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spookyspaghettisundae · 5 years

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Baring Fangs in the Singing Cave

Singing echoed through the cave, sending shivers down her spine.

She struggled to remember who and where she was, but she knew that the singing was not her own. The songs blended together, born from many different voices—and not a single one of them human. Not one of them contained words. They conveyed such pure beauty to her ears that she wanted to collapse and cry.

She felt a profound loss and loneliness as she regained her bearings, and shreds of memories began to surface in her mind, like small shards floating in a calm pond. She sensed that being here was wrong, that a catastrophic event approached her in a silent steady stride.

Instead of being filled with darkness, a strange green light flooded this cave. The jagged stone grounds inside the cavernous chambers hurt the tender skin of her bare soles, forcing her to hobble forward like a toddler learning how to walk.

The singing and the light shared the same source: crystalline shapes the size of full-grown men. The magicked minerals hovered several paces off the ground, they rotated with hypnotic slowness and the sweet and surreal serenades emanated from their cores. Their centers shone so brightly that looking upon them burnt her eyes in the same way that staring at the sun would do. Yet the glow that radiated from them shone with a softness that reminded her of silky furs caressing her skin.

Waters pooled in the cave, gentle streams and reservoirs reflecting the odd green lights that failed to penetrate their depths. In her palm, she caught a single drop of liquid that rolled off the tip of her nose. She shivered again, caused by the cool air sweeping over her. The skin of her hands, and arms, and legs, and every inch not covered by tattered rags and colorful leaves and feathers bound together with vines and spider silk—smooth gray skin, coated in the sheen of pearls of water. She must have emerged from this cavern’s waters just before.

What was she? Why was she here? Why did she even exist?

The unceasing singing offered no answers, but it lured her to the center of the cave like a beautiful siren’s song. There, pure energy rose like smoke, emerging from a pit in which life itself circled and pooled like liquid. She reached out and dared to stick her hand into the tendrils of this energy.

It tingled with pleasant warmth.

She allowed the entire length of her forearm to glide into the billowing energy and linger there, awash in waves of pleasure that pulsated from her arm and traveled through the rest of her fleshly vessel, permeating her entire being and transcending her body and saturating her very spirit.

Here was where she came from.

Not where she was born. Not what had made her. But where she had reemerged into this world. Where she had awakened.

What she was a part of and apart of, now. As she had done, many times before.

Satisfied by the warmth from that pool of energy having filled her corporeal form, she stumbled away from it. The shivers returned as the singing continued without pause, invading and consuming the entirety of her perception.

She needed to know who she was, so she hobbled towards the edge of the natural waters, taking one careful footstep after the other, shaking with each like a newborn child—or something that needed to learn how to use this body once more.

When she finally saw her reflection in the soft green glow upon the water’s surface, she shook like leaves in the breeze. She struggled to understand whose face she was wearing, adding to the confusion over her own identity.

Eyes with neither white nor irises glowed in their entirety with the same strange blue light as the energy she had just bathed in. A headdress of ram’s horns and bright and colorful feathers adorned her head like a primitive crown, as did hair with the color of rust tied back into long thin braids. She ran her fingertips first over the pale gray lips that matched her skin tone, then along the bright yellow lines painted onto her face in arcane shapes and unfathomable patterns.

Her fingers trembled as their tips explored the length of her pointy ears. Smooth, cold, damp, unfamiliar.

She whispered at her own reflection, “Who are you?”

Her reflection knelt and gripped a long spear in both hands as she rose again.

“I was Llanugeth Valai'i,” the reflection replied with the certainty of engravings on a tombstone, lowering her face and causing her mien to darken.

“Was? What are you?” Her voice sounded the same—but dull in contrast to the singing crystals that floated all about inside this cavern.

The spear in the hands of her reflection gave her a menacing air when she then said, “I was a powerful priestess of the Scorpion Tribe until you stole my life, demon.”

She looked down and found the spear in her own hands, matching the one in the hands of her alien reflection. It felt so unfamiliar, like her hands were not her own. Could this be true? Why did she not remember?

Her voice now trembled “Demon, am I?”

Her reflection sneered at her and answered, “I do not know what you are, but you are not natural. You do not belong in this world, monster.”

“I must remember,” she said so softly that it emerged as barely more than a whisper, barely distinguishable from a sigh.

“You must not remember, forsaken one,” her reflection said with contempt.

She raised the spear over her head, testing its weight, while her reflection pointed the spear back at her in a threatening gesture, disconnecting their motions from one another.

“Exiled, was I?”

“You must not remember.”

“An unwilling passenger in the exodus,” she droned on. Her voice gained more certainty and strength with each word that followed. “Not fortunate enough to be brought along my kind when the horned god ensnared us all, scorpion priestess.”

She lowered the spear and her reflection followed suit. She lowered her head. Shadows grew and crept across her face. A single drop of water rolled from the tip of her nose once more. It fell into the pool, causing waves to ripple outwards from its singular point of impact, distorting her reflection to the point of no recognition.

“I was not chosen like the others,” she said. “The gods saw me not, heard me not, or ignored my presence. Instead, they chose men and women and dragons to lead your foolish people.”

When the ripples smoothed over and her reflection regained tangible shape, she saw herself gritting her teeth, baring her fangs at herself.

“You stole my face, you witch.”

“And you tried to steal the life from these pools of energy. Compared to your transgressions, what I did to you was a mercy.”

“It was only energy, raw magic. An experiment. I was on the verge of a breakthrough. I was a scion and a prodigy. What are you? You are nothing, forgotten, faceless, nameless. A thief.”

She began to remember—she was not one, but many. The presence of the many surrounded her, invisible within the cave, but reflected in the waters she gazed upon. The many victims she had claimed over the course of an eon. They all stared back at her—not with contempt or malice in their glowing blue eyes, but with emptiness.

Certainty filled her every fiber. An inner heat purged the cold sensations completely.

“What you did felt like flesh being ripped from bone. You had the audacity to play with powers you do not comprehend, elf. You were the thief, not I.”

“Yet here I am, a remnant within your being? A ghost to haunt you for your many murders? How many before me did you slay? How many other faces have you worn before mine?”

She spoke to herself, but the rift between the voice of her reflection and her lips grew greater by the minute.

“You are nothing. Not even dust and shadow, you are. I unmade you, just as I now remade you, all just to remember who I am. To comprehend why I am here again. You are nothing but an instrument. A tool.”

Her reflection screamed at her, but no sound emerged from her mouth. Only ghostly singing resonated throughout the cave.

She looked up, basking in the green glow. She swayed to the rhythm of the songs, breaking out into a trance-like dance. Then she hummed along, out of tune.

“Nameless one, uncorrupted. Exiled one, unchosen. Deadly one, unknown,” she sang, now chiming in with the tunes of the singing crystals.

She was the necessary evil that upheld the order. Unsung and forgotten, for nobody ever lived to remember her. And in her black unseelie heart, she knew that when her dance would end, she would face the next trespassers seeking to steal the life force.

When next some self-proclaimed “heroes” came, she would greet them and fill them with dread.

Should they try to take the life, she would make them dead and take their faces.

—Submitted by Wratts

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miguels-talons · 7 years

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The Long Walk Home

So this is my entry thing for @therealjacksepticeye ‘s septicart thing. I know it’s probably only for drawing and fanart, but it’s called septicart. Writing is an art. So I wrote this because I can write and not draw. This is based off of a scene from the book “IT” by Stephen King. I of course had to write it to be about Jack and Anti in present times, but I think this is one of my best writing pieces! Anyway, here we go:

As Jack trudges through the thick blanket of snow covering the ground around him, he pulls at the strings of his hood, trying to better shield his face from the buffeting cold and snow filled winds. He mutters to himself silently, his warm breaths of air making small, white clouds form in front of his face. He had been out at the library earlier that day, researching things the old fashioned way when after he’d gotten that nostalgic feeling to use an encyclopedia again. He had rode there in a taxi but quickly lost track of time while inside the walls of the library, forgetting to charge his phone and keep an eye on the passage of daylight. By the time he was finished reading about whales he had realized that the sun was beginning to set and his phone was dead. He would have stayed to charge, but the library was closing and he had to leave.

So, here he is now, the thick jacket he brought hardly doing anything to keep him warm with the gushes of wind hitting him from all angles. Luckily, his house isn’t too far away from the library. It’s only a mile. He’d just wanted a taxi ride this morning because why walk when you can get a ride? Now he’s wishing he had another ride.

As he nears the bridge that arches over the large river which runs through his town his eyes begin to water because of the harsh winds. He blinks rapidly to try and clear his vision, blowing at a stray strand of green hair as it falls into his face. He doesn’t want to remove his hands from his pockets because they’ll freeze if he does and he’s just now gotten them warm in his pockets. He steps onto the bridge and partly remembers that this is the halfway mark between the library and his house. That thought improves his stride and lifts his spirits slightly.

A putrid smell hits his nose as he reaches the middle of the bridge. The smell is so terrible he has to stop as his nostrils burn and the scent travels down his throat, making him want to throw up so badly he leans on the railing of the bridge for a moment. He coughs a little, the horrid smell of rotting flesh surrounding him. He shakes his head to try and clear his nostrils of the horrid scent but it remains. He lifts his head, swallowing heavily against the bile rising in his throat to glance around, searching for the source of the smell. He vaguely thinks that any person with half a brain would already be gone, the smell warning anyone of some kind of danger. But Jack felt drawn to stay oddly enough. In the back of his mind he knew he should leave, but.. he felt like he had to see what was causing the stench.

He angles his head backwards, squinting his eyes to better see through the screen of rushing snow as he glances out over the railing onto the frozen water. His eyes widen at the sight.

There, standing on what should be too thin of ice, was the figure of a man slowly moving towards the bridge. Jack clears his throat and straightens up, keeping one hand wrapped so tightly around the freezing railing that his knuckles began to change to white, heart thumping loudly in his ears.

Hey there, Jackie, the voice was in his ears, in his head, everywhere and he could hear nothing but the scratchy tone that sounded so similar to a hissing snake. It had the lilt of an Irish accent, similar to Jack’s, which was slightly strange because he’s in Brighton, not Ireland. It’s a bit cold out for a walk, dontcha think?

Well, yeah, of course it’s way too damn cold, he already knew that. He slowly blinks and swallows heavily, taking a small step backwards as the figure draws nearer. He hadn’t been expecting the face of the man to look just like his.

The man looks just like him. Has the same face, the same green, dyed hair, same structure and the same kind of clothing Jack wears during the summer. The only difference would be that the man appears to be a few inches taller… and the fact his eyes are glowing a vibrant green, head tilted back with a twisted grin splitting his face. And as Jack notices how he has on only a thin, black t shirt with black and ripped jeans, he wonders how the hell this strange man isn’t freezing currently.

And, for some reason, Jack can’t look away from those glowing green eyes.

Do you wanna warm up, Jackie? It continues to speak and Jack knows it’s an it because this man could not really be a man. Now as his vision further adjusts to the darkness of this winter night he can see how the pale skin on the look alike is cracking, peeling in the violent winds. Bits of its skin is slowly ripped from its body, mixing with the snow as it blows away. Jack then takes notice of the green balloon that is being held tightly in its hand, blowing towards him… against the wind. How the hell is that possible? It should be buffeted backwards, not forwards. Here, do you want a balloon? See how it floats?

Jack knows he should flee. But he feels suddenly paralyzed and he cannot move away, only able to meet the peering gaze of whatever it is. It is stepping ever closer, raising the balloon in an offering fashion as it grins up at him, sharp and pointed fangs shining with a layer of saliva. Jack nearly screams as more of the skin peels away from its chest and a wave of spiders crawls from its flesh, spreading outwards and across its body. And even with one of his worst fears pouring from the creature’s chest he still can’t move, only able to watch as more and more of the small and black monsters cover its body, taking on the appearance of the black t shirt with how many of them there are.

You’ll float, too, Jackie, the creature whispers in his brain and he had forgotten about the other, larger monster because of the spiders. He let’s out a surprised gasp as the green balloon is now directly in front of his face. He falls onto his ass, eyes widening as a crumbled and cracked hand lands on the edge of the bridge between his legs, sharp nails digging into the stone surface. He screams as some of the spiders crawl from the hand onto his legs, each one being around the size of his hand. Their long and spindly legs arch as they climb towards his knees, their eyes seeming to glow a bright red. Their pincer like mouths open and close repeatedly, snapping out from their long and hairy faces and he screams again, batting at his legs, kicking at the slick and snowy ground. A few of the large spiders manage to stay clinging on as he scampers to his feet, slapping crazily at them, forgetting about the much larger threat pulling itself over the side of the bridge, the grin wider, reaching from ear tip to ear tip as it watches the scene unfolding.

Only when the final spider is knocked from his leg does Jack remember the horrid smelling lookalike that is now standing directly behind him, green balloon somehow floating directly beside his face. He slowly turns, breath catching in his throat as he’s met with the green gaze of the monster directly above him, eyes shining dangerously as a hand slowly begins to raise. He’s once more paralyzed as the spider covered hand reaches out for his shoulder, hardly able to even breathe as those piercing greens peer into his very soul, pinning him there. That’s when the large, bug like leg extends from the creature’s back, landing on the ground near his feet. This leg is soon followed by three more and a huge, armoured face emerges from behind the monster’s head, two, green glowing eyes landing on him.

He knew then that if he did not move, if he did not run, he would be devoured by one of these terrifying monsters. Unless they were the same thing, merely working together. But that thought did not come to mind as Jack slapped the spider covered hand away from him with a low growl, feet slamming the ground with soft thuds as he begins to sprint away, eliciting an unearthly roar from one of the two creatures.

Jack stumbles as he runs from the bridge, right foot hitting a patch of ice that nearly causes him to slip, to fall. But he catches himself, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he steps into the blanket of snow, making him run faster than he had ever thought possible. Clouds of his quick breathing continuously hits him in the face, making it even more difficult to see where it is he’s going. His legs only seem to move even faster when hears footsteps behind him, making the snow crunch loudly and he is too terrified to look over his shoulder. He loses sight of where it is he is running, everything turning to a blur as he just runs.

He only stops when he trips, falling to his knees, hands falling into the snow as the white stuff bites at his skin. That’s when a shadow falls over him, masking his view of any light. He slowly peers over his shoulder, heart stopping at the sight of the man towering over him, those spider like legs sticking from his back still, the head continuing to raise as the legs shift, pushing away from the creature.

You’ll float too, Jackie, the voice growls now and that’s the only thing he can hear, even over his own heartbeat, over the howling of the wind, over the hissing and choppy squeals of the gigantic spider. Come join the clown and you’ll float too…

The last sign that Jack had been walking home was the sound of his pained scream, echoing through the windy and dark night like a ghost.

____

I hope y’all enjoyed!

And Jack, if you read this, know that you helped me start writing again. It had always been my dream to become an author since I was younger but at one point I had lost my spark. You inspired me to write again. It maybe fanfiction, but fanfiction writing is better than no writing. So thank you for helping me to find my passion again.

#septicart #jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #writing

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dragonandtiger · 7 years

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Digimon 00 - Fragments - 22

The massive steel doors gave way like tissue paper, bursting inward beneath Nyamon’s gauntlet as she punched her way in. With the entryway no longer barred, the three Chosen Children and their Digimon rushed inside. Nyamon led the way, with Leomon, Witchmon, FlaWizarmon, Mystimon, and Wormmon in hot pursuit as the children took up the rear.

The group was immediately greeted by a dark throne room, shrouded completely in darkness. Stone pillars lined the walls with a massive throne of gold at the far end of the room, with only the light from the door chasing away the shadows that obscured them - without much success.

Ryo glanced about the room, clenching his fists. His eyes searched the shadow, to little success, before he scowled. “Chimeramon!” His voice echoed through the room. “We know you’re here!”

“Your army has been defeated,” Leomon said, his sword drawn. “This all ends with you!”

From the far side of the room, a pair of golden eyes stared at the humans from the safety of the shadows. The most of its body was obscured by the dim lighting, though pointed ears and a long tail could be seen even with the cover of darkness. After a moment, the small form quickly scurried behind the pillars, out of view before the intruders could spot it. The sound of footsteps caught Nyamon’s attention, who whirled to focus where the eyes had been moments before.

“Show yourself!” Nyamon demanded, pointing her claws at the side of the room and the shadows that lurked there.

“An’ don’t think of tryin’ to detonate your decoy again,” FlaWizarmon said as he twirled his matchstick. “Witchmon’ll just warp it out again~!”

“I certainly don’t mind,” Witchmon said with a giggle as she sat on her broom. “There’s something rather amusing about using your ‘ultimate weapon’ to blow up your own forces~!”

“Justice will prevail. You will answer for your crimes,” Mystimon said as he brandished his sword menacingly at the unseen foe they addressed. “Submit yourself to Lord Xuanwumon’s judgment!”

A pregnant silence descended over the room, devoid of reply. If the group hadn’t known any better, they would have thought that the room was completely empty, and they had been shouting threats at nothing.

However, they did know better.

Leomon narrowed his eyes, his tail lashing behind him. “Stop hiding, you coward, and fight!”

“Coward? You think I am afraid of you?” a voice sneered from within the darkness. “I, who is nigh a god compared to such a motley crew of vermin?”

The ground before the throne began to glow gold and, before the Chosen’s very eyes, a form materialized in front of them. Data flew in from every corner of the room, taking the form of a massive, grotesque Digimon they had never seen before. A massive four-armed beast with a black upper body, dark purple legs, and twin cannons attached to his back. Glowing gold and blue energy hovered just above his skin, taking the form of the upper torso of a dragon that draped across his back and shoulders like an ephemeral shawl. He glared down at the Chosen through a jagged black mask, which sported a single, massive horn on the tip of his nose and allowed only his golden eyes and wild purple hair to peek out from beneath it.

“How disappointing for you,” the Digimon said, with a sneer. “To come all this way, to fight so hard, only to fail.” He chuckled before rearing up to his hind legs.. “But worry not. In my infinite mercy, I am bestowing upon you a great honor - death by my own claws.”

“That voice…,” Ken muttered, his eyes widening. “Chimeramon!?”

The massive beast paused before he gave a derisive snort. “Do try to keep up, you stupid dreck. Chimeramon was nothing than my previous outdated form. I have surpassed Chimeramon, evolving into perfection, and stand before you now as Millenniumon. Lord Millenniumon to you.”

Ken blinked slowly before he furrowed his brow. “But… you said you were perfect as Chimeramon-”

“As I said,” Millenniumon said, sharply. “Try - to - keep - up, you - stupid - dreck.”

Ken flinched before he stepped back, bringing up his arms defensively as if to ward away the massive Digimon’s words.

Ryo stepped in front of Ken to shield the younger boy, his gaze never straying from their enemy. “Calling yourself perfect all the time isn’t enough to convince anyone when you keep changing what you look like every time we defeat you.”

Keiko moved to Ryo’s side as she cracked her knuckles. “Be a good boy and stay dead this time.”

Millenniummon let out a low growl before he crouched, the two cannons on his back dropping down to aim over his shoulders at the humans. “You’ll pay for your insolence, rodents!”

Nyamon quickly dove in front of Keiko and Ryo, bringing her claws up defensively. Leomon similarly moved in front, using his sword as a shield. Together, the two blocked the cannon shots, deflecting them off so that they hit the pillars to either side of the room, caving the walls in.

“Keiko!” Nyamon said, her ears canting back.

Keiko nodded as she raised her Digivice. “Right.”

Nyamon glowed with the light of evolution, rapidly flying through the next stage in her evolutionary chain before arriving at the very top. No longer a cat, Nyamon instead turned into a beautiful woman with long flowing black hair that fell past her feet as a pair of black wings spread out wide behind her. White robes reminiscent of a greek goddess appeared on her body, coiling around her legs and arms, before she reached up as a scythe manifested seemingly out of thin air. Twirling it about, she turned to glare her ruby eyes at her opponent. “Nyxmon!”

Leomon similarly began to glow as evolution took over him as well. The anthropomorphic lion was replaced with a far more primal beast, a golden lion with black feet and matching black saber tusks in his mouth, with strange golden runes etched into the tusks. His mane puffed out like a frilled necklace, the tips bright red to match the hair on the tip of his tail, the stripes that covered his body, and the bands on the four strands of orange hair that trailed out the back of his head. His large ears flicked back as he crouched, letting out a roar. “Saber Leomon!”

“Get back, Ken!” Ryo said as he moved protectively in front of the younger boy.

Ken scooped up Wormmon in his arms and stepped back, his expression uneasy. “O-okay…”

“Don’t worry, Ken-chan!” Wormmon said. “I’ll protect you!”

“Learn to protect yourself first, before you make promises you have no hope of keeping!” Millenniumon retorted before he aimed his cannons at the two Ultimates, firing again. “Die!”

Nyxmon used her scythe to block the attacks, so that it didn’t come near the human children as they quickly retreated to safety by the entrance to the room. “How can you kill Death?”

“By being a god!” Millenniummon retorted before he shot again, watching as Nyxmon and Saber Leomon both scattered to try and maneuver around him.

“What’s a god to a nonbeliever?” Ryo said with a cheeky grin.

“Just as dead!” Millenniummon snapped back, whipping his claw about to smack Saber Leomon away when the beast tried to pounce on his flank.

Keiko folded her arms in front of her and regarded Millenniummon with a cool look as she watched the battle closely. “You really are pathetic. No matter how many times you reinvent yourself, you’re never going to be as good as you claim to be.”

Millenniummon’s cheek twitched before he whirled to face Keiko, his golden eyes narrowed with rage. He aimed both cannons at the diminutive girl. “Let us see you make that claim when you’re scattered in pieces across the room!”

As the massive dragon turned his attention away to the children, Nyxmon was the opportunity to lunge at Millenniummon’s exposed back - his cannons in particular. The blade of her scythe slashed at the left-most cannon and, despite the weapon currently charging, managed to neatly slice off the tip.

Millenniummon let out a startled roar as the cannon sparked before releasing its energy outward in a blast, damaging not only itself but the left side of its owner’s back and its comrade parked next to it.

Saber Leomon followed up the assault by launching himself at the mighty dragon’s leg, biting hard into his calf as he plunged in his massive fangs. He was rewarded for his actions with a yowl, and a violent shake before he was ripped free and flung across the room.

Millenniummon crouched as he let out a growl, bits of golden data slowly reforming around his wounds, sealing not only the gaping wound on his leg but repairing his cannon as well. “You’ll have to do better than that, fools. Much, much better.”

“Crud,” Ryo muttered under his breath.

Keiko sighed before straightening her back. “Another battle of attrition it is.”

#Dreaming To Reality #digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #Fragments

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