thin Man came back, but he didn’t know when. He wasn’t keeping an eye on the rooms well enough. Why? It’s important. Something would get in while he is distracted, nothing stopped monsters when they wanted something. Or someone. If he’s careless, they will snatch him and eat.

 The desk room is locked, the Thin Man was done dealing with him. Mono paced in front of the door, tuned to the faint whir of vibrations within. Not for the first time, he wondered why the Thin Man came back. Where did go when leave? Search and seek. Brought foods. So effortless. The man in the hat didn’t have care. Did stuff, anything he wanted.

 Could have other children, not just Mono. Chase children? He wanted ask, but didn’t think the man in the hat would answer. If he did, it likely wouldn’t make sense. Or worse, he might understand.

 He stopped and faced the large door in the gloom, the cracked spaces in its paneling barely visible. All this time, Mono still didn’t know much about the Thin Man. Worthless. So much time, not paying attention. Careless children die.

 Void of options and vitality, he returned to the dresser room and climbed up onto the windowsill. If he was better, it would be a good day to go out. The weather is calm, light rain drizzled the cracked glass. However, he’s not ready. High above the clouds rumbled and build, recharging for an onslaught of sleeting pellets. His head thumped the window as he leaned forward, gazing onto the roads.

 Was there a beyond Pale City? What was way out there, beyond where the sun wept and colors flashed with intensity? Was more cities waiting? More foods and safe places, where he could hide from the grasp of the Thin Man? He fiddled with the bandage on his wrist, plucking at the loose threads.

 Whatever state the bowl of water is in, fouled with foods or stale, he drinks or eats. Moist air rolled through the shattered side of the glass, but it doesn’t feel bad. He’s dry. He can't recall what soaked was like or damp. If he’s a little ambitious he might stick his arm through the opening in the glass and feel the mist. When he is better, it will become his entire world. But he’ll have other things to think about, aside from being soggy all the time. Foods. Hide. Flee. The man in the hat.

 Once he took a chink out of his hunger, he goes back to the desk room and curled up by the door in the corner. Is Thin Man rest? The frequency is low, but he’s certain it is there. If the man in the hat leaves, he can try follow. Go further this time. Reach the end of the hall. But go too far and then losing his way, he doesn’t want to lose the familiar place. Foods. Maybe Thin Man leaves forever. He needs to be better first, he has to flee when it is right, not when it is too soon. Be patient. He tried running the corridor, but it remained daunting. It feels like, when he first reached the door….

 For the while, he tries watch and wait for the Thin Man, but his eyes are heavy. The alertness he gains after sitting up a little more, quickly drained away. The hallway feels very expansive, very familiar. It’s very quiet in this empty end, he can hear his own heartbeat through the stillness.

 The dream haunts are relentless, he can’t escape them. All the children whisked away, each face a smudge in his memories. The eruption of a rifle, the thunder igniting above his head. Lost in endless corridors, shimmering light, and the music crooning. A foreboding and glassy eye observing. A ticking clock, time winding away. He was bad at keeping track of days. The face of someone so important, watching him dangle like a leech on a hook. It’s so awful and agonizing he wants to whine out, but choked instead.

 Noisy. Children. Die.

 His body convulsed, he wasn’t breathing – his hands sit cupped over his mouth and nose. He tried to inhale deep but cautious through his fingers, dots spotted his vision. He blinked slowly snatching at thoughts, struggling to grasp what happened, where he was. Old, tattered carpet dug at his cheek, his limbs a tangled mess under his coat. The subtle weight on his back lifted and static clung thick to the air, hazy.

 The Thin Man. He had not left yet. He will though. When Mono can’t do anything but sit and wait, but what he is waiting for? The illusive answers that mean nothing, and make him feel hollow. He wanted something, but can’t remember anymore.

 Mono shivered and pushed an arm out, across the dingy carpet. He kept one eye open, wary, trying to see beyond the looming shroud that engulfed his vision. Danger was out there, waiting. He must be alert. Half sleep. Careless children die.

 A set of hands scooped him up out of the corner, and he can feel the weight of his body as he sagged. His loose arm lashed out, snaring a cufflink. A tether to let him know when he is left. When he is forgotten. He can hold on, even as he dipped back into the haunt of faces.

 Sometimes he dreams about Her, and it’s not terrible. Her company was so interesting and fun, she was good with speek. She was the first child he stole.

 On the raft they drifted for… he didn’t know how long. Long enough his foods spoiled, and they were so already devastated before they started, so miserable and exhausted by the turmoil of the shack. It was wet and chilled, the water lapped across the door, their feet were icy.

 Mono knew how to keep his feet warm, and he showed Her. Pretzel your legs and then tuck feet into the crook of the knees; it wasn’t the most comfortable, but cold hurt. Still, they lost food. Everything was terrible and awful, he wanted to teach her sorry, but he didn’t want her to think he hit despair too.

 They would be all right. The makeshift raft would find land. They wouldn’t die here. He shared other speek.

 “Shh.”

 “No. Safe,” he whispered. He touched the door. “Safe. All wet. No monsters.” This was uttered below a murmur, barely a rasp. Noisy children die. That was fact.

 He told Her his name. The sound of it, how to get it right, how nice it swept on the air. In return, she offered Her name. She was among a hand and fingers, this much. He decided to count like that for now on. He wanted to know more of her speek, but she was very secretive. He understood. There was so much he wouldn’t share either, it was a great hurt. So painful, and he… it hurt. He saw so much, the haunt of dreams held fine material. No safe places. Only flee.

 But if they stayed together, maybe they could make a safer place. He wanted to stay with her, be her other eyes and ears, help her stay safe and reach high places. He wanted to share speek and food, and space, and perhaps warmth if they could manage. And he wanted something like hope. Something to fight for, that he could share. Share more than necessities. Make it feel like no matter what, they were unstoppable.

 He wouldn’t let anyone stole her, ever again. He promised. Then, broke the promise. The Thin Man was right, it was dumb. He did this. He broke everything.

 If only it was him, and not Her. Why did the Thin Man stole Her? He and the Thin Man were so same, it frightened him. Always knew where he was, no excuse to take other. Her. Not fair. He hated what she did, it wasn’t fair. He hated so much these days. She hated him too. And other kids too, they would learn to hate him. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

 Untangling from the bitter reflections is unpleasant, and he still has a hard time breathing right. His throat is parched by dust, but the relentless chill has run away. One of his hands is locked so tight the fingers are nothing but bone, and the static whirred softly in his head. With a fierce struggle, he managed to get one eye open.

 The Thin Man is slouched beside the dresser, pretty much dwarfing the piece of furniture. One long arm is draped over his knees, the other hand is left to curl over Mono’s back. He might be rest or not, Mono can’t tell. Sometimes he pretended rest.

 It would be nice to shut his eye and surrender to something close to sleep. He’s not so jittery or alarmed, not like when he first awoke curled up under a hand, with no idea where he was or what happened. Aside from the taste of anger and hate in his thoughts. Someone should be watch.

 Carefully, he inched his back up and eased forward on his elbows and knees. It wasn’t difficult tugging his limbs free of the fingers, his hand was useless and numb, but with some effort he managed. Still too laggard with exhaustion and delirium, he tumbled out of the dresser. Void of sound, he wobbled as he crossed the floor, to the entrance of the room. The doorframe was solid enough, he smacked his cheek against the wood as he crouched down and huddled up. He blinked several times, struggling to fight his way out of the gummy thoughts.

 The tenure of static is distracting, but he can push past that. He yawned, several times. He couldn’t yawn enough. If he swayed a bit, the little activity kept him awake. It wasn’t good to move such when watch and wait, but he wasn’t alert enough. When threat came, he would go out the window. Flee. He remembered flee.

 An hour or some long drawn out time later, the Thin Man shifted. Mono twisted around, though he was impartial and bludgeoned by fatigue. He yawned. The man in the hat uncoiled and looked his way.

 “What are you doing?”

 Does he know nothing? “Watch,” he croaked. He needed water. Some good, sweet water. He caught himself before he could topple forward like a dolt.

 “For?” The Thin Man sounded very confused, or annoyed.

 Mono barely managed a, “Mmh.” He left the doorway, fluffing out his coat. He wasn’t paying attention of where he was going, and toppled over one of the Thin Man’s outstretched legs.

 “Mono….”

 “Bhh.” Even he wasn’t sure what he tried to convey, he was already dragging himself up the drawer side and flopped down within. He thought the Thin Man was looking at him but he was already dragged into the relentless mirages of the terrible things he ran from. It hurt so much to revisit the pain, but that is good. He still feels things. That’s a good sign.

 When the desk room is open and vacant, it is checked though same as the other rooms. If he was in a particular mood, he would curl up on the chair and sleep. Sometimes, he dreamed about a chair in a room. It was always a serene and invigorating sleep, the chair calm and friendly – despite his history with doors and the thin men behind them, sitting in chairs. The chair never hurt him, and seemed to banish the awful memories while he was in its company. The chair was waiting for him. The chair would never leave him.

 But the chair was just a chair, and he hated it for that.

 Thus, he would leave the desk room and return to the dresser room. He sits in the windowsill, partially watching the reflections in the sheen of glass, and sometimes gazing at the sky. Or look at the streets below, glossy and endless, even when there is no rain. He missed the rain, the soft patter and vibrations on the glass, like static. He hated… how easy it was to miss something he hated. Like Six. He hated Her. He hated he missed Her, too. He wanted Her back. He wasn’t sure what he would do, if caught Her again. Shove Her, maybe. He didn’t want to hurt Her, but he also didn’t want to not do anything. It was perplexing, and he hurt.

 If he felt listless, he’d slink down into the corner and huddled up. Try and keep his eyes open. He’d tug the edges of his coat, feeling the odd sensation of not so grimy. It was still muggy, but some of the stains deserted the fibers. It smelled something near dingy smoke, or muddy soot from a fireplace. He snuggled down into a bundle of warmth and sagged his jaw on his knee, so he could watch over the door. One eye was sort of open, but that would quickly change. His head was so heavy.

 Time blurred, he didn’t know when. It was a rare instance he folded over, detached from his surroundings and struggled with focus. He promised himself it wasn’t really sleeping. He drifted between vague corridoes and the dull room, the shapes around him shifting and twisting like buildings in a dream he never knew he had. The creeping picks at his spine, but he doesn’t give it much credit. He is hurt.

 The Thin Man set a swollen plush bird toy in front of his face.

 Mono doesn’t know what to make of these items, but there are at least nine or... something, varied toys… he’s not certain, scattered around the dresser room. They stay, but he won't touch them ever. He shakes out the sleep and goes to run another lap of the rooms. He might’ve forgotten to eat, or he might have eaten earlier. He doesn’t keep track of those things. Let alone, where the Thin Man went when he disappeared from the dresser room. Mono thinks it was a dream, but the toy bird is new. He’s very puzzled. The man in the hat keeps bringing toys. They mean he will not return, but he keeps bringing them.

 Then Mono recognized that the Thin Man wasn’t returning from wherever he went to collect foods. The man in the hat stayed somewhere else, but came in to leave foods and look at Mono. That’s what was happening. It made sense, why the empty rooms made him so nervous. The Thin Man didn’t plan leave, he was already gone. Mono was confused by the endless lapses, because Thin Man was not here. He stopped in sometimes, but not always.

 Mono was in the kitchen, sitting in a cupboard and having a think. He tried to understand, if the Thin Man came to stop less or less. Gone longer, then spent less time with him? Not that it mattered to Mono, but he was left. The space beyond the little cupboard, seemed much larger and more expansive than previously. As if this was his first time trekking through the empty quarters. Everything was foreign and beyond him.

 He went back to the kitchen and crawled into one of the cabinets. It was completely dark inside, no windows and not enough light pilfered through the cracks. It smelled musty with stale boxes of ancient crackers, whatever else. This all made sense now. How long did it take to figure out? He was so stupid. It was obvious. Would he even realize the Thin Man was gone, when stopped from come? The birdie plush was the last thing, and it was a while since he sensed the man in the hat. He was so bad at keeping track of days….

 With a deep breath, he sighed. Time was nonexistent. He stayed curled in the dark, tight cupboard feeling nothing but… Mono. If he left and flee, would Thin Man chase? If couldn’t flee, Thin Man might be bored. These games, the wait, not knowing. Hated it. He hated so much these days. He chewed on his sleeve, it tasted terrible, but… it made things less overwhelming. He could stay in this cupboard. The dresser room was too dangerous, he didn’t need to watch and wait. This is a good hide place. Much better than a corner in a big open room. Stupid. He could’ve been found.

 When he is ready, he’ll leave the dark space and check the area once more. They needed to be looked through with more care, he couldn’t risk letting some danger lurk. Take him while half sleep. If chased, he would go to the dresser room. Escape out window, that was safest. Nothing could follow, too perilous. But not yet, not even as his body ached and he’s certain he should go to the windowsill for eats. The water is foul, he would have to reach the faucet in the bathroom.

 The air changed, only a tiny bit. He remained very still, very quiet, invisible in his nonexistence. Something deadly might be beyond the crooked, rotten wood panel, but he doesn’t think so. This isn’t the first time, he doesn’t think. He needed more rest, then escape. Probably. It wouldn’t be a long flee.

 Pale light invaded the portal of the cabinet, and Mono is so taken he shuffled into the corner. A face glared in, blotting out the frail radiance that prior filled the space, the static thrummed.

 “What are you doing in there?”

 Mono isn’t confident on what to say, let alone what is being asked. Did he not want him hiding? Always knew where he was, that wasn’t the problem. Hide was crucial to survive. Could be, the man in the hat wanted to see him out, where wasn’t hide. That was very dispiriting. And not safe.

 He shrugged, very stiffly. The Thin Man didn’t care for that response.

 “Scared?” he tried. “Afraid?” For lack of a better response, Mono nodded. “Of…?”

 How to say? It didn’t matter what, the man in the hat wouldn’t care. Threat was always out there, searching. The Thin Man waited, frustration carving his dark features. He would leave. What to say? What does the Thin Man do if can’t explain? Leave. Asking questions, the worst questions. It’s not safe, has to hide. Danger will find him, it always does. He can’t explain. Adults don’t understand. Nothing frightened them.

 He wasn’t sure if he could make himself smaller, or if he had already expelled all the empty space around his form and was only a tangled bundle of limbs. “It… wait. Out.” He looked aside. If something caught him, it would take and eat. He should’ve been paying attention, the Thin Man shouldn’t have surprised him like this. Not good.

 The Thin Man nodded, and shut the door of the cupboard. A dry snap and crackle faded out, announcing a sharp shift through the air.

 Mono was swift to throw the door open and tumbled out. He trudged to his feet, legs agonized from being cramped up for who knows how long. He barreled around the corner of the kitchen, tracking the rapid flash of the figure. Up until he vanished at the doorway.

 From within the door jam, the lock clicked. He stood there, chest heaving. The Thin Man was gone. And he was barred from follow. He was locked away.

 His fists clenched at his sides, he fought with his racing thoughts, trying to grapple with what happened. The Thin Man… leave. There were foods, plenty. But now he is alone, and it wasn’t fair. This was what always happened. He couldn’t follow… couldn’t keep up. The leap, without even thinking, not a doubt in his head. It wasn’t fair. He was hurt. No one wanted him. He couldn’t… do enough.

 He was an idiot. Kids like him die. His whole pack, snatched. Every last one. Except him. Lucky.

 Wobbling, he made it to the nightstand and leaned on the leg. It didn’t keep him from crumpling to floor, but he held onto it nonetheless, hugging the life out of it. Maybe the Thin Man returned, or searched for something. Couldn't give answer. Not really hurt. The man in the hat was annoyed, couldn't bother with silly childish fears. No point in this, it's stupid.

 The light shifted throughout the big room. Imposing shadows became deep pools, and Mono cradled himself in a thin veil of color. He didn’t bother dragging off to the dresser room, or the desk room, or the cupboard. He hoped he would wake up in the dresser, with that odd wheely toy. He does not. He is left and alone, with treasures and food. But he is unwanted and forgotten.

 The big room is usually stale and flat. Around him, the walls seemed to creak and snicker. He doesn’t care. He’s still trying to figure out what happened, how to fix this. Then he recalled, there’s nothing to fix. He was just going to be here, until he could climb out the window in the dresser room. Or until something crashed through the entry door, and inspired him to flee. 

 He rolled over and watched the windows on the one side of the room. Nothing in the frame looked remarkable, all showed the same dismal scenery of clouds. The moon was out there somewhere, but he could scarcely recall what it looked like. Unconsciously he untangled a hand from his coat and touched his head, feeling for something he'd lost. It hurts, but the hurt means he still feels. It doesn't seem like it, but that is a good thing. He shut his eyes and drifted back to the memories that slashed through his dreams; he sought gentle places in the scenery of the forest, the canopy of leaves swaying. How good it felt to be so lost but at the same time found. There was a strange peace in that awful place. Like a chair in—

 With a jolt he launched up and scurried to the furthest corner of the room, at immediate alert upon his senses spiking. It was too late to reach the dresser room, he had to hide and let the threat find something interesting. Stay still, be calm. The latch unwound in the door, and the panel swept open.

 Only the Thin Man entered. He shut the door at his back, looking annoyed or something. Came back, but from where? What happen? This is concerning and baffling to Mono, and his senses remain rigid. He can't decide if it's safe or not. Nor, does he know how long the man in the hat was gone for.

 Cautious and wary, he inched out from the fringe of gloom, creeping alongside the ratty furniture. When he was near enough, he scooted more out toward the towering shape and reached up. Very aware the Thin Man was more likely to dismiss him and go on his way.

 A little flash of light glittered under the rim of the hat, as the Thin Man looked his way.

 “What?”

 He dropped his arms and took a breath, sighing. He couldn’t explain it, he wanted to be picked up. Even if it hurt. Even if the Thin Man couldn’t stand him, and only wanted to hurt, it was okay. This would end. The man in the hat would get bored with the strange child and stop leaving foods. He would be with nothing, lost in dark mazes, scrambling for scraps. This is what he accepted, and nothing else would matter. To an extent, the Thin Man understood too, but he didn't care; he didn't need anything.

 Once more, Mono raised his arms, resolute and determined. It was a very strange thing to do, request something so dangerous, so harmful to his wellbeing.

 At last The Thin Man recognized his appeal, and with a huff reached down. It was terrifying allowing a hand to wrap around his chest, forfeit all chance for escape. There’s no telling what would happen. If he was not handled carefully, a snapped rib was very possible – that would stifle struggling. He knew not to trust the Thin Man, but funny enough, he didn’t care. It would be okay.

 He was a little taken when the Thin Man cupped his hands around him and tucked him to his chest. Mono clenched the knit of his suit and tensed. He was going to be alone again. He didn’t care about the nightmares, or the horrible things that chased him, or what they could do if they caught him. He hated being alone. It killed him faster than a knife could.

 He hated so many things these days. He hated so much.

 “You are not okay.”

 His fists shook against the fabric. He would be okay. He knew better. Without meaning to, he mumbled something.

 “Come again?”

 A choked gurgled knotted up his throat. “Leave. Like….” He couldn’t pronounce the name, with his face smushed against the Thin Man’s shirt. The static hummed through his ears, he fought not to be louder than it.

 “Ah. Well, as I recall, you saw fit to run on your own. Did you not?”

 Speek abandoned him, and Mono groaned. He did this. Just like Her. So same. Afraid of unknown, so ran. Was right, was good? He does not know. She left him. He left, too. Escape. It was his fault. He didn’t understand the Thin Man, he didn’t understand anything. What was he supposed to do?

 The Thin Man was moving. His gradual stride took them through the corridor. “What if we went somewhere? After you rested? Hmm? Leave? Go Place. Together? Go?”

 Lie. The Thin Man will go somewhere, and he will follow, then, the Thin Man will be gone. That’s how it worked. He was tired. Hurt. It wouldn’t be hard to leave him. He wanted to leave, too. He wanted to follow.

 He asked anyway. “St… roooll?” It was a nice thought. Leave room. Go. He spent so long looking out of the window, he wanted to be out there. If take, he will leave. No return. Go. Escape.

 “I can show you what I’ve seen. Would you like that?”

 A wet whimper spilled from his throat before he could smother it. He shivered and choked, tears burned his cheeks. He couldn’t keep quiet enough, so buried his face deeper into the knit of the suit. He wanted something, but didn’t understand what he wanted. He didn’t want to wake up alone, he didn’t want a lie. He didn’t want to break things or hurt kids, or be so weak he could only flee. He wanted so much not to have to run from a disaster, feeling lost and angry.

 Fingers pressed around his shoulders, and he tried to stifle the ugly, pitiful sounds he was making. “It’s all right, Mono. I won’t go anywhere, unless you send me away. I’ve got you.”

 He wanted that. He wanted to believe that was true, that it was possible. He tried to make his words clean and loud enough, despite how he shook. “Caught?” The static rustled.

 “Yes. And now, you are mine.”

 They stopped moving. Mono peeked his eye out and could see they were in the room with the desk and chair. This time, the door was open. If he wanted to, he could leave. But… he wanted this. If the world hated him and he was destined to fail, then he wanted the Thin Man to keep him. This couldn’t last, but he was too hurt and so very-very tired. This could be another game, but he wouldn’t be disappointed. He promised. If the door was open and the Thin Man gone, then he too, would leave and never look back.

 Until then, he would let his mind rest. The tears ached and his face was scalded, but it had been ages since he cried like this. A finger brushed his shoulder, and he didn’t think he winced at all. He burrowed his face against the suit and made certain to have a firm grip on the stiff fiber. He didn’t have a full grasp of utter exhaustion, not like how it felt to fall out of his body and dive into a place of deep sleep. He fell so far beneath the haunts of his dreams, he might've been dead.

Next

#little nightmares #little nightmares fanfiction #little nightmares fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #mono #the thin man #mono is NOT okay #feral mono #thin dad #little nightmares hurt comfort

[grim-faux]

2 _ 29 _ The Funeral

First

TW For mild mention of blood and tooth loss 

Not sleeping was the norm. How bothersome a need it was, sometimes he doubted it was really all that necessary. More of a hazard than anything, to be so out of touch with the world for… for… for however long it took. He didn’t know. All he knew was, when your legs couldn’t carry you, you found a place to nest down. In a pack everyone nested together, someone kept watch and made sure the dream haunts didn’t get too horrible.

 Some kids, like Mono, did the half sleep. It was hard to get right, since all the work and bits of scavenged food contributed to utter exhaustion. Most children would only risk a full sleep if they thought they would likely die anyway. Some kids were just nuts. The lack of full sleep and mix of dream haunts made children go off the deep end.

 One time Mono saw a kid go off the deep end. It was back when he was so tiny, he could get overlooked by some monsters. He barely knew what he was let alone who he was. The world was a wild and ruthless place, and it all swirled around his barely coherent head where everything was hostile and depraved. Or hungry.

 It was the first pack he knew. Older kid and Smaller kid. He was in the middle in height and experience. They perched in a lump on a windowsill of some hut, he thought it was a hut. It was forever ago. Older kid made the decisions, and he was big, and he was trying to decide how to get out of the window with all of them together. Mono was only a little bigger than Smaller kid, so he took it upon himself to keep the boy (or girl? He really didn’t know) from falling. The thing putting a hitch in the plan was an adult far below, sitting on a makeshift bench, warming its hands on a fire sprouting from a tall canister.

 Junk lay everywhere, metal siding and lumber, tall canister filled with more stuff. Furniture, old ovens and crushed refrigerators, more metal and jagged things between those. No shortage of hiding spaces, but no direction either. Some of the piled high debris looked on the verge of collapse, if the adult was intent enough. A pyramid of mix and matched domestic refuse collapsed, trapping them in this space. They wanted out.

 The weirdest noise came from below, but due to the height and the jumbled terrain it was impossible to fix the actual place. At the time, Mono had never heard such a racket.

 Then this sticky figure tore out from a wedge among piles of cement and darted across the ruined floor, to the adult.

 Made a beeline across ruble, climbed a steep incline. To reach the adult.

 The memory jarred Mono a bit. He rubbed at his eyes, scrubbing out the gummy sensation from another yawn. Despite the rain, he felt very dry and muggy. While the Thin Man paused to study the large speek pictures on a standing board, he went to the curbside and sipped at the water in the gutter. It looked mostly clean, the unyielding rain ran fast and cold.

 His hat tipped off and he had to snatch it before the rapids swept it away. When he sprang back up, the Thin Man was already striding away with a swell of gray vapor trailing his hat. It was always a struggle to keep pace with the Thin Man, especially when he flashed ahead. Sometimes Mono could skip across open chasms or skip through barriers of ruble, but that wore him down.

 In a flicker, the Thin Man reappeared within the other side of a broken-out window. Some suitcases and a crate gave Mono the boost, allowing him to conserve his energy. He tried not to overuse the teleporting, even if the Thin Man insisted he needed practice. It was most reliable when he wasn’t so tuckered out, but his head had cleared up since the last stop and rest spot.

 The building was one of the food places. She called it restaurant. It was a kitchen, or a place attached to a kitchen. Foods? Stop and eat?

 He hurried over to the Thin Man and grabbed his ankle. The tall figure dropped his scrutiny of the many tables and toppled chairs, to check with him.

 “Hey,” Mono whispered. He bounced on his tiptoes and pointed to the big counter. The kitchen and foods. Check for foods. “The eats.” Over there.

 The Thin Man averted his gaze and kept walking. The actual door of the diner place was beside another larger window, where a long counter stretched with a line of chairs anchored to the floor.

 Too dangerous, Mono supposed. The tall thin man preferred the quiet rooms with lots of shadows and furniture, places for Mono to hide and feel safe. He didn’t like the incidents.

 While the Thin Man flickered and faded out, Mono was left to… find a…. He looked around a bit. Beneath a table, he located a bucket. He carried it over to the anchored chairs, plopped it down and climbed on top. Once he found a broken portion of the window he could crawl out of, he checked the sidewalk. As always, the Thin Man moved fast in his methodical pace, he was halfway down the city block and blurred with the heavy mist of rainfall.

 A few times, the Thin Man did speek like they were going someplace specific. The man in the hat was always away, going somewhere and finding food. Usually a toy. He didn’t grasp what a place would be, where he would want to stay. Mono wouldn’t stay anywhere. Not forever, anyway. Even the Thin Man admitted it wasn’t a good idea, to keep one place.

 By the time he caught up with the Thin Man, he was well out of breath and gasping on the heavy air. At least it looked like the sidewalk was clear for a distance. He stole a deep breath and yawned. His face hurt from all this yawning.

 Most likely, the man in the hat wanted the right place to nest. It was funny to think of an adult nesting, but the musing conjured up twisted thoughts of the Hunter and his nightmare world of rot and strange fake pack. Fake. Fake. F̶͔͋ā̶̧͌̄̍̚k̷̖̹̜̺̈́̎̃̾ẻ̶͚̬͔̰͐.

 Crack!

 Mono spat blood. His hands slapped over his mouth and he choked, more blood and a little something piece. Drawing his hands back, he stared at the vibrant color in his palm and the broken bit. Raindrops cleared some of the color, and he could see more of his skin. Along with the piece. His tooth!

 It hurt and he was bleeding pretty good. What did he do? What happened? He snapped his teeth together, and the tooth cracked! He’d been so careful, chewing the best that he could.

 The Thin Man! He was getting away, crossing the road.

 Mono chased, despite not getting his second wind. The Thin Man won’t wait. He needed to stop though, he had to check the damage while everything was calm. He had to fix this somehow. The tooth was broke clean away, he tried to look at the thing while he ran. This was stupid. And he had a dumb gap where his tooth should be, blood all over his gums. How did teeth work? Glue? Sticky tape?

 At current, nothing could be done with the tooth. He jammed it in his pocket and focused on keeping pace with the tall thin man.

 On the other side of the road opened a narrow alley, which appeared to suit the Thin Man’s direction. The debris wasn’t out of control, the usual boxes and dumpsters from the business which had access to the passage. Mono still didn’t like alleys and tried to keep close to the tall figure; whatever radiance spared by the canopy was all but shunned from, among the imposing buildings huddled in.

 The few barriers that came about, one being a fence and the other a wide gap, Mono managed on his own. When it came to the sizable gap, which he had no confidence in teleporting across as the Thin Man did, he had to explore his surroundings. And fast. There was the ladder of a fire escape, and from there a long vertical pole anchored to the side of the building. A portion of the building was indeed hollowed and ruined, by the formation of the chasm. However, a long cable dangled a few feet down, from some window, prompting Mono to take a leap of faith.

 All went well enough, if not panic inducing. Mono made it back to the buckled floor of the alley and rushed after the man in the hat. If he asked, maybe the Thin Man would chase him again? Or was busy with other children? The man in the hat just didn’t like to chase Mono.

 When he reached the alley end, he looked out before taking the full run after the tall thin man. He wondered where they would be going, or when they would reach; he needed sit and quiet. The row of skyscrapers on this side of the block appeared lamenting their stature and drooped dangerously backwards. A Viewer crashed to the road and lay, shards of glass glittering in its scalp and face.

 Mono tilted his head far back and examined the heights, and the rain shimmering. He turned a little and winced when he spied the Thin Man glaring at him, a thick plume of vapor obscuring his eyes. Tucking his head low, Mono began to move closer.

 “W̷̹̌h̶̜̑ã̴̤t̶͇͐ ̶̟̑H̵̘͝a̵̗̾p̶̗͘p̸̥͋ḛ̸̏n̴̺̽ḙ̶͋d̴̹̀?̵͛ͅ”

 Mono stalled and tightened his shoulders. He wasn’t careful. Hurt himself again. He used the bandage on his arm to wipe the blood from his chin. “Aam safe,” he rasped. “S’okay.”

 “M̶̤̀ô̸̳n̸̩̓o̴̟̊.̸̭̉.̷̱̄.̶̝͛.̸͖̌” The voice crackled. “A̴̘̔ȑ̴̜è̶̡ ̷̛͔Y̶̙͆o̸̙͠u̶̩͛ ̶̡̏L̸̩î̴͚c̶̢̏k̸̩̈i̸͚̓n̷͜͝ḡ̵̬ ̸̛̭T̸̜͗ẖ̴̂a̵̰͒t̷̪̀ ̵̖́Ẃ̶̼ô̸̝u̴̠̒ṋ̵̌d̸̺̚ ̴̈́͜Ȁ̵̗g̵̋ͅȁ̵̦i̶͇̍ņ̸̕?̵̢̅”

 He shook his head. That was the truth. “Not.” He held up his arm, showing the soaked bandage. “S’not. Th’s good.”

 That wasn’t good enough for the Thin Man. The tall, narrow shadow stretched as he closed in on Mono. In response, Mono skittered backwards by a few steps, but resisted a full-on retreat. The bandaged arm he held to its fullest extent, as if to answer all the perplexities in the Thin Man’s hat. Alas, there were no good enough answers for the Thin Man.

 The Thin Man knelt on one knee and held out his hands. “Let me see.”

 Mono shook his head and withdrew further. “Not. Aam right.”

 “W̴̝̋h̴̰͠e̷͉r̶̨͝ê̶͔ ̷͆ͅD̶̲̿i̸͉̚d̷͓͠ ̴͖̔T̷̨͝h̵͍͐a̸̗͆t̶͙̽ ̴̲̽B̴͔͠l̴̞̀ō̶ͅö̸̠́d̴͚̔ ̷͇͘C̶̯͘o̵͍͝m̷̪͆e̶̞͒ ̸̰̿F̸̻͝r̶̩̚ŏ̴̫m̵̱͒?̷̹̏ I need to know.” He reached out further. “Last warning.”

 With no alternatives and full of angry thoughts, Mono hissed.

 And was unceremoniously snatched off the sidewalk. His hat toppled off his head, and he dearly missed it. This time he didn’t fuss or thrash, Mono hung inert as the fingers pulled at his arms and prodded his chest, turning him this or that way, nudging at his ribs and spine. There wasn’t much he could do, but avert his face and let the Thin Man satisfy his curiosity.

 It reminded him of the fake children.

 “W̸͓͘h̵͎̎e̵̳̕ṛ̵̿ě̸̥ ̶̺̕A̵͈̚r̴̤̓e̴̟͊ ̶͍̅Y̶͉̅o̶̯͆û̸͉ ̶͍̓H̸͈͐u̷̦r̶̭͝t̶̹?̶̤”

 The one on the other side of the gate. She used the key to carve open a frog. He hated the fake children.

 “C̷̫͛ǫ̴̆ǫ̵́p̸̰̍è̷̥r̸̭̊â̴̮ṱ̴̽e̶̲͑ ̶̙̓W̶͇̽i̷̛͙ť̷͎h̵̦͊ ̶̗̆M̸̳͊e̷̫̊ ̶̺̐Ȍ̶ͅr̴͚̃ ̵̼͆İ̶̥'̶̪̽l̵̼̎l̷̯̚ ̷̈ͅG̵̦̚i̷̗̓v̵̼̾ȅ̶̝ ̴͇̎Y̵̜͠o̷̮̊u̸͑ͅ ̷̡̃S̴̉͜o̷̫̕m̴̻e̴̼̒ẗ̵̠́h̷͕̉i̵͔͐n̶̳͋g̴̫͝ ̷͕̇T̴̞̐o̸͔̓ ̷̭͐W̷̧̍h̵̩̔ḭ̷̀m̵̟̈́p̷̗̋ę̷̎r̸̼̃ ̵̘̑A̵͙̋b̸͓̀o̵͓u̴̙̿t̵̝̉.̸̠̃”

 They were creepy and did frightening things to each other. She looked so happy, ripping out the inside parts. Like the Hunter. Take stuff out, put other stuff in. The Thin Man was prying his coat off. He didn’t care.

 “D̴͍̊i̷͍͠d̶̯̿ ̵̕ͅY̴̠̑ȍ̶̥ŭ̵͉ ̵̊͜F̴͝ͅa̸͕̾l̸̜̍ļ̶͆?̸͉̈́ Did you hit your side? Where does it hurt? What is the matter?”

 If the man in the hat wasn’t careful, he was going to break him. Or rip his arm off. But after struggling with his listless arms, Mono was liberated of one fantastic coat. He wanted it back, but the Thin Man wanted it more. Keeping his breathing even was becoming difficult, he was soggy and very tried, and very hungry too. He wanted to be in a snug space in the wall, or fitted into a cupboard with some clothing. Sleeping.

 “Ĭ̸̖ ̶̡͋D̷̛̩ỏ̷̹ ̸̡̊N̵̺͠o̸͙͆ṭ̷͝ ̴̟̚R̶̛͚e̶͈͘c̵̖a̴̤̅l̶̗͝l̶̙͗ ̵̖̓G̴͎̐e̶̞̋t̸̪͑t̷̺͛ǐ̵ͅn̶̢̎g̴̮̍ ̴̗̅T̴̜̔h̷̨̑i̵̺͌s̴͇̅ ̷̭̉B̶͈̋ľ̵̰ò̷̧o̶͍̽d̶͉͠i̶͕͂e̷̺͆ď̵̪ ̷̧͝Û̷̙p̵͙̏ ̸̯̾W̶̳͑h̵̭͑e̶͍͝n̵͖ ̷̧̀I̸̬̐ ̶͈̌W̵̼̊ä̷̪́s̷̮̎ ̸̗͒Ÿ̶͍ơ̶̲u̸̝̕,̴͍̃” or whatever.

 Mono crushed the groan in his throat as the man in the hat squeezed roughly at his guts, as if trying to supply an injury in the absence of one. The treatment knocked the air out of his lungs and probably bruised him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. At all. The Thin Man always went nuts when he got cut. This wasn’t new. It likely wouldn’t stop either.

 “J̷̪͆U̸̗͘Ş̴̈́T̵̝͋ ̷̺̈́S̶̳̏P̴͉̈́E̶͈̍E̵̫̅K̴͇̑!̶̬͗ ̵͓̀ WHAT IS THE MATTER?” The Thin Man held him with his glinting eyes, the bill of his cap barred the droplets from hitting Mono.

 “E’tooth,” he mumbled. Where was his coat? He looked aside. Those eyes became infinitely more intense and deadly.

 “Ỳ̸̟ò̸̧u̷̡͗r̵͇̓.̸̽ͅ.̵͍̚.̶̢̈́ ̵̮̌Ṯ̶̈ȏ̶͖o̷͇̚t̶͓͊h̸̞̾?̶̰͊” drawled the man in the hat.

 Mono nodded. The Thin Man held his body cradled in his palms, and he didn’t suspect this would end well. Should the Thin Man decide to dump him and go away, Mono could try and find him later. That was possible. Maybe. He would chase.

 He did whine when the Thin Man pinched him around the face, the pressure popped his jaw open. The smoke and static saturated the air, he could pretty much taste it. He envisioned a dusty, dry hollow beneath a dresser, where he could hide and not be looked at. Dark and hidden, lost completely and detached from the cold, soaked, miserable world. For a while he could forget who he was, where he wanted to go.

 “I̶̢̓s̷̛̟ ̵̥͐T̸͓̅h̶͚̆a̶͓͆t̶̗͌ ̶̧̓A̴̓ͅl̴̬̔l̴̝͆ ̵͍̈́T̸̟͘h̴̭͗a̸̠͌t̵͕̀ ̷̫͌I̶̼͗s̸̳̋ ̸̦̂W̵͎͌ṛ̶͝o̵̖̊n̷̪̏g̴̘̓?̶͈̔ A missing tooth?”

 Even if he wasn’t restrained, Mono had no response. It was a little more than, “Is that all?” as if nothing was wrong. He didn’t want to lose one or any teeth. Some kids lost all their teeth, and eating was much more tedious. Eating on its own was a peril, and then to have no teeth for biting or fighting.

 “Where did it go? Did you swallow it?”

 When he was finally released, Mono sat up from the fingers and shook his head. As well, he held his face. Hurt.

 “C’n fix?” he whispered. “Way to’ix?” With some hope, he pried the tooth from his pocket and held the piece between his fingers. He inched down as the Thin Man leaned closer, studying (for him) the microscopic thing.

 His next statement shattered Mono. “There is nothing to fix. Your teeth are going to come out.”

 That was not what he wanted. Really? All! How would he fight children? Or be angry at the Thin Man? He already hated the sensation of one missing tooth. But a whole mouth?

 Mono coughed on blood. “No. But fix? Can?” The tall thin man set him down on the sidewalk, and Mono struggled to stand straight on his numb feet and offer his tooth. “S’way? Mah tooth? Broke.” He stared at the coat offered to him, by the Thin Man’s hands. He snatched the coat away and hugged it to his chest.

 All his teeth? Come out. He has to stop that from happening.

 “Your tooth is not broken,” the static rustled. “It was supposed to come out. As will they all.”

 Mono didn’t want to listen. He curled down with his coat, clutching the lost tooth until his fingernails bore into his palm. “Not. T’bad.” The static whirred through his bones, like the rain pelting the sidewalk surrounding him. The cold shadow draped over him. He couldn’t imagine eating with no teeth.

 “Mono,” the static rumbled. “Come now. It isn’t the end of the world.” A strange tense pause followed, the electricity bristled. “Your teeth will come back.”

 That last noise caught Mono’s attention. Did he hear right? It was always hard with the Thin Man. “Teeth?” He turned his face up, searching for insight or guidance. Was the Thin Man lie? How did tooth come back? “Mean? Teeth.” The Thin Man tilted his head, regarding him. The look was strange. Was disappointed.

 “Not all at once.” The Thin Man pushed off his knee and slowly stood to his full height. Mono glared up at him, suspicious yet. “Not long, a new tooth will sprout where the old one held occupancy.”

 Mono didn’t understand. “Ock-pency?”

 The Thin Man took his smoke thing and tapped it. “You’ll get a new tooth. That gap will not be there forever.”

 A new tooth. He’ll have a new tooth. “Not trick? Aam’tooth back?” He stumbled back when the Thin Man nudged him off with his shoe. “How know?” He chased after the Thin Man when he began walking.

 “You are child,” he supplied, tone cracking. “All children lose their teeth at some point. Then, you will get your new teeth. Ḅ̷̕e̸̺͊t̶̮́ţ̶̀è̶͙r̶̮͂ ̵̢̔T̸̖̈ȅ̴͔ě̵̥ṭ̴͝h̵̙̄.̶̦”

 Why did he sound angry? Was better teeth not good? He still didn’t understand anything, but he wasn’t so sad. Maybe it would be okay.

 “Do you still have that tooth?”

 Did want? Mono rushed after the Thin Man, holding up his tooth. He didn’t think the man in the hat would actually be able to hold it. For the tall-tall thin man, it was about the same size as a grain of sand; Mono had a hard time holding tiny bits of crumbs, he didn’t know if the Thin Man could do that.

 The Thin Man looked his way, the corner of his lip twitching. “No. You keep that safe.” The tall figure continued his leisurely saunter. “We will do something about that.”

 That didn’t sound great and Mono was dubious about the “do something”. Regardless, he hurried after the lazy pace of the tall thin man, bouncing over a crumbled cardboard box and wadded shirts packed onto the cracked pavement. As he goes, he managed to untangle his wadded coat and slip it securely over his arms, the fabric was waterlogged despite its resistant cover. He stuck the tooth in his pocket and crawled over a slanted piece of furniture; other debris and chunks of material from a buildings interior littered the sidewalk.

 Eventually, the bleeding of his gum stopped. It still tasted off, and Mono stopped to get another quick sip of water from a storm gutter, before racing after the man in the hat. He was always very cautious of the dark openings between buildings, or hollowed spaces beneath the stairs reaching up for crumbling doorways. As typical as the rain fell, keeping close to the Thin Man made him feel safe-eR in the presence of strange clicking manifestations lurking, observing with vacant empty skulls, gnashing cracked teeth jammed into swollen jaws.

 The adult… monster, didn’t pay attention to those strange bent creatures. Not often but occasionally, he thought he saw something lumbering and yellow, huddled deep in an alley. A large frame of yellow curled over wild and stringy hair, arms twisted into impossible directions, fingers scarred and nails splintered. There was nothing ever there, he knows, he’s certain. He blinked and wrenched around, but always, the disjointed nightmare has vanished. And he would scurry after the Thin Man, checking around the weaving strides in case a long arm breached its boarders, to reach out and swipe for him.

 She was gone. She would never come back for him.

 The infinite road receded at some point, to sandbags and packed gravel. Leaning and cracked skyscraper would never be in short supply, and remained as a constant frame of the world. The Pale City. The territory Mono had come to exist in, with no clear exit, no defined escape, no roads led out from the decrepit ruins. The buildings extended to the end of the world, there was nothing beyond the horizon but more lofty skyrises full of televisions and creatures hiding in the gouged shell of a forgotten world.

 A tree and another, and another, stand dwarfed by the backdrop. Somehow, the Thin Man’s imposing stature is humbled by the knotted branches reaching for natural radiance, but denied. Other items, such as a crushed television or half-submerged desk, stand out across the spongy landscape. A partially buried portion of window is also there, and the remains of more buildings and all the things forgotten from the inside worlds.

 And the chair.

 The tall thin man held up short to regard the slanted furniture piece on the knoll. After a puff of smoke, the figure continued walking. Mono stood longer, observing. This was so familiar, like something he saw in a dream. Somehow the chair conveyed such… betrayal and hurt, but also comfort. Of so much time but nothing happening. He was waiting. It was waiting for him.

 With a shake of his head, he broke the trance and charged across the gravel. He couldn’t see the tall thin man or really smell him, if not for the footprints fitted deep in the soft soil he might've lost his way completely among the scraggily brush. Mono jumped over some of the imprints and others he weaved around; water collected in the troughs quickly, creating a sequence of vibrating pools.

 “Beach,” Mono murmured, to himself. He didn’t see the big water, he couldn’t hear it over the drone of static and thrumming rain splattering the rolling mounds. A few times, his feet sink deep into the soil, but he is swift to liberate himself – crawl from the mud – and picked his way more carefully across the terrain.

 At the end of the impressions long trail, he discovered the Thin Man poised beneath a tall tree scuffing the soil with his shoe. “Bury your tooth.”

 Curious but more dubious, Mono peeked around a pillar of a leg. He sniffled and inched forward. “For whu?” A puddle already began collecting in the bottom of the hole.

 “It’s a farewell,” the static rustled. “You can say goodbye to the tooth. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

 Goodbye. Mono didn’t like goodbyes. He didn’t have many, everyone he once knew was taken. Snatched away. Keeping someone or anything, was temporary. There was no such thing as goodbye, only loss and regret.

 “Has keep?” he uttered, with a tug to the Thin Man’s ankle. “Sad f’leave. Not.” The Thin Man shuffled away from him.

 “You don’t need to keep it. You need to say goodbye.” The man in the hat peered down at him, and tilted his head. “It’s no use to you.”

 NoNoNoNo. No goodbyes! It was his, he had to keep it! She left him when he was no good. The tooth was still good, it was his fault. He broke it. He did the wrong. And he lost another hat too!

 Mono huddled down, searching the scraggily shrubs and waterlogged clothing, yet there was no place to crawl into for hide and wait. “Not. Aam tooth.” He wrapped his arms up over the back of his neck and rubbed at his hair. He didn’t want the goodbye. He wanted his tooth back.

 And what if the Thin Man was just strange too, like him? What if his tooth never grew back? There could be a way to fix this, and put it back. Maybe he needed to set it back in place and it would be okay. He had to do something.

 The static whirred. “Child. You can’t keep it. You have to let it go.”

 Mono shook his head. “Be lone’ee. T’leave,” he choked. “Still good. If’ex

 It was very-very quiet for a long while, only the prattle of rain on the sound gravel and the trickle of rushing gulley’s across the ripple landscape. Hours might’ve passed, or it was only minutes, Mono couldn’t tell. He huddled under the downpour, trying to squeeze all the drenching from the layers of his clothing. His undershirt hadn’t gotten soaked too badly, but it was still damp from layers of mist.

 When he couldn’t stand the grueling drag of the clock, Mono turned his head up and looked to the tall thin man in the hat. The impassive figure watched through a swell of smoke, only a fraction of the chiseled face defined – unimpressed. Dissatisfied by Mono’s powers of reasoning.

 With a wet hiccup, Mono dug around in his pocket until he had the tooth secured. He moved up a bit, on his knee and hand, until he was at the edge of the hole. It was a good depth, but that came as no surprise as the Thin Man dug it. He was cautious about getting too near the edge, in case the Thin Man decided to bury Mono as well.

 He extended his hand and let the tooth fall into the murky puddle at the pit. When the tooth was relieved of his grasp, the Thin Man began nudging soil in over the liberated bit of white. However, Mono was not completely settled on the idea, and remained crouched beside the opening, observing intently as the layers added on. Until the surface of the ground was even with his hands.

 “Still t’ere,” Mono mumbled.

 “Sure it is,” the static hummed. “Maybe it will make this tree grow big and strong.”

 Mono didn’t look up, but opted to keep his laser focus on the disturbed soil. “Tree’s ded.” A terse silence followed. He began prying at clumps of saturated gravel.

 “Don’t do that, child. Let it be.” The Thin Man bent over and gripped Mono by his shoulder.

 “No,” he wheezed. “Lon’eh. Be sad. Aam not want’d.” He couldn’t shrug from the finger pinching him, hauling him away. “Want. D’nt not wrong. Was good.” When he was released, he went right back to the scuffed earth and resumed pawing at the surface. Even if it was futile, and he couldn’t hope to displace that much cold dirt.

 Mono winced at the snap from above and retreated back off the grave, muddy arms tucked under his stomach. The Thin Man brought down a branch and jammed it into the ground.

 “Your tooth will no longer be lonely. It has a tol friend,” grumbled the Thin Man. He resumed his impressive stature and crossed his arms, observing with a thick plume of smoke. While Mono uncurled himself and scooted closer to the crooked tree limb, standing mighty beneath the heavy rainfall. The branch was narrow and straight, its top splayed like a spiderweb.

 For an unknown span, Mono stood and regarded the branch. “Keep,” he murmured. “S’safe now.”

 With a scratchy sigh, the Thin Man swung away and walked. “Yes. Absolutely.” After a few steps, he paused and looked back. It took much longer than reasonable to discern what it was he wanted to convey. “Did you want to tell… your tooth something, before leaving?”

 As before, Mono was huddled down and focused on the patch of churned soil. He shrugged his shoulders and stood up. The Thin Man took this cue, and resumed his leisure movement. Every yard or meter, Mono still had to slow his dash in order to look back. Keep view of the tall tree, the branch beneath it, and the patch or worn gravel. Soon the mist obscured the ragged space of ground, and it was only the branch and the tree visible in the thickening vapor. The next time Mono glimpsed back, it is only the tall dead tree among its gathering of other dead trees. Then at last they reach a section of ruptured road, and the looming structures of melancholy buildings.

 Mono grabbed the Thin Man’s ankle, tugging and pulling, until he lost his footing and skidded to his face on the muddy asphalt. Recovering in haste, he lunged for the tall thin man’s ankle trying to get his attention with vigorous yanking. Finally, the tall figure stopped and glared down on him. Mono wished he had a hat.

 “Th’r still,” he hissed. “Wait. But… hide.” Mono pointed the way they came, though he is certain the man in the hat wouldn’t grasp his meaning. “We… can re’ember.” With a flicker, the Thin Man reappeared a distance away, on his slow stride. Huffing, Mono followed.

 “I would say so,” the Thin Man crackled. “You will never forget, will you?”

 Mono shook his head, while he jammed a finger in his mouth and felt for that weird space inhabiting his mouth. Tooth gone. He wasn’t going to get used to it. He wanted to ask more, but he was taxed as it was from the distressing event and everything he had to think about. Losing a tooth hurt, would the hurt always be there? As well, the obstacles and keeping up with the Thin Man.

 He tried not to yawn anymore.

 The road the Thin Man followed, fell apart on one side. It wasn’t a complete gaping chasm, but the depth was severe and to the furthest Mono could make out, ledges and shattered staircases decorated the inner maw. At the opposite side, a portion of the road and its line marks dipped deep into the rocky side. A slanted electrical/telephone pole hung by its base, its cord connecting across the wound to another of the same city decoration. The Thin Man flashed, bypassing the line sloped across the road.

 Sometimes seeing the wide rifts like that one gave Mono a think about so much, such as what he was doing, where he was going. Planning never ceased, he had to always be on alert, keep watch, and find food for him and the Thin Man (One day the Thin Man might change his mind), and keep the shelter safe. Learn new tricks too, that was most important. Only so many hide spots could keep one safe.

 Adults did speek to each other too! Mono didn’t really understand that, not until the Thin Man studied the marks left on poster paper, a swarm of it pinned to a cinderblock wall beside a window. The large pages held so much mark speek, and some picture speek. Mono didn’t understand the pictures, they were too faded. However, the tall thin man seemed able to figure through the mark speek.

 The Thin Man looked down at Mono, and Mono felt that familiar swath of warmth in his chest. He didn’t have pack, but he had… together. A someone. He smiled at the man in the hat. Searching for a safe place was always his favorite. Not being left, but doing stuff. To the explore was important, always! New foods. New hide spaces. New places and things to look at.

 New dangers. Not his favorite. But danger was always following. Flee was endless, even if the monsters hadn’t found them yet.

 With a little grimace, the man in the hat went on his way. Ever and always casual with his stride, never in a hurry to reach wherever he was going. And Mono chased.

 This is what he did now. He chased the Thin Man. Later, maybe he could find some paper and crayons. If the Thin Man was interested in the speek, they could try share again. It would be nice if he could go with the man in the hat, to the danger places he sought. The whole city was no good, and he should make certain the Thin Man stayed safe. The tall thin man may not be good at tricks, but he was good at getting away. Flee would always be most important.

 Mono managed a skip in his step. So much to do, so much to plan. When he got close enough to the tall thin man, he tugged on his ankle. Just to let him know he was there and close.

 The rain became more intense as the two figures ventured along a broken section of road, a gnarled banking path with an upheaval in its eventual future course. Until averting their path, the travelers followed the street faithfully. The sizzling curtain of droplets scrubbed out the child’s shape first, but not soon thereafter the tall, impossibly narrow stature of the man in the hat dissolved away, as if scoured out by the lashing static of television screen; his trademark hat blurred among the weaving streaks, before that too vanished entirely.

 High above the city blanket of warped and shattered superstructures, one lone monolith stands uncontested at the crux of the angry, churning clouds. The hot ember of the Signal Tower shimmered brightest, cutting through haze and fog; it glowered upon the knotted and twisted roads, the skewered thoroughfares. To it, the entirety of the Pale City is naught, but an ant farm filled with burrows and aimless, wandering drones. The Tower shakes the canister which holds the soil; buildings topple, denizens of the Signal are tussled or crushed, absorbed completely and assimilated to the one true Eye. The world, its world, renews. The workers rebuild the bare essentials to hold the Viewers in rapt attention, the Signal persists. The Flesh is eternal.

 Beneath its thrumming heartbeat, it demanded adoration. Passion. Obsession.

 Lives.

 The Signal Tower is never deliberate in its methods, but it achieves all goals established. Regardless the stakes, notwithstanding the cost, no matter how messy that gets.

 All it needs do is exist and wait. It is and shall always be.

Next

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #mono loses a tooth #and it's scary for child

[grim-faux]

2 _ 24 _ A Collapsing Grave

First

 It was much harder than expected to relocate where in all the place that one bay door was situated, though it hadn’t been that far from where he first found the controls to drop the chain. Most of his travel consisted of trying to get around, while hefting the cumbersome fuse through or over obstacles, and getting stuck when he was met with a dead end. After much wandering and getting a little lost, he made it back to the shutter door and slotted the fuse into its rightful space beside the lever. With a sultry thrum, vibrant current coursed through the cables, alighting the bulbs along the frame above the bay doors. A sure sign all was in order.

 Despite all he had been through, Mono couldn’t help but bounce in place. It wasn’t quite static, not the controlled and melded electric current the Thin Man conducted with such ease. No. But it felt right. The door was alive, it would work for him.

 Hauling down the switch compelled the doors to shift, with a somber creak the shutter lifted a margin. Flint and silt drifted from the ceiling, drumming over Mono’s hat. When he released the switch, the doors descended. But slowly. Good! Nothing could crawl in. But when he was ready, he could go out.

 A last puff of the soggy draft rolled through the passage, as the shutter clinked into its crease. Everything was in order, he’s certain. It was safe to go find the Thin Man.

 Traversing through the entire factory was much easier, without the constant lurk of the Mechanic drifting among the vapor. The catwalk doesn’t extend the full length of the factory; on the floor, ruble and discarded machine parts obstructed pathways. Some disarray he has to bypass completely, while other barricades are at least traversable (without the clumsy fuse) by climbing, or scooting beneath. He doesn't recall the place being this littered with junk, but everything was already coming undone before he started. He must've remembered wrong. At one point he does recall he was very lost, but somehow in the mess, he’s at last able to return to where the first fuse was that awoke the factory.

 From there, the room he left the Thin Man in was wasn’t far away. It had been a while, maybe a day or more? Nothing was out of place, aside from the air being dry and the noises clattering out of the factory. Somewhere, one of the machine parts whistled, and the fog was more gray. It was so more different now from when he first left, he’s certain this is the same place. The body that fell from the cabinet is right where the Thin Man left it, the door was not far. He’s not lost anymore.

 Peering up at the tall door, he forgot he needed something to reach the handle. The Thin Man chose that place to stay, Mono never opened the door. He gave the area a look over, seeking a crate or something else he could drag on the grainy floor. When his search failed, he thought he might have enough energy to just pass through the solid door.

 He tried and tried, pushing at the solid panel. Even struggling to pull on his remaining energy, but failed. He moved away and gave the area another browse, walking around the side of the building where it jutted out from the wall. Some cables anchored vertically to the wall looked scalable, like storm gutters. He inched up those thick lines to a narrow protrusion that was flat and stable, just beneath a steep incline. Shuffling one way, he only found the ledge ended at the wall. Scooting in the other direction, he located a break in the cement, which he could squeeze into. The splint went deep and cut into a metal box, beyond the narrow crease the din of the factory faded out.

 This looked familiar, and promising. Light peeked in from one end, along with a sound. He could sense the diluted thrum, soft and gentle compared to the booming explosion of the factory. His ears rang with the familiar tenure.

 The vent dipped down and the opening peered upon the desk below. It wasn’t too high. Below, the Thin Man was doing something. Throwing something? Mono twisted around, then lowered his feet to the opening. He caught the edge of the flue, when the grate popped off beneath him. It’s not that high. It’s not that high.

 He let himself drop and plopped onto the desk. Not too bad. He looked up, before glancing over to the Thin Man sitting in the chair.

 “Come on in, why don’t you.” The Thin Man wound back his arm and… threw something. Another dull thunk followed.

 Mono collected himself and went to the side of the desk. It was a little harder dropping from the lesser height to the floor, but he was all right. It was nice leaning back on the chilly cinderblock wall. He still felt braised from all the running and huddling under blistering pipes. Sitting down felt so good. Quiet. Cool. Let his eyes slip shut. Dark.

 “Did you hear my message?”

 He opened one eye. “Mess-eng.” He didn’t know anything about that. Lifting his gaze a little higher, he watched the Thin Man flashed, the lights pulsing, and he appeared on the other side of the room. The picture board hanging on the wall looked sort of like an eye, but not like the warning speek. It had rings and rings with splotches of color. The Thin Man took some things stuck to it off and swept to the other side of the room.

 “Did you get that urge to explore out of your system?” He inspected one of the small, stick things, before throwing it at the not-eye.

 “Ss… n’toy?” he pondered.

 The Thin Man held up the bunch of branches, or pipes, feathers? in one hand, and tapped a finger on the tip of one. “Ah-ah. Not for children.” He threw one, hitting the not-eye. Mono didn’t get it. “Are you ready to leave? I can’t imagine you finding a stash of food in that place.”

 It would be safe to go now.

 Mono climbed to his feet and gave his coat a shake. Okay, he was good to go. The Thin Man set whatever the things were down on the desk, and went to the doorway. Mono is a little disappointed when the tall figure flashed and dissolved, like he typically does. At first Mono waited, confused. Was door to open? Follow? Is wait? Wait?

 He was back at square one. But there was the chair to the side of the room, by the tall cabinet. He hurried to grab it by the legs and hauled it across the coarse floor, back to the door. He got it close enough that he only needed to leap from the seat to snare the latch, and the panel swung open.

 Back into the choking, acrid atmosphere of the factor; heaving and chugging through its forgotten purpose.

 Mono wandered around the building for a bit, trying to find the bristling pick of the static in his nerves. It could be the factory blundered through his senses, overpowering everything and crowding out the gentle touch of the Thin Man’s aura. Or the Thin Man was just gone.

 The only way out was the bay doors. He thinks. Somewhere, he’ll catch up with the Thin Man. He’s sure.

 It’s another difficult trip from one side of the factory to the other. He almost knew the path too well by this point, and he hated that. Along the way of climbing and leaping – from chain to conveyor belt, crossing the catwalk – he did keep an eye out for the other kid. While he was on his own. The trek feels more perilous despite the absence of the Mechanic. Something about the calamity lair felt off, the steam spewing from gaskets more intense. Beneath the platform he scurried across, a gear burst loose and clanged against the trunks of the pillars below

 He… still doesn’t know what the Thin Man might do if he caught an other kid. The tall thin man stole Her, but let him chase. The man in the hat wanted company? But other kid might be scared, and that was okay, he understood. The Thin Man was scary and hard to really understand, even with share speek. The biggest thing to remember was the Thin Man is unpredictable, and there was no way to guess what he might do with an other kid.

 Even if he wanted to keep an eye out – while crawling under some squealing pipes. A good hide place, an area where he liked and other kid might like for hide too – it wouldn’t work. It wasn’t safe. He has to leave and take the Thin Man with him. But the Mechanic was tricked, the other kid is not locked up. They got a second chance. That was good.

 Where was he?

 Mono was forced into a retreat, beneath a low grate. A hose burst loose and spewed foul goop across the floor and walls, the retching had a vile noxious scent that burned his eyes and stung his nose. He nearly lost his hat in the haste to get away, before the thing could lash him with sputtering droplets.

 Somehow in his blind scrambling through the pipes, he got free without suffering injury. He squeezed from a wire cluster and looked around, uncertain of where he was. The fence to his side was crushed by a rectangular chunk of metal and ruble, but while inspecting it, he caught a dull but ominous creaking from somewhere. He was already moving before he checked overhead, then, ran faster.

 One of the shrieking pipes attached to a giant cylinder vat burst, igniting with a black ball of fog. The tendrils of a fire lashed at the breached opening of the container, and elsewhere, more screeching and explosions began rocketing throughout the depths of the machine.

 Mono got through a mostly standing portion of the fence, before wreckage from a metal beam slammed into the floor. He kept on the trail as the uproar increased by ten, the thick and sour scent of smoke burned his throat and eyes. He tugged the side of his coat up trying to stifle the intensity, and while it did help, it was a struggle to search the undergrowth of hostile tubing while keeping it set over his face.

 In his effort to find a stable pathway to crawl through (a feat that looked impossible now), he nearly missed the lash of color and heat before a patch of fire hit the cement. It was as he described it, a patch of fire. For a brief moment he stood and gaped, mesmerized as the liquid splattered across a vent and a vacant patch of the path; burning under the bidding of some caustic liquid. The flames writhed in an animated fashion, purple translucent tendrils prodding the scenery for unwary prey.

 He stumbled sideways and aimed for a set of cement steps, the only thing within sight that shouldn’t outright blow up under him. Barely on his third step, in a full dash, he’s snared roughly from behind and hoisted right off his feet. He fights immediately, clawing at the fingers locked around his waist, his legs pinwheeling at open air.

 “Ẅ̵ͅh̵̺̀a̶̳̽t̸ͅ ̴̰̂h̸͍͝a̴͍͆v̴̲̀ę̴̄ ̷̦̉y̸̱̕ọ̴̆u̸̙̽ ̶̰ḓ̶̈o̸̢͊n̸͍͘ḛ̵͝ ̵̲ṫ̶̢h̸̲̿i̶̲̅s̷̮̓ ̸͎̈t̵̓͜i̶̛͓m̵͎̾e̷͈̚?̸̰̽”

 Mono wilted when the Thin Man rotated him around to give him a glare. He didn’t do anything. It’s not his fault.

 “I̸̘̿ ̵̦͝C̶͔͊ȃ̸ͅn̸̮͋’̶͌͜t̶͈̂ ̸̥͛Ľ̶̺ẻ̸̬ḁ̸͌ṿ̷̔e̵̲͑ ̶̳̄Ỳ̶̰ö̷̞́u̵̟̽ ̸̻̋A̶̟͠l̵͇͌ŏ̵ͅn̵̞̽e̷̪͠ ̸͈͑F̸̹̓o̸̢̒r̵̻͒ ̴̩̉F̴̟̅i̶̪̓v̴̮͐ĕ̷͎—̷̹͐” The tall thin man recoiled when a collision of pipes anchored to a massive scaffolding ignited off their moorings.

 The Thin Man tucked Mono into his suit and stalled time. Carefully, he maneuvered away from the trajectory of destruction, weaving around fresh debris cast to the floor. It might have been easier to swipe aside the barrage of concrete and metal, but the entire place was coming undone. He made certain the child was secure and properly shielded, while he navigated the uproar with careful steps. The last time he attempted to manipulate the boy with his powers… it did not go well.

 Time reclaimed its turbulent droll, but he was clear before the clattering pieces scattered. Another eruption expelled a gush of hot smoke, black as ink. A spray of embers burst against the Thin Man’s hat and suit; he cringed low, coiling his arms tighter across his chest. Mono was practically soldered to his ribs and quaking, despite the inferno the place had suddenly become. Flames bloomed rampant among the conveyor belts, the once diligent trackway now rushed like water off their skeletal frames. The platform above bent and drooped, everywhere shoots of metal or rock scattered through the smog.

 “B̴͍̀e̵͍͊à̶̗r̶̭̈ ̶̰͐W̵̢͛i̶̦̊t̸̪̎h̷͔͐ ̸̮̎M̸͚̒e̴̩̕.” This would not be pleasant for the boy. It might even…. If he—

 The Thin Man teleported to the top of a stable section of scaffolding, above a network of cables stretched across the factory. The structure was already tipping before the tall figure supplied his weight, but it endured as he clicked along delicately. He kept a firm hold on Mono through his suit, and kept his other arm braced around his side. In case he needed it for an unforeseen event. Which was becoming an increasing possibility, as the sections of the factory and all its parts ruptured beneath his shoe soles. The sound of it more deafening than when the construct was alive and well. With a potent draw on his powers, dipping into an untapped pool he had not tampered with since he-himself was a small child. He tempered the drag of time and manipulated the structure, for a brief while he insured the fabric of the place wouldn't come undone. Not completely, but he would prepare for anything left amiss. The worst.

 Thick plumes bellowed through the inner workings of cables and support braces; concrete pillars blackened and chattering against the driving heat, flaked away or disintegrated. He tempered time further and braced himself, before shifting to a lower section of the floor. Solidifying his grip on the boy, and with a vague curse about the whole machination coming undone, he moved swiftly among the toppling limbs of charred metal. Faster than he had moved in many decades.

 If there was a time to bend the world to his whims, this would be it. Draw the wall to him and form a way out of this oven. However, some thought lingered in his mind, from during the time he chased Mono before the Tower. The man in the hat did not manipulate the city, to acquire his younger-self. For what reason to not? He did so, only once beyond the walls of the Signal Tower, to reach the doors and mend fractures. His powers were not omnipotent, and the stress… the boy.

 He needed a way out. An escape that didn’t end them both.

 Another structure of metal and demolished ceiling plunged to the grounds, where the Thin Man weaved along. He made a short dash and teleported beneath a collapsed portion of pipes, all appeared steady despite the chaos frolicking abundant. After shifting away to a clear area among thick red waves, he latched onto the tinge of fresh electric current. Despite the interference and broiling air, the Thin Man had a definite course.

 The static interference about his monochrome form surged, as he raised his free arm to an interlocked mishmash of pipes and gears, fused tight. With a slight tilt of his palm the ruptured sections burst apart with the same dignity and power as a tsunami crashing upon jagged sea cliff’s. Tempering time and flashing in brief bursts, he did not wait for the cinder to clear completely.

 In his mind the mantra chattered over and over, “Į̵̈ ̴̤̅Ê̶̳x̸̱͑i̶̥̇s̵̢̚ẗ̴̳́,̴̳͌ ̶̹̂T̸̼́ḧ̵̩ë̵̻ ̶̨͆B̶̥̒o̸̳͑ỵ̵̌ ̶͍̓I̵̳̿s̴͙͑ ̵̹̽Ā̶͈l̵̫͊i̵͖̓g̷̩͝ḥ̵̇ť̴̟.̸͖ Į̵̈ ̴̤̅Ê̶̳x̸̱͑i̶̥̇s̵̢̚ẗ̴̳́,̴̳͌ ̶̹̂T̸̼́ḧ̵̩ë̵̻ ̶̨͆B̶̥̒o̸̳͑ỵ̵̌ ̶͍̓I̵̳̿s̴͙͑ ̵̹̽Ā̶͈l̵̫͊i̵͖̓g̷̩͝ḥ̵̇ť̴̟.̸͖” Until it was a dull, obscure hum. Even if he didn’t know if he believed that still.

 Time insisted it must resume its correct spool of ticking, but he resisted to release it. He bided by different laws, nothing of this world could bend him. Unless he was receptive. Unless he gave in. Unless he surrendered. He resisted the typical ticking of the gnarled clock hands and threaded through a barrage of drooping metal infrastructure. He reached a mostly clean path, and with another phasing, arrived beyond the boarder of the collapsing beast. The constricting coils of the machine gave a forlorn wail at his back, while he continued his brisk stride toward that enticing draw of electricity. He followed the wall, noting a portion of gear embedded with the cinderblock, among scorched plastic, and other tidbits of ruble peppered among the brick.

 A guiding light shimmered in the smog above a tall, tattered frame. The bay door was partially demolished, its shutter slates gutted by a section of cylinder metal. With a firm temper on time and a rushed teleport, the Thin Man skipped through the passage unimpeded.

 The air outside the factory hung foggy, a thick vapor clung to the greasy, gray brick. Swells of inky clouds bellowed from the top of its roof, turning the usually gray clouds into all colors of midnight thunderheads. A vicious sizzling arose from the solid bullets smiting the brick, while another agonized howl rumbled from within those thick barriers. The place might implode yet.

 The Thin Man only paused to check his whereabouts, this location completely alien to him, the scenery unknown. A road extended from the ramp, leading from the large – traumatized – doors. An assortment of imposing buildings bordered the street, though, none offered sanctuary. He followed the motorway, only looking back to verify that the factory was not following. In all the madness of this world, it seemed a possibility. High above, a portion of the roof groaned and caved into the structure; allowing more smog and plumes of red flames to tear out.

 With his strained influence and powers withdrawn from the the imposing building, the barriers shielding the outside world from the ravaging inferno began crumpling like parched sand. More rabid flames tore loose, the solid black fumes intermixed with the tepid wash of gray showers, the watery prism unlike anything he'd ever witnessed in all his lives. As more of the factories guts dissolved beneath the unrelenting heat and weight of ruble, the fires suffocated. None of it was fast and less of it was clean, but soon, the tall thin man could make out nothing through the swelling vapors clogging the roads.

 It wasn’t until he reached an intersection in a distant alley, and came to a location he could force his way into with minimal resistance, that he risked stopping. The din of the dying factory was out of range, anything unleashed he could mitigate at this distance. The anguished cries still clawed through the sky (horrendously similar to a certain Tower), while the sky choked with a thick smear of toxic smoke. Best to stay indoors for a time.

 He forced the lock with his power and shouldered through the door. The place was musty and neglected, but it wasn’t collapsing. As for the tall thin man, he did fumble and toppled when he misjudged his footing. He did get his free hand to catch a shelf before he laid out completely, and let himself down to sit. He glared at the door, and the fortified structure slammed shut with a clack of finality.

 For a moment he sat trying to collect his wits, the airwaves buzzed as his static tinge thrummed. Hauling the child out of a collapsed skyscraper was one thing, trying to drag them both out of a ravenous bonfire was entirely different. By the Eye, he was not equipped for that. If it was him alone, the strain would be nonexistent – with the interference the child put out, conflicting despite his tampering with the transmission. He did not expect to walk away. It took everything to keep his form stable, keep the threads of static from dissolving completely into a crumpled heap.

 Then Mono would never have reached the Tower.

 Gingerly, he pried away the lapel of his suit. “M̷̬̓ǒ̸̘n̶͖͋õ̸̳?̴̼͝” The child’s breath came in wet, strained puffs. But still breathing. With Mono knitted into his dress shirt, he couldn’t decide if the child was conscious or not. “Mono?” He touched the back of his head, in all the haste and confusion, the lad's hat was lost.

 “Mmh.”

 The Thin Man let his shoulders slacken. Mostly alright, a little sooty, and whatever else before he claimed the boy. He tried to grip him, but the child was being difficult. As always. “Get out of there, you’re going to smother yourself.”

 A muffled, “Nh.”

 He looped his fingers around the child’s middle and pulled. “It’s safe. Let go.” It didn’t take much force to haul the boy loose. He held Mono firmly between his palms and gave him an intense scrutiny, checking his face and chest over for burns or cuts. The boy flailed, yowling about the indignity of it all. This valiant protest set the Thin Man more at ease, despite how close it had been.

 “You brought this on yourself. Getting corralled like that in the midst of an inferno.” He plucked at the knee, where blood soaked through the pant leg. If that was the most of his damage, then overall the child was fortunate. “What would you have done had I not come along? I don’t go looking for you, boy. You know this!”

 Mono blinked but didn’t utter a sound. The vicious trembling started up, so the Thin Man set him down. Once released of all nitpicking, the child scooted in close and nestled against his thigh. The face gawked at him, stained gray, with twin shimmering orbs, the hair all spiked and crazed. So placid and unbothered, never mind almost being broiled a few minutes ago.

 “Go do something. Find some food.” The man in the hat examined the area he had come into more clearly, and found it was shop of sorts. By a glance he couldn’t decide if provisions would still exist, but usually Stockers kept snacks available. It appeared unassuming and calm, no hostilities in the immediate vicinity. “I need to… rest a bit.” He pushed his hat down over his eyes, and leaned back onto the edge of the shelf.

 “Aam watch?” chirped the faint voice.

 “No. I am rest,” he sighed, all suffering and weary. “Entertain yourself elsewhere. This area seems safe enough.” The little hands patted his knee.

 “Watch. Aam watch’n,” the boy rasped. “S’rest. Sce'er dreem hant. Pro’tekt. M’do. Y’get’n rest. T'n ll’keep safe.”

 He fumbled for the child’s head and ruffled his hair. “Sure. Just don’t get into anymore trouble.” That request seemed too tall an order for one so small. He tipped his hat up and peered at the ash smeared face, still gazing. His frown deepened.

 At last, the child got the hint and backed away from the hand he left draped over his knee.  Mono turned and scurried off, it sounded like he headed into the inner store to forage for something.

 “Ductile little brat.” The reprieve would be temporary, no doubt he’d come to with the boy nestled on him as typical. For a while he would let the static interference scrub away his thoughts, all recollections, numb the alarming events. As soon as he could manage, he needed to leave the child somewhere and find a secluded television. That would be for a time later. The Tower would croon to him once more, but it could wait.

Next

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #ill just try and catch the tumblr up

[grim-faux]

07_A Small Echo

First

  The air was heavy and muffled, every step he took echoed. The reverberations strummed through the back of his thoughts, weighing on his senses. It was wading through deep water, the resistance heavy and he needed to be somewhere right now but no matter how much effort he put into each reaching step, the air itself restrained him. Confined his body in a tight coil, choking air from his lungs. His stride became heavier, he wasn’t sure how much further he could go, or if the next step would be the last he could endure.

 At the end of the gnarled corridor a door loomed tall, watching him. A lone and massive eye judged his progress, as if daring his resolve to reach the handle and trip the lock. Something awaited him. Answers, possibly. All the answers he could ever want.

 But the closer he came to the door, the harder his heart throbbed, the more intense the pressure of the everything around him. The colors became intense and their flavor palpable, tart and thin. If he reached the door though, it would be better. He was certain. It would be okay. Somehow, it would solve everything.

 A methodical chime crooned, tallying down the moments that he had left. Warning him that what is set in motion cannot be undone. A trick.

 __

 His eyes snapped open, and he had to confront the delightful truth that he was not dead. Wonderful.

 Out there somewhere, the rain drummed against the boards of a window. He was so tired of the rain, so weary of gasping on the mist and only being slightly damp, but never fully dried; of his clothing being an outer skin, rather a barrier against the vicious onslaught.

 He dragged an arm beneath the stiff cloth and smacked himself in the face. Mask still there. He didn’t normally take it off for rest, it was strange his first impulse was check for it, though he felt it crumpled around his face. He tried breathing calmly, but his sides buzzed. It could have been so much worse, he was sure, but being thankful for anything wouldn’t improve his mood.

 Should sleep? He had to find Her. The Six. Tower. She was there, he didn’t know if she was all right let alone alive, but he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t do anything until he found her. The thought stung his eyes, and he emitted a faint crooning. He wanted to be there, he so badly wanted to. But he was so lost, so hurt, and afraid they were both going to die. And he didn’t want to lose his friend. He let her down too many times. He let them all down.

 Drawing on some pathetic refuse of energy, he pushed himself up from the weighted fabric and edged forward. It was unbearable now, but this wasn’t unusual. Once he got moving and warmed up, he wouldn’t notice the tears or breaks. It didn’t stop the tremors in his arms. Slow first. Be careful.

 He was badly tangled up, and it took more effort than it was worth to just get his legs free. Where was he? He adjusted his mask and gave the area a look over.

 A room.

 Window. He heard that. Too high.

 Some furniture. Good. Not a lot of shadows, no visible spaces or notches, but furniture was good. At least it could be moved, with some force and a slice of lunacy. Furniture made noises.

 He was on a busted sofa, not his first choice. Absolute worst. A novice, idiot, suicidal choice. The sofa was not in the middle of the room, but it might as well have been. Across the room, a doorway. He took a deep breath and looked over to his side on the cushion. And tilted his head.

 Foods. Bits of what looked like meat and some wafer things, piled onto a napkin. Reflexively he cowered, but his lesser sense of self-preservation won out. Injuries forgotten, he tore into the foods. Half gobbling and choking as he sought to breathe and eat altogether. The whole choreography never worked well, since food was a rarity and having the chance to eat the food you did secure was rarest of all. It did enter his mind that this wasn’t quite right, and so kept his eyes cast off, barely paying mind to what he was shoving into his mouth.

 Until a creaking board sent him scuttling to the arm of the couch. He shoved the bag over his face and continued to gnaw, as he cast his eyes toward that doorway.

 The tall thin man in the hat entered, with a deep bow. Mono swallowed and swayed on the chair arm, already letting his eyes dip to the floor. It wouldn’t take long to tear the place apart searching for him, though he did already connect up who brought him here, who left the food.

 This was the worst situation. Horrible. He set another glare on the figure, as it positioned itself by the wall. Not near enough to warrant anxiety, but not far enough to be safe. Everything moved normally – the tall man was not alarmingly swift, and Mono was not crawling through the air. A plus there. Not likely to last, so he tensed up and watched.

 The Thin Man shifted closer, and Mono climbed to the back of the sofa. He strafed along the wall, rooting for a gap between furniture and plaster where he could get down. There was none—

 A harsh screech splint the room; intense and more punishing than thunder screams. He tumbled to the chair arm and clutched at his bag, the electrical pop whittled at his ears like a cold spike. No amount of huddling or defense was enough, he didn’t think he could stand much more….

 “C̸̖̟̖͖̻̼͆͋̋̕͝ạ̷̢͎̖̬͇̗̃̽n̴̦̝͔̲̎̿̆̀̍͑͜ ̴̬́̌̈̔̔̈́͋́̈́ý̸̙̜͕̯̟͓͉͇͚͇̈́́́́̒͐̍̒̉͝ơ̵̝͈̝̼̜͓̥̩̺͙̲͔̮̅̆̾͑̀͋͂̔̒͒̌̕͠ͅu̸͓̗̯̮̹͔͎͈͍̥̪̻̐͑͗͆̉͋̓́̽͌̊͗̚͝͝ understand me?”

 Mono perked and tilted his head. Yes he… could. The ideal that he could put connection to the speek, given that it was his speek, was most worrisome of all. It was altogether, and with the way the adult always seemed to know where he would appear, and set a trap. This was wrong and concerning, and told him how little his chance for escape was.

 He tumbled over the sofa arm to the nightstand and dropped to the floor, then, set himself beneath the piece of furniture. Now on the floor, he cast his eyes around searching for something more promising. If he could slip out of view for a few seconds….

 “You want help to your… ‘friend’. Yes?”

 Mono hissed in his throat but kept silent, instead opting to shake his head. The floorboards creaked with that terrible familiarity, and he poked his head up. No place to run. No place to hide. The man in the hat was thoroughly focused on him. Bad.

 “You could resist, but chose didn’t. No fight.” The child glanced his way, and then back to the floor, rooting for fresh cover. “You should be dead, do think?”

 Mono couldn’t stop his lips from twitching. Think he didn’t know that. Of course! This wasn’t fair. He pressed his head against the leg of the nightstand and crouched down. Should run? Floor open. No cover. Flee.

 “Twice over,” the Thin Man posed. As reply, the child scooted further around the table leg. “It’s not like you to give up. It’s not what you’re made of.”

 Mono tucked his head down. The Thin Man leaned over, peering under the table and trying to find the tell-tale mask.

 “What is it then? You’re running out of chances.” The child muttered a sound. “Come again?”

 “Want back,” he wheezed. “Want back her.” He coughed, more from shock than the discomfort of trying so hard to make words when it was not safe.

 “Well, that won’t do. She belongs to the tower now. As do I.” And an unspoken, as do you. “You forfeited your time for negotiations.”

 Mono poked his head up. “For-feet?”

 “Gave up.” He reached to the napkin on the sofa and picked out a piece of wafer, and held it out for the child. Mono skittered behind the table legs, pressing into the walls surface. His gaze darted up, inspecting the hand and the figure beyond it. “You will need your—”

 Faster than a whip, Mono snatched the bread and inhaled it. The Thin Man wondered if he was lucky to have kept his arm.

 “Why take? Why is her stole?” Mono continued to dip and paw at the wall beneath the furniture, distressed and unable to keep still. His flight instincts on overdrive, but he hadn’t the opening to safeguard his exit.

 “I’m not keeping you here,” the Thin Man offered. “But I won’t let you enter the tower.” He moved back from the table and gestured the room. “This place is on the outskirts of the city. You are miles and miles away from your goal.”

 Mono crept out from behind the nightstand, checking the tall thin man and then dropped his eyes to the floor level. There was only the one doorway. “Then have start again. So what?”

 This child…. “I said miles. Miles. Do you know how far a lone mile is? How much abuse and setbacks did you suffer, to come within a city block?”

 “Don’t care.” Mono shrugged. While the adult was turned away, he clambered up the sofa side and bounded across the cushions.  “She trapped. I’m not leave, especially friends.”

 This idiot child. “You single-minded, stubborn, relentless fool. You are going to destroy yourself.”

 Mono stood there and actually bristled, fists clutched by his hips. “So. WHAT? Hurt more in to leave! That desT-Roy me! S’not right!”

 But he did have a point. As their twisting paradox was uncontestable, so was this urge to… do something. Anything. Even if it was self-destructive. Children didn’t know any better.

 “I have an obligation to remove you,” the Thin Man cautioned as he wound back, the air vibrating with the sinister static. “If you insist on being a nuisance about it.”

 Mono climbed back over to the nightstand, the piece of furniture swayed under his weight. As if the floor might’ve shifted during his absence, he once more skimmed below. “You won’t though.”

 This tiresome child. “And what makes you so… assured?” In response, the child held up three fingers.

 “Caught, woke up.” He set down the third finger. “Gave foods.” He leaned backwards over the armchair, looking down at the scraps.

 The Thin Man tipped his head. “Is that really all it takes to gain your trust?”

 “No….” Mono plucked at the callouses on his finger with his teeth, removing splinters. “I get friend mine back, and you won’t work stop me.” He turned the bag, so that it lowered and the eye holes peered at the Thin Man. “You for-feit?”

 The Thin Man frowned. “No. I expected more from you. I anticipa— was prepared for the different outcome.” Mono’s response was lift his shoulders.

 “Let me go the tower.”

 Sighing, he tried once more. “It will destroy you. There will be nothing left of you, of who you are, strange child. You cease to exist, once you enter.”

 Mono looked away, and he could almost picture the concerned twitch of his eyebrows as the strange child examined the room over. “I think… would okay to that.”

 “ Wͪͩ̍̋Hͤ͛Y̆̊͆̊̈́͛͒!̵ͬͬ̌̆͂̍҉  ” His shout made the boy dive off the couch and flatten himself into the nearest corner of the room, where he huddled, his paper mask gawking. But given a moment and no action, the child calmed by a small amount. He continued to fidget and inch back. It took a minute longer for a response.

 “I don’t believe. You are lie. And I to have do myself.” He shoved his hand up under the bag and rubbed at his cheeks. “Have nothing… else. I, um….” He curled down into the corner, hugging scrawny knees to his chest and trying not to look at the Thin Man. There was probably more he could say, but he didn’t know how to convey it.

 It was painful. He didn’t do enough. It was his fault. He had to fix this. Was it fixable? She probably hated him, he was taking so long. She could be dead. He might never see her again. He did this. He should be dead. He could fix this. It should’ve been him, not her. This wasn’t fair.

 The Thin Man sighed through the static and brought a hand to his face. The action caused Mono to recoil a bit, though there was no longer space for him to creep into. “Very well. I admit, I am curious to witness how you go about this. If you so desire, I will escort you.”

 Quietly, Mono inquired, “You think can I stole back?”

 “No.” He spun away, moving to the doorway. “As stated, your life will end there, and that is the sum of it. But I am exhausted of this fantasy.” He turned back when Mono remained rooted. “Are you coming?”

 Mono tugged at his coat, gaping at the tall man in the hat, but unresponsive. At last he did uncoil, and bounded right over to the sofa cushion where the food was abandoned. He kept his shoulder to the Thin Man as he chewed on the remnants, then plucked up as many of the crumbs as possible until there was hardly any dust left. Cautiously, he climbed off the sofa, and gave his coat a shake off.

 “Any time now.”

 Mono finished checking his coat for snags or loose bits, then tentatively walked over to the Thin Man. Not getting too close, but near enough he could peer up and announce his preparedness with an unreadable expression. The Thin Man stooped and entered into the corridor. He was certain Mono was right behind him, though he couldn’t hear the footfalls at all. Children had ways of vanishing once a gaze was dropped. But he knew without a doubt the child would find his way to the Signal Tower, as he was initially instructed.

 If not for Mono’s retaliation in the first place, and in his inability to destroy his youth, that all along was the primary goal. That was all that mattered. Deliver him, replace himself. Either way, the events twisted in a manner the Tower demanded. But he was curious now to see how this hitch in the pathways worked, and what its finality would mean. It would be interesting nonetheless.

 Might as well bend the paradox further.

Next

#little nightmares #mono fanfic #little nightmares fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #spoilers? #mono #the thin man #the man in the hat #the tall thin man #little nightmares fanfiction #mono fanfiction

[grim-faux]

16_The Art of Necessity 

First

  The dreams are unfamiliar scraps of places he never knew, never saw. No, he did know these places. A building full of false children, and a strict teacher. Unpleasant creatures, clacking and springing, snatching at his mask.

 He gripped a bar in his hands and brought it down hard. Fake! Not real!

 They chased him in droves. He climbed onto the lockers, like they did. Before one or more could get a good grip, he’d already shoved the locker out from the wall and smashed three beneath. He took apart the last two with ease. He hated them so much. The pranks. Their snickering. All their traps. The stupid, copied smile they wore.

Fake! FAKE! F̸͝A̵̡K̕҉̨̛E̸̶̛!̵̢͜͞͏ !̡̮̣͔̗̭̩̩͉ͨ͒͑̄͆͒͜͝

 The silence and dark become constricting. It’s no longer a school full of terrible things with horrid ideas. There’s nothing in place of that broiled rage, but the reflections of it humming in his bones. They left that place so long ago, it wasn’t even the worst place. It wasn’t that bad. He just hated it, because they mocked him. Those fakes. He hated them!

 And then what happened?

 Ran away. Kept moving. The cold, the storm. Buildings, and places to visit but deserted. Nothing enduring, always moving. Exhausted, hungry, soaked through, and always never stopping. Should have stopped more, should have done sleep. It was hard, it was scary. No excuse. Not good. They drove onward, relentless. No, he pushed onward, searching for something. Refused to give in, more afraid of the dreams than the thought of collapsing.

 He was stopped now. Wasn’t moving. Where? No idea, not the foggiest. Something happened. Oh… there was a place, he did revisit. He shouldn’t have, he didn’t mean to. The television. Treacherous thing. What happened then?

 Cage. Kids. Yes, that did happen. He left them. Left him. Just like She left him. He ran away, like a coward. Even when he could… did something. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. Or, it was too much. Bad. Mistake. Should have left. Shouldn’t have bothered. Cursed.

 He took a deep breath and sighed. Through the air rustled the static, and in his ears, through his bones. He didn’t even care. He shouldn’t. Why should he fight so hard, if he was doomed to fail anyway? The world was against him and not an ounce of what he did mattered.

 His arms were numb from being so tightly wound against his sides. Shifting them, he struggled to feign off the pins and needles buzzing through his wrists. It felt uncannily like the static bristling his nerves, a sensation he normally hated. He accepted it for now, and nestled a little more into the coarse coat against his side. The white noise was a dull hum, yet he was too spent to care. Though resigned to his uncertain fate, it didn’t stop the miniscule twinge when a hand settled over his body and a thumb brushed against his back. The hand stalled.

 “You’re awake.”

 The closeness of the resonance alarmed him. Mono thought about pretending sleep, he was already tipping into that somber spiral of utter fatigue he couldn’t withstand. He didn’t want to resist. But, that wasn’t a question.

 “Mmm.” He did have a question. “Am caught?” The hand moved away, and he almost missed the gentle touch. He didn’t think adults could be anything but cruel or harsh.

 “No,” the reply came, soft. “You seem in poor shape. Hurt?”

 Hurt. That question again. Always asking, like it mattered if he was or not. It did though, didn’t it? For someone else, not for him. He saw someone hurt, and tugged at the side of his coat. “Dunno.” Calm and silence invaded, deceptive with its illusion. Was safe? Where?

 Tentatively, he uncoiled his body enough to raise his head and checked, seeing first dark. For once he wasn’t searching for his escape, but examined the walls and judged the surface. Enough definition to the gloom afforded obvious features, such as the panel texturing, eroded wallpaper, some furniture; a desk and some small bookshelf. It was dry, aside from his dampish coat – he must’ve been sleep for some time. This room….

 For a moment there, he was afraid they were someplace… more familiar. He didn’t know where precisely, but it was a shroud that lingered in the back of his mind, an unknown dread and uncertain paranoia. Like when the Thin Man appeared at the alley end, and he had no more strength for flee. Dread. A dread he didn’t want to face, didn’t want to invite, and wanted nothing to do with. More fearsome, terrifying, than being crushed to death.

 He didn’t know what could possibly be worse than dying. Then, with a little hiccup, he had a thought. He recalled what could be worse than death. Worse than pain.

 He adjusted his posture and looked up at the Thin Man. His hat was down, and he appeared to have his head resting on his hand. It was hard to decipher if he was fully awake or focused. The man in the hat sometimes pretended rest, but really watched. The disquiet scrutiny of someone, trying to figure out a puzzle with a missing piece.

 “You hurt?”

 The hat tipped up and a little bit of light glinted under the bill. “No. Worried? About me?”

 Mono tucked his head down. He only just realized he’d lost the racoon cap. Forget it, pick another hat later. “Make sure. You… not n’hurt.” It felt good to stop. Stop worrying, stop running, stop thinking. Just stop. Stay still. “S’nice t’worry.” He nuzzled into the dense fiber of the coat and just tried… to let his body soothe out. It would be nice to be anywhere else, but he preferred the warmth. It felt good on his bruised side.

 “Rest. When you are able to manage yourself, I’ll leave you to your own goings.”

 Oh. Of course. That’s right. This was rest, and later… he didn’t know what. Find foods. Don’t be seen. Scout. Sleep. So sleepy. Sleep forever seemed like a bliss. He could do just that.

 “How do know name?” he mumbled

 The static rustled. “That is a story for another day.”

 “Can tell?”

 “No.”

 “Tell?”

 The Thin Man shifted, and Mono snapped his head up to check the action, and glare. He was fixing the hat, or rubbing his face. Annoyed? Good. “No. If you are quiet and sleep, then I will consider to tell. Not before.”

 A story would have been nice, Mono reflected. Words would have distracted him from the whir of static, though, it was not painful. Or that distracting. At least that insatiable panic of impending danger and looming threat was absent. He hadn’t decided if that was really good or not. If his sense of self-preservation was shattered entirely, and he was unfeeling. A void, incapable of recognizing when running was still the better option. It horrified him, the ideal of turning into that one child who had lost all resolve. He didn’t want that to happen to him. He wanted to wake up tomorrow, or the next day. After a sleep.

 With a meek exhale, he let the tension melt from his muscles. He was frightened by how effortless it was, to forfeit.

 The Thin Man settled a hand over his side, and this time he barely winced. He was on high alert for the next few minutes, hardwired instincts screaming at him: How easy it would be for that hand to snap your neck.

 The fingers deftly brushed the back of his head; slow, gentle and steady. It felt… very nice. Somehow, it made the aches in his body feel less important, and made the horrible events seem so far-far away. He didn’t understand why the Thin Man was doing that. Too much of the strange man in the hat, he did not understand. For now, he couldn’t dwell on it. He uncoiled the tight fists his hands hand formed and focused on breathing, slow and even. The scent of smoke saturating him wasn’t so terrible anymore.

 __

 The first five steps they took from the window, they decided… awful, wretched, terrible place. From the smell in the corridors, of chemicals and decay – too familiar to the Hunters cabin – to how dim and poorly lit everywhere was. Hated it.

 Loathsome place.

 She actually gave a very soft, near imperceivably growl. It almost made Mono laugh. But they didn’t know these areas, the darkness contained. There was anything deadly and vicious, searching now as they trespassed. She, in her cunning yellow jacket. Him, in his faithful coat.

 Once, in one of the murky corridors, she tugged his shoulder. And when he faced her fully, she put her hands in a rectangle, over her head. How do you see?

 In response, he tugged up the paper bag and gave a grin. Not very well!

 And then promptly tripped on a chunk of wire.

 The flashlight was a great contribution. They passed it back and forth for a short while, trying the button. Six wasn’t too partial to the harsh light, and still felt more comfortable in the vague black. At times when Mono – guardian of the electric torch – flashed it around the walls, it wasn’t that great of a contributor. Sometimes the slicing beam made shadows, and looming-stretching, ambiguous shapes, all the more terrifying. But they needed some sort of radiance to navigate these areas, which became as impenetrable as a wall of chiseled midnight.

 The scouting eventually led to this one area in all this icky place, and without a glance shared they chose unanimously to stay there for a bit. It was calm, the air still and no strange smells made them wary. Light sprouted abundant, and despite it being a dead end, it felt safest. They needed to stop anyway, especially since he had… another incident with one of the televisions.

 The room received an astute search over. Six poked at the shelves and dark spaces, while he scrutinized the wall and the speek there. It was… transfixing. Something happened, he didn’t know what. It felt so familiar, he couldn’t place what from. Something about a room, and a—

 He’s startled by the inaudible breath of paper creeping across the table. She found the box of paper along with bits of crayons and set them on the table edge. She hoisted up onto the stool and began scratching down some lines.

 Mono took the chair. He climbed onto the table to shove the bear off. Now he could see her. She passed him a page, and briefly checked beyond his shoulder.

 Just in case, Mono looked as well. It marveled him how haunting an empty yet well-lit room could be, but beyond it was nothing but black and empty wastes. They currently sat in a dead end, where only paranoia would deliver them from certain doom. 

 He took a clump of crayons, and practically sat crouched on the table to draw. “Tweet-tweet,” he whispered. It was bird. They made tweet sounds. “Birb.”

 She mouthed the sound. It was hard to get her to speek with her voice, but he didn’t mind. Next, she showed him a picture of one Bully, with its head cracked in two. Rather violently. He judged the picture accordingly. She made a low growl.

 Mono tried to imitate the sound. “That s’hard,” he spoke, carefully. “Pick ‘nother.”

 Six stuck her tongue out. “Lern’t.”

 “All your speek hard.” He leaned over his current drawing. “And I’m stupid.” He pulled his bag up enough to pout, but only for a moment.

 This got a grimace from her. The Six. It was the closest he’d get of a smile.

 The time was devoted to the very serious business of speek-share and storytelling. Six had seen many interesting things, and done very frightening things. On the other hand, Mono wasn’t as invested in sharing where he had been or who he had seen. He focused on coloring a dark hole, with a long step ladder extending upward.

 Six snagged it away and gave it a look, turning the page this and that way. He crawled across the table and set the picture right, gesturing with his hand from the bottom of the pit to the edge. She gave him a speek. In return, he mimicked the noise. She became invested with scratching down bars, against a wall.

 “Climb?” Without looking up, Six nodded. He leaned closer, on the same page she worked at, he drew a figure on the climb steps. “Fall.” Then a figure detached from the climb steps.

 Before he finished bolding in the middle section of the person, she pried the page away and swept it off the table. In silence, Mono took another page and settled back to his chair.

 She remained very secretive, sharing so little of her speek. He didn’t know if she interacted much with other children, it seemed like she had in the past. He’d known children that just didn’t have the capacity, while others resorted to clicks or whistles. Six had some of that speek. Much of it did consist of sniffles, hisses, clicks. Her name was a fluty warble. Six. He wished he was that clever. Who gave her the name, where she got it, she couldn’t convey. Maybe she didn’t remember, either.

 A picture of a child in white clothing and red smears on the lips, was passed to him. So, she did know other children before him. He was looking at it, right before she snatched it back and began etching it in with thick, black bars – going sinister and quiet as she worked.

 Mono knew that mood. The angry, brooding girl. Then, she shows him a picture of a figure in a yellow raincoat. He tried to enunciate her name. He was so bad at it.

 Six shook her head. Then, gave him a new speek. Once more, he tried to enunciate it, though clumsy and rough. “Rain? Coat?” He snatched the picture away and lay on the table, studying it closely. “Girl? Friend?”

 She swiped the page back and gazed down intently. Then, hiked one shoulder up.

 Mono’s mind wandered to dark places, of bad things, and uncertain questions. He took a new page, and began sketching in. “Foods?” Immediately, she perked up. “Mmm.” He’d never met someone so excited to eat anything. He liked her speek for foods. “Meat.”

 She hummed, “Bread.” And began a fury of drawing.

 “Meat n’bread.”

 “Bread m’meat. Mmm. Fresh meat.”

 “Soft, fresh.”  Mono clicked his jaw.

 A sudden, muffled thump, sent both children scrambling from around the table. Six lunged into the furthest corner of the room, crouching behind a basket full of knickknack junk. While Mono crawled beneath the table and huddled up; both stare at the ceiling. Frozen and quiet, wide eyes unblinking. Sound up there. uP TheRE. Would move? Should leave? Go where?

 They remained latched down to their respective locations, alert, listening for the threat and its direction. But there was no further utterance or hint of what the sound was, and the atmosphere retained that deceptive stillness. All a lie. Something was hiding here. Something awaited their exploration, the curiosity.

 Mono inched around to face her, and pressed a finger to the front of his paper mask. Six shook her head vigorously, and slunk back behind a large stuffed animal. No place to run. A dead end.

 But he crept out from beneath the table, and snuck toward the gaping entry. She moved, only slightly, but he didn’t check. His whole focus and concentration went beyond, to the darkness. In the first room, lit by blaring lights, there is nothing. He knows this. Just the large machine, and its window that shows inside things. He slipped closer to the portal and leaned on the doorframe, checking the shroud in the large chamber. He sees the chair and wheels, the mannequins – as Six called them. How does she make those sounds?

 Nothing is evident in the space above, just more shadows and strange shapes that are not moving. False people, but they are pleasant and still. Not moving. Not annoying or sinister. They are quiet, contemplative, polite. The only semi-horrible but pleasant thing about this place.

 With a deep sigh, he returned to the brightly lit toy room. Hmm? Where is her?

 The stuffed bear quivered. Odd, he thought he left it—

 It rushed at him, colliding with his face and chest, nearly bowling him over. It was the Six! Ooh, he made her mad. Oh dear. This wasn’t good.

 She crawled under the table and sat, cross legged and arms folded against her chest. Mad, brooding, girl. He didn’t mean for her to get upset. She was fuming. This was the absolute worst.

 Mono dragged the stuffed bear with him and nudged the chair away. He flipped the swollen plush upright and shoved its arms around Six, bundling her up in the horrible gawking thing. She’s so mad, she won’t look at him, and swung away – within the embrace of the crazed toy.

 He laid down on his tummy and crawled closer, his paper bag rumpled, but it’d be okay. Reaching over the bear’s knee, he tentatively touched her elbow. She slapped his hand and wrenched away, her shoulders bunched up around the hood of her jacket.

 Well, he could just let her simmer for a bit. There was nothing wrong with that… except he was hungry, and he wanted to explore around. But he didn’t want to do that alone, and he wouldn’t leave her alone. Even if there was a chance he could bring back a peace offering.

 With a sigh, he folded his arms under his chin, and kicked his legs up to sway above his back. After a while, he started plucking at the loose thread in the plush toys feet.

 Then, Six reached over and took his hand, she shook it off the thread. Holding him by the wrist, she pulled his arm over the bear leg and mashed at his palm. Mono let his arm go limp, and let one leg bop against the bears head. She fumbled with his fingers, each in turn, traced the lines in his palm.

 Mono’s mask rustled as he leaned up enough, to glance back at the door. He didn’t hear anything, which in itself was sometimes frightening. There was an eeriness under the hush, of an unaccounted predator coiled up and waiting to spring. A trap set, waiting, knowing that a path was regularly used by clueless trespassers.

 Assured the deceit was not present (for now), he rested his chin back on his arm and shut one eye. Six pressed her palm to his, and he splayed their fingers out. Once more, he tried to pronounce her name right. Softly. She giggled, and let go of his arm. It dangled over the bear’s leg.

 Suddenly the mammoth stuffed thing was smushed against his back. ACk! He squirmed out from under the lumpy behemoth, and hauled his coat away as well. The nerve. He checked on her, and proceeded to fix the crinkles in his paper bag. Six was curled up against the bear, knees tucked into her chest, and her holding a furry paw around her side.

 “Slep?” he posed, while straightening a crease in the edge of his mask. In the hood, Six nodded vigorously. He hummed and scooted around to face the door. He hugged his legs to his chest and dipped his face behind his knees. It was cold, his pants were stiff with mud and grease, but it was his turn to watch and wait, listen. The doorway retained the disarming aura of neglect, nothing living or otherwise stirred.

 After a few minutes, a faint scuffling-twitch spilled from her. Sleep was hard. He hoped she wouldn’t wake up, but sometimes, it was the biggest trial to just be still and sleep. Dreams reminded them that there was no safety or escape, but he could wait and listen for threats, and be the one to say if it was time to run. He hoped though this time, he’d be able to get rest himself.

 He hated his dreams, likely as much as Six hated hers. The door, the corridor – the thrumming reverberations. Sometimes, he hated the sound of his own heartbeat, so familiar and intense in the dreams of him rushing to some… unknown. Actually, he was surprised she volunteered to sleep first. Nobody liked a nap, but they couldn’t get by without rest. Eventually, they crashed. Hard. It was dangerous, merciless, and more often frightening. More frightening, than tackling the lurking shades of their nightmares.

Next

#little nightmares #six #mono #the thin man #little nightmares fanfiction #little nightmares fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #little nightmares fluff #these kids need some supervision #six angry #use the slep #the man in the hat

[grim-faux]

21_Weaving Paths and Turbulence

First

 The buildings began to blur together as he searched endlessly. Rotten carpet, leaky walls, hollowed out ceilings or collapsed floors. Some areas held together better than others, some skyscrapers he didn’t make it to the second floor, due to a dense presence of the Viewers. The clusters flocked for the televisions, rooting for the escape that was the signal in the static.

 They didn’t bother him at all, but it was unlikely that the child would risk the thicket for any shred of shelter. There was no such safety in the heart of insanity.

 This most recent building he entered into the old fashioned way, seemed promising. Yet, he had been at this for who knows how long, usually hitting false leads or incurring a cold trail. Sometimes it was an old thread from one of the television units, and he might find – say – evidence that some child had been present. Speek on a wall, warning of some threat or another, a ransacked kitchen with everything from within the cabinets dumped across the floor.

He typically deduced how far off he was by such patterns. For instance, if Mono found the tools, he would tag a wall with the image of a boy in paper mask. If another child was recounting an interesting story, they might do a picture on a piece of paper, but it was typically a boy in a trademarked coat and a hat.

 This was all optimistic, but the speek was not in a localized location. He had hoped Mono would fold in with another group of children. That’s what children did, they packed. It was… what he wanted. Mono didn’t Fall, not the same way he did. This iteration of his youth was not scorned or dispirited, as he had been. He did not see where the pit would take him.

 The upper floor caved into the lower level, spilling a bed and other furniture into the formerly lavish kitchen. With each gust of wind, the building groaned. A hard storm beat at the window set into the side of the kitchen, threatening to tear out the last few glittering teeth. Outside the window a shattered television hung from its cable. He wondered if—

 A mournful crash ignited from somewhere within the building, causing the lights to douse from the portal going into the next room. Everything shook, from the walls to the air itself. A huff of dust swept through the pale vapor of light within the corrupt kitchen.

 Flickering through a hazy ripple, the Thin Man relocated to that portal and stooped. Not this room, the next one over. He wound around discarded packing boxes and stacks of bedsheets, his reach pricking through the transmission. The frequency becoming more condensed, promising.

 In the next chamber, the timber persisted to creak and yowl from the abrupt disturbance. The source was apparent, by the meager light blazing from the room above. A chunk of wall took out a banister, but for now the floor should hold.

 What piqued his interest was the ruffled shape clawing its way up the remnants of the stairway, from a height that would be fatal if not incapacitating. The Thin Man inched out, raising his hands in case the child lost grip. Those concerns were unwarranted, given that Mono had reacted to destruction before disaster could claim him.

 The child continued scrambling up the remains of the rail, until he was safely settled on the crossing flat above. He glared down from his perch, clearly annoyed by the cataclysm that could have ended him. That irritation shifted to the tall dark figure poised below. He tipped his head one way.

 The Thin Man tipped his head the other. It seemed Mono had finally shed his hats. For him, the boy wasn’t too far away, but he wished he could get a better look at that face. If he offered his hand, the child might be encouraged to come down.

 Before he could kindle a word, the child stood up and turned away. And like that, he was gone.

 To be honest, the Thin Man was a little stunned. Not a word, not even a hiss. He didn’t expect the child to be receptive to his presence, but expected something more, such as drawn-out scrutiny or a lingering glare.

 With a surge and crackle, he relocated to the top of the floor where Mono had been. The time that elapsed was short, but the presence was already fading. He recalled it had been impossible to capture Mono, if not for interference of some sort that caught him unaware. He began prowling, searching for the least obvious crevices and breaks in the corroded wall, though it would have helped if he saw which direction the boy had fled into.

 He all but tore the building to pieces, but it became apparent only later, that Mono was long gone.

 __

 The window was open, which begged him to climb in and get out of the rain. It must’ve been a place to get stuff, though it seemed okay. A lot of the stuff was worthless, such as clothing and things with wheels.

 A shoe with wheels. He could get on it and it would roll across the floor. Neat. But this didn’t seem like the place that would have foods.

 He stood on a stack of collapsed boxes, the tower folding and turning lumpy as he climbed on it. He needed to get a better look around, know this area and get a sense of his location. That was when he saw it. Something on a shelf, behind a counter, and it looked like a foods container. He wasn’t sure. This place didn’t have foods, it had shoe wheels, and board with wheels, and just… boards. And clothing. He needed to find his way up there. But how? He left the lumpy stack of boxes and crept around, poking the fringes of shadows and climbing shelves. No ledge or height was near enough to get him to the basket shelf, except….

 To one side of the room sat a stack of cages, all empty. Whew. The cages rose high enough, that he could reach a ledge – and if he jumped well – he could get to a crumbled and sloping ceiling/upper floor. It took more effort than it should to climb up the cages, despite them being the easiest to scale of anything. Plenty of hand holds, sturdy, etc.

 From there, he climbed onto the crossing beam nearest to the crates, walked out to the end of a plank, and then sprang to the sloped floor/ceiling. He gave the room a sharp examination, listening for noises beneath the effort of stealth. When assured this space was safe, he carefully navigated to the end of the inclined floor. It shot out a bit higher than he anticipated, above the metal basket which held the mysterious it-looked-like-foods artifact.

 He jumped down to a lone crossing plank of wood, and swayed when it creaked under his weight. This is okay, this was fine. He crouched down and centered his gravity, winding up his muscles. And… hesitated.

 It’s not that far. This would be okay. He dropped from higher.

 Mono gulped down a few firm breaths. This was okay. It would be fine.

 But he could still see her face. She glared at him, unmoved. We need to go. We need to leave. Please hurry. Please. Six. I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, take me.

 He swayed and shook his head. No! He could do this! Go! Just go!

 Without a thought he leapt out, and in the next instant plopped into the mesh of the basket. He was shaking. He clung to the container in the shelf basket, and he was shaking, breathing. It was all right. He was okay. It’s okay. It would be….

 What is?

 Pop lid. He gripped and prodded the container all over, searching for the mechanism to figure out what the contents were. Carefully, he eased the lid back and snuffed at the seal underneath. No smell. Good. No smell from seal, was best. It had a pull tab, but that broke. He was forced to gnaw at the seal, but carefully. No noise. Silent.

 A swell of aroma puffed from the pressurized top. Smelled all right. He carved the seal out more and dug into the container. It was indeed foods. He pulled out a bit of what might be meat, he thinks. It didn’t smell like any meat he knew. He gave it a tentative try.

 Was good. Actually made his mouth water, as with his eyes. He wasn’t sure how to place the flavor, but it actually had flavor – and he hoped it was supposed to taste like this. Or, maybe he went that long without food.

 He tossed caution aside and began digging out more of the foods stuff, going to town on whatever he’s stumbled upon. Something he was actually enjoying, which was completely bizarre. He felt secure in this little perch, chewing on whatever the heck he found. He kind of wanted to keep on chewing, he stuck his tongue out, content. He opted to shove as much into his mouth and enjoy it all the more. So yum. Nice. The container was can and its sides smooth, he could roll it. If it didn’t make a lot of….

 It all changed in an instant. His eyes snapped open, and he sniffled. The foods had a very vibrant odor, very good, but he could push past that. His pulse began spiking, his heart ached in his chest. Something was wrong. He was on immediate alert and the tasty foods forgotten. He edged forward on the mesh basket, struggling to understand what was there, what he tuned into. The building was empty save for him, devoid of presence or resonance. This didn’t change the fact that something was there, and he couldn’t directly see nor pick out where. He knew without a flutter of a doubt, he was in danger.

 He pitched out of the mesh basket and hit the counter below – the distance from his perch and the landing was still much too high. He sprang to his feet and swept sideways, dazed by the sharp numbness in his leg but unwavering in the escape. He tried to tend more caution as he scaled down the side of the counter, first dropping into a cylinder wire basket full of ratty cloth, then flopped out onto the floor.

 The shadows soaked the craft of concealment through his shoulders and coat. He ducked under tall aisles and scuttled behind lopsided boxes, scoping the dark depths for hint or indication of a threat. Was it another beetle? It didn’t really matter, no one shrugged off a scare like this. Don’t make noise, don’t ignore intuition. Something set him off.

 At some point, as he crept through a patch of mossy tendrils, he chanced a look back toward the counter. All in time to view a stringy figure materializing from the shadows and dust, and coalescing into an imposing shape. The nightmarish image stood there, head tilted.

  H̸́I͞͠͠M̸̴͘͠͡!̨̕͡

 With dire purpose the figure rotated and fixed its haunting gaze upon him. He could see him. He knew where he was. The Thin Man always knows! WHY? NOW? WRONG! THREATTHREATDANGER! FLEE!

 He came from the window, but didn’t figure a way out! Was door? Where door? TRAPPED! LOST! TRAPPEDLOSTDANGER!!

 Upon getting pinned among a collision of shelves, he scrambled in an erratic circle clawing at supplies, before plowing through a small nook he could squeeze into. The buzz of static pricked at his skin, he lost track of where he was let alone where the man in the hat was. He didn’t care what he was crawling over or through, he barely had a conscious thought of where he was going – purely guided by the intensity of his bones humming.

 No hide! NOHIDENOHIDE!

 He could only hope this twisting pathway delayed his pursuer. But eventually, all good things must come to an end. A wall reared up in his path, and he nearly collided with it in his blind panic. He took the direction that felt favorable, not the easier, and kept going. Through the gloom of the building, a mass fluttered, the static rustled. Mono nearly choked… trying to head him off.

 Something caught his foot and he toppled. OW! He curled up, cupping a hand over his face. When he looked back, he perked. But the grate he tripped over was latched tight. No, wait…. He scrambled around, searching through the muck on the ground. There was a lot of pieces, parts… his palms snagged something thin but hefty. Weight. He hauled it over to the grate and swung it down.

 The slates in the vent creaked. He wound up, and again slammed the bar down. Once more! And again! Don’t stop. Don’t look BACK!

 He dropped to his knees with the last deafening crunch, and the bars splint apart enough he could drop through.

 In time for the buzzing and distortion to skitter through the space he stood. He wasn’t certain from where, the Thin Man might try to close in fast. Without a moment wasted he dove headfirst through the gap and skidded down a short incline, tumbling over gunk in the dark. When he managed to his feet he kept hunched low and hurried, one hand glanced over eroded metal. He lugged out the flashlight and clicked it on, the light flickered but held steady.

 A large break opened above his head, from where plaster and splinters spilled down. He checked the access with a brief glimpse, before dragging his body up. The passage wound and narrowed, he didn’t know where he was going. That was the least of his woes.

 He was limping. In his panic he hadn’t realized, the pain barely registered. It didn’t feel that serious, not like falling. A light twinge in his knee and thigh, the joint stubborn with his weight crammed up like this. He’d have to be careful, more cautious. This couldn’t slow him down.

 Then, a cold fear settled over Mono. Why does the Thin Man seek? What want? To taunt? The man in the hat didn’t want anything to do with him. Suddenly, wanted to steal. This was very terrible, and he cued in on something… sinister. He knew the Thin Man usually didn’t hurt him, but in other ways… he did. It was a struggle to explain, for now he gave up and focused. He was certain something was very wrong, to make man in the hat seek. Something painful would come of this, it always did. Stay away. He was in danger. And the Thin Man always knew how to find. There was no hide. Only flee.

 Tight and inhospitable crevices, the narrow passages, forgotten spaces in desolate locations. The deep, dark fractures the adults could not reach into. This would be his safe. And never relent focus. Always watch. Never waver. Only one set of eyes. Only him.

 Light fluttered from the end of the duct. A mass of wadded paper crammed the opening, but enough space was allotted that he could peer out without disturbing it. He tucked away the flashlight – the batteries were going bad, or it got too wet. He blinked out the fuzziness when the scratchy light hit his eyes, it looked like an ordinary room. More tables and furniture, and a television set seated on a chair.

 Rest. He needed hurt rest. But television is a way out. The Thin Man will find. The Thin Man will set a trap. He is too cunning. Too dangerous.

 Mono’s lip trembled. Flee. There is only flee. No hide. Flee.

 He shoved the gummy paper out of the crack and let himself down, careful. Cautious. He heard the Viewer. Somewhere. The adult groaned, not near but coming? Lost.

 Where they are doesn’t matter. He hauled another chair over to the television and climbed up. Despite the whirring of the device and its call, the air was calm. Good. He slapped his hands onto the glossy surface and let himself tear out of there.

 __

 This… aggravating child.

 No matter his carefully sheltered stealth, the caution he pursued, how he lingered out of range awaiting the opportune time to creep in. The boy would NOT let him get near. He wasn’t certain if the child’s skills with the transmission were only now beginning to refine, or if Mono had become so attuned to the hostile reality of the world, in the absence of a friend. The Thin Man only held knowledge to the point of his own shelter and isolation within the Tower, thus all that transpired hereafter was an unknown.

  If the child was developing higher sensory, it would be impossible to get close enough to intercept him. There persisted no delusion in him that Mono was in a listening mood, if he’d regressed to hyper-survival. It was dispiriting. If he could stumble upon a chance to move in close enough, he resolved to simply capture the boy.

  However, this proved more difficult than initially afforded credit. On numerous occasions, he managed to track the boy down with relative ease. Still, the grasp of the child’s attunement was more outreaching than anticipated. The Thin Man could only arrive a step behind, ironically as that was. Creeping in, closing distance mere moments following Mono’s departure.

 In one tower office complex, he tracked the boy through the television signals. It persisted that the smaller one didn’t grasp that the easiest way to give out his location, was through utilizing the transmission. A secret he hoped endured longer, while the boy began utilizing leaps more and more often. Nonetheless, the Thin Man seemed only able to arrive and assess the scattered fragments indicating the boys presence, and nothing of it to benefit his self-imposed mission.

 As he scoured the room over for a hint of the boys endless course, the static bristling and his shape intermingling with the fringe of shadows, he stumbled upon a toppled pan of water resting face down on the floor. The liquid swept from the sides, still in the process of intermingling with the silt collected from rainwater settled on a drenched magazine. A few inches away, muddy footprints faded out across a soaked patch of carpet. The most incriminating, was the hat discarded on the side of a crumbling desk. All of this, yet it did not enlighten him to where Mono had vanished off to.

 When he pursued his younger-self to the tower, it was a centralized and concise path. The boy’s pattern was easy to track, if he so desired, he could have waited to confront him at the Signal Tower’s doors. But an attempt to break the cycle was impossible to resist. It was tradition, was it not?

 For now he pocket the lost token, and settled to explore the building through once more. The effort would prove a waste of time, and once more he returned to the transmission to conceal himself until the child made another reappearance.

 The light throughout the cloud canopy shifted either three days or a week, but discerning time between bouts with travel through the transmission was at times fickle. He didn’t pay much mind to it either, for him time was as ambiguous as was the cycle they would remain shackled to.

 It was a nondescript length of time before he sprang upon another flicker in the transmission. The trace was strong, and relatively near to his current post. He crept through the television, and as he surfaced on the other side with the usual disruption to the environment nearest the unit, he plucked out the detached clatter of items tumbling to the floor.

 When he emerged fully, he glanced up in time to witness a coat tail flashing out of view around a slanted doorframe.

 He was right there!

 The Thin Man hauled his legs free and uncoiled, barely sparing a moment to solidify his form before he tempered time. With quiet caution he eased through the narrow portal, careful in case the child was underfoot and his location an unknown.

 A portion of the room had fully collapsed at some point, and ironically the few patches of floor remaining against the walls had some furniture situated there. His gaze swept to the hurried child, dulled as time was, but racing headfirst to the edge of the ruined void to the side of the room. Fearing that perilous desperation, he hastened his pace, struggling to get near and draw the child back from certain destruction.

 The boy broke ahead, skipping the last few inches. He swung around and hopped over the edge, falling entirely from view.

 Stunned, the Thin Man dropped to his knees and peered over the side, reaching….

 A pipe extended beneath the crushed portion of floor, fading into the gloom swirling below. The boy was able to wrap his body around this asset and slide down, by the time the Thin Man recovered from his initial shock, the child had already vanished into the murk.

 For a spell he debated the practicality of phasing down, along with the complexity of that. In the end, he decided not to risk it. Leaving this alone for some time might be the most practical tactic, give the situation a chance to settle the static. He would need a new strategy, but there was still time.

 Nonetheless, this was all confounding. In the hindsight of his last (direct) interaction with the boy, he speculated it would be simple to rejoin with him. The child seemed receptive to his presence, unafraid even, bold enough to touch him without prompt.

 This was foolish of him to think; children were far more suspicious of things they did not understand – more so of adults, who would not tolerate the presence of a child. He was no exception, and it was his error to believe anything but. Despite the reassurance of the boy’s distrust, this was becoming a persistent nuisance. At this point, he was uncertain what he wanted to check the child for, he was quite capable of handling himself.

 He returned to the room with the television, and knelt in order to check the scattered items. Some foods, but that was about it. Surviving by the most fundamental and base methods. There wasn’t much point to continuing this. The boy was not remarkable or unique from any other child, aside from his connection to the transmission. He was entirely capable of figuring this out on his own. It was the way he managed, after all.

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[grim-faux]

26 _ The Substance of Longing

First

 The door in the big room was never locked. He tried the latch on a few occasions, ran up and down the corridor so many times, he lost count. Its not search, not patrol to check for dangers. He won’t go too far, too fearful of becoming disconnected or lost from the room where he seeks shelter. On a rare day (or night) he tried to follow the tall thin man, but the Thin Man can skip and go ahead. The Thin Man doesn’t wait.

 Foods are left in the big room, and a few edible things get moved to the windowsill. He shouldn’t leave until those are gone. It’s dangerous to go far. When the Thin Man was gone, he was out there somewhere waiting. When he was better and could run, the Thin Man would chase once more. He would keep the big door shut and wait. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Would get caught same as before, no flee. Not ready.

 Time was nonexistent, he couldn’t get a firm grasp on what hour it was or how long he waited. He slept. He ate. In the long winding time between doing something he wouldn’t… couldn’t recall how long he was in this hazy stupor. The hours blurred, the sky was always in twilight or dawn, but never truly day. Night as well a mystery. Clouds bundled and pressed against the sky, forming a dense canopy that erased everything but the city below.

 If the sky was in a genuine vengeful state, a storm abused the roads and building walls. Lightening crackled against the howling air, rain drilled against the fractured window, threatening to tear out the last plane of glass which shielded the room from the world outside.

 Mono didn’t like the fearsome storms, so hid in the corridor away from the onslaught of weather. The room with the desk and chair was usually shut, but he could huddle in the corner bundled tightly in his coat. Corners were not safe, they were the place you go to get caught; in long terrible dead ends. Though, it was easy to prop his body up and keep straight, in case he needed to bolt up. He stayed there, far from the ruthless storm, braced on two sides and dry for now. Soon, he would not remember what it was to be dry. He would go back to the streets, the narrow passages, the deep forgotten crevices; be damp but never fully dry. It would be okay, though. Next time would be different.

 When the Thin Man was gone, Mono checked the rooms. It was important. Check all the rooms, search for dangers that might sneak in. It’s hard to focus on this task, he is not always very in touch with his surroundings. The hours bled away, but he is wary of eat too much because the foods won’t last. He is very hurt and wanted to be more aware of when (if) the Thin Man returned. If instead danger surprised him, the best way out would be the one window he could reach in the dresser room. He was not ready for flee.

 If the room with the desk and chair is shut, then the Thin Man is not leave. He comes back, or wasn’t really gone. It confused Mono. He didn’t know which it would be anymore. The man in the hat was to leave, but didn’t. The Thin Man waited for something and quiet watched.

 Much of the unraveling spool of time is spent seated in the corridor watching the door. If he could, he would jump through the panel. Like the Thin Man did. Surprise him. Remind him, Mono is wait. But the last time, it thrashed him so bad. He was hurt. Not ready for such things. When he awoke after, however long it had been, the Thin Man was gone.

 That didn’t upset him. He was disappointed, and didn’t do much of anything but drowsed on the chair, too laggard and exhausted to do anything but rest. Not until the gnawing pain in his gut insisted, he do something more, such as go to the dresser room and get foods. Something was better than nothing.

 Was it hours or could it be days? The way light in the window flittered and changed, he was never certain. The thought occurred to him, as it often did before, that it was time for escape. Depart this drab room and the sad place, take his chances with flee and hide.

 But if left, the Thin Man would catch. Or not. Mono didn’t know anymore. The Thin Man is lie, and doesn’t do things to help. When the Thin Man does something, it is usually to see what will happen. Like follow and ask questions. The Thin Man didn’t need anybody, but always knew where Mono was. So played a game, but the Thin Man cheated, and toyed with him. The man in the hat wouldn’t… hurt him, he was a careful adult. All the same, he would make sure Mono felt other things. Like lost, and empty, and baffled. Mono wouldn’t stand for it, but if the man in the hat leaves forever and ever, Mono will have nothing else. So, he will play the game, since the Thin Man is the only one that will seek Mono. Everyone else is gone.

 The Thin Man didn’t tolerate him, but gave foods to keep Mono, so he will get better. He wondered if it was fun to chase, to catch. If doesn’t flee, does the Thin Man keep? Mono isn’t certain, he is afraid the man in the hat won’t be happy if not do flee. Then disappears. The man in the hat was… bored but curious, so did things to get new answers. The Thin Man wants something, but doesn’t know how to get.

 Mono wanted something, too. He wasn’t sure what. He’d forgotten.

 It would be nice to stay and skip the flee… but he is very hurt and very-very tired. The man in the hat seemed very annoyed and bored. Irritated. Mono is certain he has done something wrong that the man in the hat didn’t want, but the Thin Man didn’t really speek to Mono much, aside from ask question. Always ask questions. Hard questions. Some things, Mono didn’t understand. The speek Mono so carefully crafted wallowed in his recollections, littered with dust and rot. Some words he knew more readily than others, but it was easier to think and not try his voice. He kept ‘Hey’, or, ‘Oi.’ Important speek. He could never lose that speek.

 At some unknown point, the Thin Man did come back.

 A vibrant and familiar weave of static tinged the air, spurring Mono to race recklessly for the big room with the main door. He waited in the gloom and furniture, for whatever might blunder through. He couldn’t be sure. The Thin Man was leave because Mono was not really hurt. A Viewer could hurtle in, outraged that its television drank too deeply of floodwater; any other manner of horrid thing might tear into the room searching for something to snatch. If he was cautious and clever, he could get away without it realizing he was there at all. The window would challenge him, he was not ready for flee.

 But the handle clicked and the Thin Man entered, with a deep bow as he was sentenced to. Mono peered out from beneath the decrepit furniture, as the Thin Man left some foods with the growing collection on the long end table. In a crackling surge he was gone, headed down the corridor. To the desk room.

 The Thin Man always knew where Mono was, but preferred to ignore him. Sometimes he felt better when hid and was not addressed, but not always

 While the desk room is shut, Mono sat in the dresser room and drank up the view from the window. He would gnaw on the bandage at his arm and map out all the places he should go, the unyielding roads, the windows of distant buildings. Maybe he’ll dunk some foods into the water and eat, or he’ll creep down into a corner of the room and prop himself up to watch the doorway. He thinks in some way, the Thin Man is more annoyed than usual with him.

 The Thin Man retuned, but Mono doesn’t understand. Why came back if Mono isn’t really hurt? Is because Mono was supposed to flee, but didn’t? That is might why the Thin Man is annoyed. The man in the hat doesn’t make a lot of sense, but Mono is not ready for flee. What does the Thin Man do if bored? Mono doesn’t know, or care. It didn’t matter since he couldn’t go anywhere. He struggled to grasp the coursing static permeating the air, but that is hard if he is not in the corridor near the desk room.

 The leave makes sense to Mono, but not the coming back. Sort of, the rooms and dresser place reminded him of the familiar place. He stays because there is foods, and he rests when his feet can’t carry him. He’s careful not to eats too much, in case the one time the Thin Man doesn’t do return, he needed more time to rest. When the desk room is open, always check the other rooms and kitchen, and big room. It is important to know the rooms are unbothered. He couldn’t stop and rest otherwise.

 It becomes harder and harder still for Mono to recognize when the Thin Man is gone. The man in the hat doesn’t always stay in the desk room, but he doesn’t tolerate Mono either and disappeared. Mono doesn’t know where, not the desk room. It becomes confusing, and he had a think if this was a new game. Mono would try and prop himself beside the door to the desk room and wait him out, but time escaped him in the unyielding wait. More often nodded off, for however long he can’t decide. The light in the corridor warped into new textures, the air felt stale and tasted off.

 And the desk room is open, for him to see. To understand. There are no more questions for Mono, barely a glance his way when (if) he caught the Thin Man upon return. Foods are left in the big room, or on occasion at the windowsill. Mono is very lost in the place he stays.

 In some indistinguishable length of the day, while Mono sat contemplating a corner, the Thin Man came into the dresser room. He didn’t realize he returned, but perhaps Mono was caught amid wake and sleep. Maybe he was dreaming all this, but he didn’t think so. The hissing particles in the room felt real, bearing down as they did when the man in the hat crept.

 When the figure came too near, Mono tugged the side of his coat closer around his shoulders and tightened up a little in his protective coil. Always leave, going to disappear; Mono wanted leave too, but hurt. Not fair.

  The Thin Man set something on the floor beside him. Mono glared at it, then shifted an eye to the man in the hat. He sniffled.

 It was a toy animal, fitted onto a wheel with a flat base. When the toy was pushed across the floor, its legs spun around. He touched it once, then gawked at it for a few minutes. The Thin Man was gone, and he left a toy. The toy was fun and interesting, but now Mono had to go check the big room and the other rooms all over. The Thin Man locked the desk room, so he stopped there for the time and waited.

 He gnawed on the bandage on his arm. It could come off, but he didn’t want to remove it.

 In times like this when he only had scrambled thoughts, he wondered what She might think of him. Left too because he couldn’t keep up. Fell behind, struggled when it mattered. It wasn’t his fault, he was hurt. Didn’t take care of himself, like she insisted. Should’ve done better. Stupid. He thought was do right, the good. He didn’t understand. Maybe she was afraid, when the Thin Man followed. She knew the man in the hat always found him, and didn’t want a thing to do with him. That was possible.

 The door of the desk room opened, and the Thin Man swept out. He didn’t regard Mono with much but a glance, as Mono scooted aside. Mono wanted to follow. He would follow this time. The man in the hat didn’t move quickly, but he shifted and leapt. It was hard for Mono to do that. He could do that. But he was hurt.

 He rubbed some of the blurriness from his eyes as he lagged. When the Thin Man reached the main door, he flashed and evaporated. So effortless.

 For Mono, he had to snag the small stool from off the side of the other big furniture – he used it to each the long end table – he dragged it to the door. The latch was never locked; it taunted him. He was to escape. Leave. When ready, flee.

 By the time he gets the knob hauled down and tumbled into the hallway, the Thin Man is nearly to the end of the shadowy depths. The corridor was a dilapidated muggy disaster, in worse condition than the place the Thin Man left him, but it was unchanged from the dozens of other times he hiked through it.

 Mono sprinted to his limit, but it was apparent before he began he wouldn’t reach the Thin Man before he flittered out of sight completely.

 “Hey.” The call was so chalky and hoarse, he didn’t think the man in the hat heard. Not at this distance. But the dark cutout slowed in his steps and wound back, head tilted.

 Mono wheezed on the air, already spent. Some days he could trek back and forth a few times, though he never ventured further than this corridor. He was afraid of getting lost, becoming stranded from the familiar place. Being forgotten.

 Without meaning to, he dragged to a halt. He wondered if the Thin Man would come back or respond. Something. He was hurt. He didn’t mean to let himself get this bad. For a little added emphasis, he stood a bit straighter, and bided time until he could throw some more vigor into his sprint. He could still catch up. He could keep up. He would.

 But without a word, the Thin Man returned to his prior path and resumed walking.

 Long after the gloomy shape evaporated into the murk, Mono stood chewing at the bandage, face blistering. He returned to the big room, a little stumble in his step. It takes the last of his energy to heave the big door shut and for the latch to click, but he managed. Once that was concluded, he huddled beneath the stool trying to draw on something that was clearly not there. He had to check the other rooms. The door was open, something might have gotten in. He had to make certain. Nothing was left in him to do such an ambition, but he made it to the dresser room. He must have.

 He awoke in the bottom drawer, swaddled in clothing. He knows he didn’t touch the odd animal toy since the Thin Man left it, but it is in the drawer with him. The Thin Man so liked his games.

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