Re: IC -2 - Yesterday Upon the Stair - Everyone
Posted: Mon Sep 04, 2023 11:29 pm
The glinting blade slices towards Darren, he ducks back, to avoid Roger's reach. But he can't get far enough away. The knife...darting at him, then...crunch...Louis impacts into Roger and knocks him to the side, the two boys crashing to the ground locked in a struggling embrace. Fists ineffectually pounding against a disconcerting, intangible, body. Writhing and wriggling in Louis's hands. He struggles to get a firm grasp, the limbs seeming to contract, like the contents have slipped from beneath his grasp leaving nothing but elastic, pliant skin. Thrashing on the floor, Louis feels something sharp in his ribs, a searing burning pain, deep, tearing, hurting... He rolls off Roger and puts his hand to his chest in disbelief, his fingers come away wet. Blinking his eyes, Louis's vision blurs, he holds up his hands to see the blood dripping from his fingers.
-----
Seeing Louis and Roger go down, Shirley screams, 'No!!!' and fires several more ball bearings at the swaying, blank eyed figure of Ace he stands between her and the witch. The tiny metal pellets spatter across his face and he raises his hands dumbly against his skin. The little rips in his skin stretch and tear, the splits coalescing to form a break across his face, beneath one eye and running down to the corner of his mouth. He staggers backwards probing the gap with clumsy fingers as something begins to spill out of the hole. It looks like little insects and worms, dropping from the wound and dropping down to the ground where they scurry and scuttle away. He opens his mouth in a silent scream and the break in his skin tears open to run across his open mouth all the way to his ear as his whole head begins to dehisce and fall apart. Toppling backwards, the disintegrating form of Ace Simmons collapses into the bulk of the witch and propels her back into the wall of flame that has engulfed the books, papers, and shelves in the niche beyond her.
-----
This is the moment. Harry is completely at one with his surroundings. He can feel every tendril of existence, vibrating, humming around him, the eternal symphony of the spheres. There is no time, there is no space. There is only Harry Enslin. The alpha and omega. The all. And the nothing. The everything. He looks at the witch. Truly sees her. Sees her pathetic attempts to cling on to her tortured half-life. She does not deserve to live. She does not deserve to exist. And with a single thought he snuffs her out.
The flames roar and the witch is consumed in an inferno, her sagging flesh charring and melting, the fat liquifying, spitting and dripping to pool in the mud. Her face is nothing but a blistering, distorted mask of pain and hatred.
'Now I Am Become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds.'
-----
As the witch burns, Darren watches with a grotesque fascination as the prone form of Roger starts to lose its definition, seems to come apart at the seems, flaps of skin becoming disconnected from the whole. And from inside centipedes, wriggling earth worms, maggots, earwigs, beetles, cockroaches, even mice and little rats seems to spill out and spread across the dirt floor.
Above their heads the bats and bat-things emit an unearthly shrieking scream. And from the tunnels in the earthen walls, and among the scurrying rodents rushing across the mud, they all stop for a second and raise their little whiskered snouts to join in the screeching, howling lament.
-----
Seeing Louis and Roger go down, Shirley screams, 'No!!!' and fires several more ball bearings at the swaying, blank eyed figure of Ace he stands between her and the witch. The tiny metal pellets spatter across his face and he raises his hands dumbly against his skin. The little rips in his skin stretch and tear, the splits coalescing to form a break across his face, beneath one eye and running down to the corner of his mouth. He staggers backwards probing the gap with clumsy fingers as something begins to spill out of the hole. It looks like little insects and worms, dropping from the wound and dropping down to the ground where they scurry and scuttle away. He opens his mouth in a silent scream and the break in his skin tears open to run across his open mouth all the way to his ear as his whole head begins to dehisce and fall apart. Toppling backwards, the disintegrating form of Ace Simmons collapses into the bulk of the witch and propels her back into the wall of flame that has engulfed the books, papers, and shelves in the niche beyond her.
-----
This is the moment. Harry is completely at one with his surroundings. He can feel every tendril of existence, vibrating, humming around him, the eternal symphony of the spheres. There is no time, there is no space. There is only Harry Enslin. The alpha and omega. The all. And the nothing. The everything. He looks at the witch. Truly sees her. Sees her pathetic attempts to cling on to her tortured half-life. She does not deserve to live. She does not deserve to exist. And with a single thought he snuffs her out.
The flames roar and the witch is consumed in an inferno, her sagging flesh charring and melting, the fat liquifying, spitting and dripping to pool in the mud. Her face is nothing but a blistering, distorted mask of pain and hatred.
'Now I Am Become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds.'
-----
As the witch burns, Darren watches with a grotesque fascination as the prone form of Roger starts to lose its definition, seems to come apart at the seems, flaps of skin becoming disconnected from the whole. And from inside centipedes, wriggling earth worms, maggots, earwigs, beetles, cockroaches, even mice and little rats seems to spill out and spread across the dirt floor.
Above their heads the bats and bat-things emit an unearthly shrieking scream. And from the tunnels in the earthen walls, and among the scurrying rodents rushing across the mud, they all stop for a second and raise their little whiskered snouts to join in the screeching, howling lament.