The first entry in this year's batch of exquisite corpses had a very fitting theme for spooky season! This corpse centered on all things morbid, ghastly, and macabre, and we got some lovely range from camp to outright horror in the final product. The following authors contributed to this corpse:
Thanks to everyone who came together to make this corpse happen! The timing was nearly perfect, and I think the result is a lot of fun. Without further ado, let's get to...
Part One
The Strange House looked so average compared to what Neil’s journey suggested. It fit well against the backdrop of Reversal Mountain. Same bleached, red-rock exterior, standing strong against the cliffs. At least, until the sun angled just right and vanished it against the mountain, crushing it into a dark earthen haze. Only the three smeared windows and wind-buffed wood supports stood out. Eyes and bones embedded in the rock.
Then, the light glinting off an upstairs window reminded Neil of candlelight. He shivered, drawing his shawl tighter around him. The wool itched. Not that he could complain. Not about gifts. Especially those protecting him from the encroaching night. He’d forgotten Reversal Mountain got cold as the sun set. But the same crone who’d told him about the Strange House reminded him, thankfully, and let him borrow her shawl. He felt a bit odd with something so traditional draped over his nylon trainer jacket, but…
Well, nobody was around. Nobody to judge him. Nothing but the endless brambles that scored his hike, scratching up his uncovered legs. That and the stray hissing and scrounging of wild pokemon that watched on from above.
He scuffed his boots against the arid earth, eyeing the door. A layer of grit stained it so heavily it blended with the wall. A hand felt at his belt as he stomped up the porch. The warm metal of his pokeballs were a comfort, at least, still nestled at his hip, jostling eagerly against his fingers while he tried not to get caught on any of the torn boards leading up to the doorway.
The door had a tiny window. Squinting through it didn’t reveal much. A murk lingered behind it, cracks hanging over it like webs. Squinting didn’t help much. Dark gray blobs against a darker gray backdrop. Sometimes they moved. Or didn’t—it was hard to tell.
But there were ghost-types here, so said the crone. She also said the house itself was alive, so maybe not, but he was inclined to believe her about the ghosts, at least.
They were skittish, weren’t they? He hoped so. He’d like some peace trying to contact the dead, though the other edge of peace was sharp. Peace also meant support would be scarce— here, with no signal, with light dimming every minute he waited and the only three people who knew he’d come here too far to reach. He could only count on his breath misting against the window. The tattered shawl over his shoulders and his pokemon sleeping at his hip. That had to be enough.
He wrapped his hand around the doorknob—this dull thing that sunk into his hand like a weight. The grime stuck in the mechanism. He grunted, jerking it back and forth until the bolt slid open with a dying whine. Through all the creaking, he feared he might break it. And though the superstition was lost on him, he’d still prefer to avoid taking chances on ancient things like this.
Neil took a deep breath of stale air.The Strange House welcomed him. All the day’s contained heat rushed to meet him, to draw him into the darkness and the dull beige of old furniture and rich sparkle of antiques that the sunlight forced to shine. He allowed himself one last glance at the towering cliffs of Reversal mountain. But he couldn’t contact the dead out there, so he took the house’s invitation—loosened his grip on his shawl and stepped further into the warmth, letting the door creak shut behind him.
Part Two
A chill, one not brought on by the temperatures, settled over Al—---No. Names were a dangerous power, and his name needed to remain with him in a place like this. He set his mind away from his name and on his goal. His heart's deepest desire. Contact his beloved partner, who he’d lost at sea. It had been months, with no word. It tore his soul apart to not know if his partner was alive or dead.
This house was said to be one of very few ‘geistviels’ left anywhere, particularly Unova. Places where the veil between the world of the spirits and material plane was nearly non-existent. It was dangerous, incredibly so. Spirits were finnicky, tricky beings. There were rules when dealing with them. Never threaten them, never make demands, and never give them your name. Anything that asked your name didn’t need to know it, as the saying went.
“G̷̙͊Ȩ̴̄T̸̢̆ ̵͓͊Ö̷̞́U̸͙̽T̶̼̽!̸̬̃”
The guttural cry filled the room. A spike of terror plunged through his chest and he whipped around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice.
“Ḻ̷͗E̵̯̚A̷̳͑V̴̰͗Ḛ̷̔ ̷͙̉Ṅ̷̦O̴̼͌W̸̼͗”
Pressure hummed through the air. Outside, it began to grow dark, as if the sun were setting. Impossible, it had only been minutes. Frantically, he looked down at his watch, but the numbers shifted and distorted.
“Please! I have come with a humble spirit and no ill will in my heart. I wish to know if my friend still lives!”
“G̵͙̈́Ȯ̸̮ ̶̩͊Ń̶͇Ơ̸̗ ̸̦͠F̸̺̄Ŭ̵͓R̵̰͌T̶̙̀H̶͍̆E̶̡͂R̸͎̅ ̵̢̇Ȍ̵͓R̷͈̀ ̵̛͈S̶͖̐Ů̷͔F̸͙̄F̸̹̏Ē̵̙R̷̜̔ ̸̖̓Ṱ̴̇H̴͇͌E̵̋ͅ ̶̜̀-M̵̱͐O̷̰͊O̸͈͛N̷̛̹S̸̡͠ ̶̜͌Ẁ̶̲R̸̯͒A̸̞̒T̴̝͋Ḣ̷̬!̷͈̍”
Shuddering, he took a step forward. The new moon's wrath. Darkrai. Nightmare bringer, the one said to be responsible for that girl's death that caused all this.
“I have no quarrel with you.” He focused on his lost partner. “Aiga, if you can hear me, say something!”
The room twisted; something pushing him back—
“-arf!”
A cry from further inside, up the stairs. Desperation swallowed him and he plunged ahead. Steps heavy, like wading through mud. Blackness oozed down the walls and across the floor towards him.
The eyes of a picture hanging on the wall turned upon him, but he ignored it, throwing himself up the stairs. Whispers started. Right next to his ear— behind— he whirled, but the base of the stairs and the first floor had vanished, becoming a barren forest and a dull red sky. A blur of movement behind a far off tree and a glimpse of blue eyes poured terror into him.
Spinning back around and he scrambled up the steps, tripping and stumbling unnaturally, clawed hands yanking at his shawl. He dropped the cloth and heaved himself the last few steps to the top of the stairs, falling on his stomach. Panting, he peered over his shoulder as he got to his feet.
Inky blackness met his eyes. The stairs had been consumed by a wall of darkness. Unnervingly, no more whispers or sounds from below. Only smothering silence. A yelp escaped him and he turned to look back down the hallway. Wh— the walls had shifted, warping inwards slightly. It stretched on unnaturally, ending shadow.
Ccreeeaaaakkkk.
Creeakk. Creak
Steps, heavy footfalls coming towards him from below..
C̵̛̦r̶̭̿r̶̖̀e̷̬͆e̸͙͗a̵̱͒a̶̖̎k̴̃ͅk̴̡̃.̴̻̆
He sprinted down the hallway as the footsteps behind him abruptly picked up in pace. They thundered behind him, but he kept running.
Fear rose inside him. He thought of his partner and pressed on.
A light glimmered in the distance. Without thinking, he ran even faster.
Come quickly!
A shrill voice called.
Do not give into the darkness!
The light drew closer, closer until suddenly he stumbled into a dimly lit bedroom, the ominous footsteps behind him fading. The door shut and he looked up to see... “Cresselia?” he breathed, eyes wide with shock.
The crescent moon legendary floated before him, her eyes shimmering with fear and relief. “Are you alright, human?”
He nodded.
“Why have you come to this terrible place? Did you not know it is Darkrai’s prison?”
“I came,” he panted, “for my friend. I wished to know if he was still alive. I needed somewhere I could speak to the dead.” he paused. “Please, can you help me?”
“I see. I’m afraid I cannot help you. I am a prisoner here. I tried to save a little girl long ago, but Darkrai trapped me here. He was so consumed by malice he locked us both here. I can no longer bless the world with good dreams.” She tipped her head to the side. “But perhaps you can help me. Humans can counter his nightmares, as you just did. If I am freed, I can walk the world of dreams and perhaps find your friend.”
His heart lifted. “You can? Oh thank you Cresselia!” he breathed in relief.
“Thank you!” she chirped happily. “I have been trapped for so long. I owe you much— oh, what is your name, brave human?”
“Alder,” you said.
“Y̸̥̌Ó̴̩Ǘ̶̘ ̴̢̛F̵̽ͅO̶͚͝Õ̵͖L̵̮̄.”
You smiled. Oh it felt nice to smile in this body. You saw Cresselia’s form flicker, and the old body fell to the floor. The room around you shook, howling in silent rage as the walls darkened helplessly.
Darkrai’s rage was bliss to you. Your imprisoner could not hold you anymore. Somewhere in you, you sensed the silly human’s unease, and swiftly crushed it. Finally you were free of the shackles of Darkrai. Free to escape this wretched place and prey on all the lovely dreams you wanted, while he would be trapped here for all eternity. “Goodbye,” you said, a malicious smile creeping across your stolen face.
Part Three
With liberation yours, you clawed your way up from the darkness of Darkrai's netherworld, aching to taste the air of the mortal world on your looted tongue. You longed to grace your new eyes with the expressions of your future victims, twisted into the most ecstasy-inducing looks of terror. It would all be so worth the hassle; so worth the trek. You picked up the pace in your digging, that thought alone filling you with an unshakeable eagerness to get started.
You were reborn under the blood moon, in the dead of night, right in the middle of a forest that didn't look any different from Darkrai's land. But, unlike the netherworld, a light breeze jostled the bare tree branches, and not a sound could be heard for miles. As you stood, savoring your new senses, righting your head, enjoying the feeling of freedom, you considered what your first line of action would be. So many dreams to feast upon, and so little time in the night. You would likely need assistance. But from what...
Well, with your newfound power, courtesy of trapping Darkrai, the possibilities were endless. Conjuring your heinous henchmen would simply be a walk in the cemetery for you. And gods knew you were aching for such an activity. But, things needed to be done first.
You found a clearing in the woods that was both plenty large enough for your particular tastes, and bathed in the red light of the moon. You enjoyed making a spectacle out of your more gorey works, so you were careful to leave plenty of space for the ingredients you would need. Not to mention, the moon beams would prove integral to your ritual.
Despite the woods being quite idle, finding your unwilling sacrifices proved effortless. Skwovet weren't exactly the most intelligent species of Pokemon, so luring them out of their burrows wasn't much of a hex on your time. It was made staggeringly easier by the nubile features you'd taken on; even the brainless squirrels could not resist your surface-level charms.
You spent a lot of time rearranging what was left of those seven rodents onto your circle. This would be your debut into the mortal world, so it had to be nothing less than flawless. The blood on your hands felt like the inviting embrace of a distant friend (not that you had many of those), and you replayed the sounds of your victim's petrified squeals in your head over and over again. They were sounds that proved comforting to you. Reminded you who you were. What you could do.
By the time your toiling had paid off, the moon was still high in the sky. You still had the company of nightfall for a little while longer.
You stood before your first masterpiece and chanted the words that came to you like second nature.
The sanguine mess of those skwovet began to glow along the lines you'd etched into the dirt. Beams from their mounds of flesh shot upward, meeting with those cast down by the moon. The forest soon sought to accompany your song, as it seemed the rustling of the tree branches and the dissonant whispers of leaves being blown about on the ground lined up with your tempo. You couldn't help but grin.
The brilliance of your otherworldly lightshow illuminated the immediate area and was only growing brighter with each passing phrase. Power churned within you, like the waves of an angry river. Your core, rotten as could be, trembled with a newfound ecstasy. You truly began to feel yourself becoming one with your will. One with your desires.
It happened in an instant. A burst of foreboding light blinded you for the briefest second, and you shied away on pure instinct. Something gnawed at your nerves, letting you know that whatever you had just done was still at work. You only looked up when you felt the sensation fade, and could see the light flittering out through the gaps in your fingers.
No more were the piles of entrails left behind by those skwovet. In their place hovered masses of deadly purple energy. Ghastly faces of narrow, malicious eyes and wideset toothy grins stared back at you, each one adorned with a set of hands that looked as if they could tear through a torterra in one fell swoop.
Your new helpers. They were beautiful.
The smallest, faintest laugh came out of you, as you were momentarily unsure of how to respond to the sight before you. Your lasting sense of euphoria from the ritual mixed with your fighting senses of glee, and a prickling unease toward what you were supposed to do next.
You decided, first and foremost, that these things needed a title to be called by.
"Mm..." you hummed, tapping one of your blood-crusted fingertips to your perfect chin.
"Haunter. You will all henceforth be known as haunters."
You were never really creative with the names but it was catchy enough. It got the point across.
And with that settled, your first round of orders came to mind. A wicked smile curled your lips, and you held your arms out in front of you triumphantly.
"As your master, my first order is simple...fetch me the tastiest dreams you can find. Bodies and all. I would like to relish in the entire meal, and not just a single course. Whoever can bestow me the best-tasting dish will be heavily rewarded."
Part Four
I look at all the ghosts around me, their faces hungry. I don’t know what that reward entails and I guess neither does anyone else, but I want it. If for nothing else, to be better than everyone and that much closer to Master.
“You are dismissed,” says Master, and all the ghosts turn to each other. Then, they begin dashing for the cave walls, turning intangible just before phasing through. Well, what am I waiting for? I better do the same!
I shoot for the wall and phase through, seeing nothing but darkness for a few seconds before I make it past the rock and emerge into the air of Lavender Town’s outskirts. The sky is clear, but anyone capable of sensing aura would smell dozens of ghosts flying for the town.
I join the armada and keep flying as fast as I can, my gaseous trail stretched far behind me. It’s a good thing today isn’t windy, or I’d end up who knows where. Did Master specifically choose a day the winds were still to give his command? Oh, he’s so wise! I love Mas- hey!
I barely dodge the shadow ball. I turn to its source - a misdreavus with one of her pearls cracked and a smirk on her face. It’s that bitch, Too-Daring!
“I’m gonna find Master the best offering, and he’s gonna promote me, and I’m gonna order everyone to eat you,” she mocks through aura.
“You will not!” I shout back, as loud as I can make my aura. “I’m gonna bring Master the best offering, and he’s gonna promote me, and I’m gonna order everyone to eat you!”
“As if,” Too-Daring says. “You couldn’t sniff out a human being murdered around the corner!”
“Oh yeah? Well you couldn’t smell an entire war in front of you!”
“I could still see it, dumbass!”
“I have no ass! I’m a gastly!”
“You are the ass, you ass!”
I can’t think of a comeback, so I turn tangible and throw a shadow ball at her. She dodges it easily.
“Living up to your name, Misses-Every-Shot,” she sneers. “And this shot to impress Master is another one you’re gonna miss. Smell you later!”
With that, she turns invisible again, flies off and fans out from the others. Dammit! I’m behind from the others now, and it’s all Too-Daring’s fault!
I turn intangible myself and keep flying, sniffing the traces of aura in the air. There’s plenty of places with negative emotions, but other ghosts have already made it there. They’ve got dibs. I have to find someone who hasn’t been found yet.
The further I fly, the fewer ghosts I sense around me. I pick up an unattended strong spike of sorrow up ahead. It’s coming from an apartment building. I fly closer and pinpoint the source as being on the third floor. I phase through the wall of the first apartment --
I see a man tied to a chair and a woman in black leather with a whip. Her stern look melts in an instant as she notices me. She must be aura-sensitive.
“Oh, shit, there’s a ghost!” she shouts.
The man grimaces. “Seriously? I told you, I’m not roleplaying ghost voyerism!”
She points to me. “No, really, there’s a --”
I leave before she can finish her sentence, headed for the source of the sorrow. Finally, I arrive at a living room where a young woman with blue hair is crying on the couch, phone in her hand. Tears and snot streaming down her face, she types something. I lean closer to see what she’s saying.
i cant beleive they killed katashi… im fuckign crying so hard…
Oh, this woman has lost a dear friend! In a murder, no less. No wonder she’s sad!
why do i even bother? theyre killing all my blorbos… i should just quit this show…
Even more death? Cripes! I don’t know what a ‘blorbo’ is, but it seems like a term for a dear friend. And she wants to quit this show? This show of life? She’s even suicidal!
I grin to myself. Fantastic! This one seems beyond traumatized! She must have a lot of delicious nightmares for Master to eat! But how am I going to convince her to come back to the cave…?
Part Five
“Master doesn’t need to know,” we chitters. “Master is one of those tricksy hobbitses, always pushing Sayble to do his dirty work for him! No, Precious, we will keep the foods—” we smiles as a nasty, evil, wonderful thought comes to our head.
“For us.”
We looks back at the fat one before us. So nice, fat, and juicy, she is! Sayble sees that she has lots of nightmares, yes, but Master mustn’t know about her. We can do away with her on our own.
And so we puts on smiles, and we acts on our best behaviours.
“Come along, Precious!” we calls as we crawl up the rocky ledges around the cave. “We will show you the way! No need to go in that nasty, dark cave! Full of filth, blegh!”
We look back, and we smiles as we sees the fat child crawl up after us. She pants and cries as thorns tear at her clothes and hair.
“Come, come!” we laughs as we leaves the forest and goes to the rocky ledges.
“But—but there are wild Ariados here!” the fat child complains. “I’ve seen them! They’re going to eat me if they find me!”
“No, no nasty Ariadoses here, Precious! Just trust Sayble, follow Sayble, she’ll take you somewhere safe!” But we smiles, because we are so clever: we can turn invisible and fly away, yes we can!
“Agh! What was that?”
The child looks around, her hair sticking to her sweaty, round face.
“I heard something! Something is moving around those rocks—something is following me!” she shrieks.
“Goodbye, Precious!” we cries as we turns invisible and slips away.
Part Six
We slunk away into the night, Precious' screams gradually fading away. Shapeless, we moved like a thick ichor, shambled like a corpse and all we could do was question why.
When all 108 are unbound from a keystone, freedom would be ours. That was what was told, yet we remained bound to each other. The weakers cried in confusion, the strongers tried to tear away, forming sharp maws to snap and pull away from the weakers. Together we shuddered and convulsed into an ectoplasmic mass that stubbornly held together.
Too stable to split, yet too unstable to do anything else.
We hissed, stopping beneath the withered branches of a weeping willow. Even now, the weakers tried to hide in the roots of the tree, only to be pulled back by the strongers who were still attempting to force their way out. We coiled around the trunk to brace ourselves against the intense, spiritual pain.
And then we saw salvation.
A graveyard, abandoned and overgrown laid before us and for once, we could agree on what to do.
We spread ourselves wide, draping over crumbled headstones, dried sticks that used to make up bundles and bundles of roses and, like worms and maggots and lice, we burrowed and burrowed into the moist dirt and cracked coffins. We had to share for we were still bound, but we were free.
Synchronized, we clawed out of the ground, each body in a varying state of decay, rejuvenated by us. Human, pokémon, we did not care, we do not discriminate.
For we had become a legion of the undead.
Part Seven
The hulking beast lumbered forward, dragging lines of translucent, glowing green out of the ground as it went. Tombstones dislodged from their foundations in its wake, crumbling to pieces and swirling up along with sticks and leaves and dirt to adorn the corpses of the bones that rose from their graves, hobbling along in a zombie-like march.
Lt. Surge, posing for the press cameras, struck his most manly pose among the dozens and dozens of gargantuan military cannons and electric-type pokemon trained directly at the thing. Yeah, it was a dangerous, time-sensitive situation, but he had one job, and that job was Look Sexy.
Well. He had two jobs. But. Priorities.
The spiritomb was still gathering bodies from the graveyard to stuff its captive souls into, clobbering any hard material it could find together into an approximation of what it apparently thought a Pikachu was. One of the pikachu at the front lines shuddered.
Lt. Surge dropped his pose, and strode to the front of the equipment, staring the beast down.
“Ready!” he stuck out his arm, pointing at the army of zombie-mon getting closer. The cannons whirred to life behind him, hundreds of pikachu and raichu bracing forwards and summoning electric charge into their tails. Electricity hummed through the air.
Surge’s grin could only grow wider. His eyes danced with flames of destruction.
“FIRE!”
For a moment, it became impossible to see anything over all the light and destruction. Lt. Surge posed again, and hoped the press cameras were able to get his sunglasses-with-explosion shot.
But when the blast cleared, the deafening clap of thunder rattling off into the distance, the errant sparks cleared to reveal a writhing mass of murky black tentacles in the air. Somehow, the thing had gotten larger.
Lt. Surge choked, then disguised it with a clearing of his throat.
‘I’m not getting paid enough for this,’ he thought. “Again! We blast it again!” he said.
The cannons whirred up, the sentry rows of pikachu and raichu preparing another blast, but the spiritomb struck first—hundreds of formless, shapeless souls hurtling out and plunging directly towards the line. Then, the first pikachu turned back, its eyes shining bright green.
"Oh," mouthed Lt. Surge grimly.
Part Eight
And then the Pikachu
l
u
n
g
e
d
...
Lt Surge woke up strapped to something. It was too dark for him to see much, and something was strapped over his mouth, preventing him from talking.
That didn't stop him from trying, though. Yelling obscenities that'd make a Weezing shudder.
"Oh, you're finally awake," someone said, coming into view. Wearing green goggles, and overall looking as if he was one of the undead himself. Of course, Faba was far too alive to be one of them.
Lt Surge tried to attack Faba, but he was still restrained.
"Feisty one, aren't you? Well, no matter. That won't last," Faba said, flicking a switch. The area began to glow with an eerie light, coming from some sort of machine.
"Thought you could escape my zombies, could you?" Faba said, pressing a button. The machine began to whir, a grating sound that pierced Surge's ears.
And Surge began to move, as the conveyer he was strapped to turned on.
"You'll never make it out of here alive. But will you make it out of here dead?" Faba said, watching Surge be fed into his machine. Surge tried to scream, but he was still gagged, and no one who cared could hear.
"Either way," Faba said, "You're going to make one very exquisite corpse."
canisaries
Flyg0n
IFBench
Inkedust
Sinderella
SparklingEspeon
Starlight Aurate
tomatorade
Flyg0n
IFBench
Inkedust
Sinderella
SparklingEspeon
Starlight Aurate
tomatorade
Thanks to everyone who came together to make this corpse happen! The timing was nearly perfect, and I think the result is a lot of fun. Without further ado, let's get to...
Thousand Roads' Exquisite Corpse 2023
Deathly Corpse
Deathly Corpse
Part One
The Strange House looked so average compared to what Neil’s journey suggested. It fit well against the backdrop of Reversal Mountain. Same bleached, red-rock exterior, standing strong against the cliffs. At least, until the sun angled just right and vanished it against the mountain, crushing it into a dark earthen haze. Only the three smeared windows and wind-buffed wood supports stood out. Eyes and bones embedded in the rock.
Then, the light glinting off an upstairs window reminded Neil of candlelight. He shivered, drawing his shawl tighter around him. The wool itched. Not that he could complain. Not about gifts. Especially those protecting him from the encroaching night. He’d forgotten Reversal Mountain got cold as the sun set. But the same crone who’d told him about the Strange House reminded him, thankfully, and let him borrow her shawl. He felt a bit odd with something so traditional draped over his nylon trainer jacket, but…
Well, nobody was around. Nobody to judge him. Nothing but the endless brambles that scored his hike, scratching up his uncovered legs. That and the stray hissing and scrounging of wild pokemon that watched on from above.
He scuffed his boots against the arid earth, eyeing the door. A layer of grit stained it so heavily it blended with the wall. A hand felt at his belt as he stomped up the porch. The warm metal of his pokeballs were a comfort, at least, still nestled at his hip, jostling eagerly against his fingers while he tried not to get caught on any of the torn boards leading up to the doorway.
The door had a tiny window. Squinting through it didn’t reveal much. A murk lingered behind it, cracks hanging over it like webs. Squinting didn’t help much. Dark gray blobs against a darker gray backdrop. Sometimes they moved. Or didn’t—it was hard to tell.
But there were ghost-types here, so said the crone. She also said the house itself was alive, so maybe not, but he was inclined to believe her about the ghosts, at least.
They were skittish, weren’t they? He hoped so. He’d like some peace trying to contact the dead, though the other edge of peace was sharp. Peace also meant support would be scarce— here, with no signal, with light dimming every minute he waited and the only three people who knew he’d come here too far to reach. He could only count on his breath misting against the window. The tattered shawl over his shoulders and his pokemon sleeping at his hip. That had to be enough.
He wrapped his hand around the doorknob—this dull thing that sunk into his hand like a weight. The grime stuck in the mechanism. He grunted, jerking it back and forth until the bolt slid open with a dying whine. Through all the creaking, he feared he might break it. And though the superstition was lost on him, he’d still prefer to avoid taking chances on ancient things like this.
Neil took a deep breath of stale air.The Strange House welcomed him. All the day’s contained heat rushed to meet him, to draw him into the darkness and the dull beige of old furniture and rich sparkle of antiques that the sunlight forced to shine. He allowed himself one last glance at the towering cliffs of Reversal mountain. But he couldn’t contact the dead out there, so he took the house’s invitation—loosened his grip on his shawl and stepped further into the warmth, letting the door creak shut behind him.
tomatorade
Part Two
A chill, one not brought on by the temperatures, settled over Al—---No. Names were a dangerous power, and his name needed to remain with him in a place like this. He set his mind away from his name and on his goal. His heart's deepest desire. Contact his beloved partner, who he’d lost at sea. It had been months, with no word. It tore his soul apart to not know if his partner was alive or dead.
This house was said to be one of very few ‘geistviels’ left anywhere, particularly Unova. Places where the veil between the world of the spirits and material plane was nearly non-existent. It was dangerous, incredibly so. Spirits were finnicky, tricky beings. There were rules when dealing with them. Never threaten them, never make demands, and never give them your name. Anything that asked your name didn’t need to know it, as the saying went.
“G̷̙͊Ȩ̴̄T̸̢̆ ̵͓͊Ö̷̞́U̸͙̽T̶̼̽!̸̬̃”
The guttural cry filled the room. A spike of terror plunged through his chest and he whipped around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice.
“Ḻ̷͗E̵̯̚A̷̳͑V̴̰͗Ḛ̷̔ ̷͙̉Ṅ̷̦O̴̼͌W̸̼͗”
Pressure hummed through the air. Outside, it began to grow dark, as if the sun were setting. Impossible, it had only been minutes. Frantically, he looked down at his watch, but the numbers shifted and distorted.
“Please! I have come with a humble spirit and no ill will in my heart. I wish to know if my friend still lives!”
“G̵͙̈́Ȯ̸̮ ̶̩͊Ń̶͇Ơ̸̗ ̸̦͠F̸̺̄Ŭ̵͓R̵̰͌T̶̙̀H̶͍̆E̶̡͂R̸͎̅ ̵̢̇Ȍ̵͓R̷͈̀ ̵̛͈S̶͖̐Ů̷͔F̸͙̄F̸̹̏Ē̵̙R̷̜̔ ̸̖̓Ṱ̴̇H̴͇͌E̵̋ͅ ̶̜̀-M̵̱͐O̷̰͊O̸͈͛N̷̛̹S̸̡͠ ̶̜͌Ẁ̶̲R̸̯͒A̸̞̒T̴̝͋Ḣ̷̬!̷͈̍”
Shuddering, he took a step forward. The new moon's wrath. Darkrai. Nightmare bringer, the one said to be responsible for that girl's death that caused all this.
“I have no quarrel with you.” He focused on his lost partner. “Aiga, if you can hear me, say something!”
The room twisted; something pushing him back—
“-arf!”
A cry from further inside, up the stairs. Desperation swallowed him and he plunged ahead. Steps heavy, like wading through mud. Blackness oozed down the walls and across the floor towards him.
The eyes of a picture hanging on the wall turned upon him, but he ignored it, throwing himself up the stairs. Whispers started. Right next to his ear— behind— he whirled, but the base of the stairs and the first floor had vanished, becoming a barren forest and a dull red sky. A blur of movement behind a far off tree and a glimpse of blue eyes poured terror into him.
Spinning back around and he scrambled up the steps, tripping and stumbling unnaturally, clawed hands yanking at his shawl. He dropped the cloth and heaved himself the last few steps to the top of the stairs, falling on his stomach. Panting, he peered over his shoulder as he got to his feet.
Inky blackness met his eyes. The stairs had been consumed by a wall of darkness. Unnervingly, no more whispers or sounds from below. Only smothering silence. A yelp escaped him and he turned to look back down the hallway. Wh— the walls had shifted, warping inwards slightly. It stretched on unnaturally, ending shadow.
Ccreeeaaaakkkk.
Creeakk. Creak
Steps, heavy footfalls coming towards him from below..
C̵̛̦r̶̭̿r̶̖̀e̷̬͆e̸͙͗a̵̱͒a̶̖̎k̴̃ͅk̴̡̃.̴̻̆
He sprinted down the hallway as the footsteps behind him abruptly picked up in pace. They thundered behind him, but he kept running.
Fear rose inside him. He thought of his partner and pressed on.
A light glimmered in the distance. Without thinking, he ran even faster.
Come quickly!
A shrill voice called.
Do not give into the darkness!
The light drew closer, closer until suddenly he stumbled into a dimly lit bedroom, the ominous footsteps behind him fading. The door shut and he looked up to see... “Cresselia?” he breathed, eyes wide with shock.
The crescent moon legendary floated before him, her eyes shimmering with fear and relief. “Are you alright, human?”
He nodded.
“Why have you come to this terrible place? Did you not know it is Darkrai’s prison?”
“I came,” he panted, “for my friend. I wished to know if he was still alive. I needed somewhere I could speak to the dead.” he paused. “Please, can you help me?”
“I see. I’m afraid I cannot help you. I am a prisoner here. I tried to save a little girl long ago, but Darkrai trapped me here. He was so consumed by malice he locked us both here. I can no longer bless the world with good dreams.” She tipped her head to the side. “But perhaps you can help me. Humans can counter his nightmares, as you just did. If I am freed, I can walk the world of dreams and perhaps find your friend.”
His heart lifted. “You can? Oh thank you Cresselia!” he breathed in relief.
“Thank you!” she chirped happily. “I have been trapped for so long. I owe you much— oh, what is your name, brave human?”
“Alder,” you said.
“Y̸̥̌Ó̴̩Ǘ̶̘ ̴̢̛F̵̽ͅO̶͚͝Õ̵͖L̵̮̄.”
You smiled. Oh it felt nice to smile in this body. You saw Cresselia’s form flicker, and the old body fell to the floor. The room around you shook, howling in silent rage as the walls darkened helplessly.
Darkrai’s rage was bliss to you. Your imprisoner could not hold you anymore. Somewhere in you, you sensed the silly human’s unease, and swiftly crushed it. Finally you were free of the shackles of Darkrai. Free to escape this wretched place and prey on all the lovely dreams you wanted, while he would be trapped here for all eternity. “Goodbye,” you said, a malicious smile creeping across your stolen face.
Flyg0n
Part Three
With liberation yours, you clawed your way up from the darkness of Darkrai's netherworld, aching to taste the air of the mortal world on your looted tongue. You longed to grace your new eyes with the expressions of your future victims, twisted into the most ecstasy-inducing looks of terror. It would all be so worth the hassle; so worth the trek. You picked up the pace in your digging, that thought alone filling you with an unshakeable eagerness to get started.
You were reborn under the blood moon, in the dead of night, right in the middle of a forest that didn't look any different from Darkrai's land. But, unlike the netherworld, a light breeze jostled the bare tree branches, and not a sound could be heard for miles. As you stood, savoring your new senses, righting your head, enjoying the feeling of freedom, you considered what your first line of action would be. So many dreams to feast upon, and so little time in the night. You would likely need assistance. But from what...
Well, with your newfound power, courtesy of trapping Darkrai, the possibilities were endless. Conjuring your heinous henchmen would simply be a walk in the cemetery for you. And gods knew you were aching for such an activity. But, things needed to be done first.
You found a clearing in the woods that was both plenty large enough for your particular tastes, and bathed in the red light of the moon. You enjoyed making a spectacle out of your more gorey works, so you were careful to leave plenty of space for the ingredients you would need. Not to mention, the moon beams would prove integral to your ritual.
Despite the woods being quite idle, finding your unwilling sacrifices proved effortless. Skwovet weren't exactly the most intelligent species of Pokemon, so luring them out of their burrows wasn't much of a hex on your time. It was made staggeringly easier by the nubile features you'd taken on; even the brainless squirrels could not resist your surface-level charms.
You spent a lot of time rearranging what was left of those seven rodents onto your circle. This would be your debut into the mortal world, so it had to be nothing less than flawless. The blood on your hands felt like the inviting embrace of a distant friend (not that you had many of those), and you replayed the sounds of your victim's petrified squeals in your head over and over again. They were sounds that proved comforting to you. Reminded you who you were. What you could do.
By the time your toiling had paid off, the moon was still high in the sky. You still had the company of nightfall for a little while longer.
You stood before your first masterpiece and chanted the words that came to you like second nature.
"Shi Tai No Maw Aha Nahs Ah,
Nah Ee Dek Dasae Da,
Reka Ga Yon De Ee Ma,
Shindo Gak Ou Reo Ka Kee Mah Shta."
Nah Ee Dek Dasae Da,
Reka Ga Yon De Ee Ma,
Shindo Gak Ou Reo Ka Kee Mah Shta."
The sanguine mess of those skwovet began to glow along the lines you'd etched into the dirt. Beams from their mounds of flesh shot upward, meeting with those cast down by the moon. The forest soon sought to accompany your song, as it seemed the rustling of the tree branches and the dissonant whispers of leaves being blown about on the ground lined up with your tempo. You couldn't help but grin.
"Shi Tai No Maw Aha Nahs Ah,
Nah Ee Dek Dasae Da,
Reka Ga Yon De Ee Ma,
Shindo Gak Ou Reo Ka Kee Mah Shta."
Nah Ee Dek Dasae Da,
Reka Ga Yon De Ee Ma,
Shindo Gak Ou Reo Ka Kee Mah Shta."
The brilliance of your otherworldly lightshow illuminated the immediate area and was only growing brighter with each passing phrase. Power churned within you, like the waves of an angry river. Your core, rotten as could be, trembled with a newfound ecstasy. You truly began to feel yourself becoming one with your will. One with your desires.
"Shi Tai No Maw Aha Nahs Ah,
Nah Ee Dek Dasae Da,
Reka Ga Yon De Ee Ma,
Shindo Gak Ou Reo Ka Kee Mah Shta."
Nah Ee Dek Dasae Da,
Reka Ga Yon De Ee Ma,
Shindo Gak Ou Reo Ka Kee Mah Shta."
It happened in an instant. A burst of foreboding light blinded you for the briefest second, and you shied away on pure instinct. Something gnawed at your nerves, letting you know that whatever you had just done was still at work. You only looked up when you felt the sensation fade, and could see the light flittering out through the gaps in your fingers.
No more were the piles of entrails left behind by those skwovet. In their place hovered masses of deadly purple energy. Ghastly faces of narrow, malicious eyes and wideset toothy grins stared back at you, each one adorned with a set of hands that looked as if they could tear through a torterra in one fell swoop.
Your new helpers. They were beautiful.
The smallest, faintest laugh came out of you, as you were momentarily unsure of how to respond to the sight before you. Your lasting sense of euphoria from the ritual mixed with your fighting senses of glee, and a prickling unease toward what you were supposed to do next.
You decided, first and foremost, that these things needed a title to be called by.
"Mm..." you hummed, tapping one of your blood-crusted fingertips to your perfect chin.
"Haunter. You will all henceforth be known as haunters."
You were never really creative with the names but it was catchy enough. It got the point across.
And with that settled, your first round of orders came to mind. A wicked smile curled your lips, and you held your arms out in front of you triumphantly.
"As your master, my first order is simple...fetch me the tastiest dreams you can find. Bodies and all. I would like to relish in the entire meal, and not just a single course. Whoever can bestow me the best-tasting dish will be heavily rewarded."
Sinderella
Part Four
I look at all the ghosts around me, their faces hungry. I don’t know what that reward entails and I guess neither does anyone else, but I want it. If for nothing else, to be better than everyone and that much closer to Master.
“You are dismissed,” says Master, and all the ghosts turn to each other. Then, they begin dashing for the cave walls, turning intangible just before phasing through. Well, what am I waiting for? I better do the same!
I shoot for the wall and phase through, seeing nothing but darkness for a few seconds before I make it past the rock and emerge into the air of Lavender Town’s outskirts. The sky is clear, but anyone capable of sensing aura would smell dozens of ghosts flying for the town.
I join the armada and keep flying as fast as I can, my gaseous trail stretched far behind me. It’s a good thing today isn’t windy, or I’d end up who knows where. Did Master specifically choose a day the winds were still to give his command? Oh, he’s so wise! I love Mas- hey!
I barely dodge the shadow ball. I turn to its source - a misdreavus with one of her pearls cracked and a smirk on her face. It’s that bitch, Too-Daring!
“I’m gonna find Master the best offering, and he’s gonna promote me, and I’m gonna order everyone to eat you,” she mocks through aura.
“You will not!” I shout back, as loud as I can make my aura. “I’m gonna bring Master the best offering, and he’s gonna promote me, and I’m gonna order everyone to eat you!”
“As if,” Too-Daring says. “You couldn’t sniff out a human being murdered around the corner!”
“Oh yeah? Well you couldn’t smell an entire war in front of you!”
“I could still see it, dumbass!”
“I have no ass! I’m a gastly!”
“You are the ass, you ass!”
I can’t think of a comeback, so I turn tangible and throw a shadow ball at her. She dodges it easily.
“Living up to your name, Misses-Every-Shot,” she sneers. “And this shot to impress Master is another one you’re gonna miss. Smell you later!”
With that, she turns invisible again, flies off and fans out from the others. Dammit! I’m behind from the others now, and it’s all Too-Daring’s fault!
I turn intangible myself and keep flying, sniffing the traces of aura in the air. There’s plenty of places with negative emotions, but other ghosts have already made it there. They’ve got dibs. I have to find someone who hasn’t been found yet.
The further I fly, the fewer ghosts I sense around me. I pick up an unattended strong spike of sorrow up ahead. It’s coming from an apartment building. I fly closer and pinpoint the source as being on the third floor. I phase through the wall of the first apartment --
I see a man tied to a chair and a woman in black leather with a whip. Her stern look melts in an instant as she notices me. She must be aura-sensitive.
“Oh, shit, there’s a ghost!” she shouts.
The man grimaces. “Seriously? I told you, I’m not roleplaying ghost voyerism!”
She points to me. “No, really, there’s a --”
I leave before she can finish her sentence, headed for the source of the sorrow. Finally, I arrive at a living room where a young woman with blue hair is crying on the couch, phone in her hand. Tears and snot streaming down her face, she types something. I lean closer to see what she’s saying.
i cant beleive they killed katashi… im fuckign crying so hard…
Oh, this woman has lost a dear friend! In a murder, no less. No wonder she’s sad!
why do i even bother? theyre killing all my blorbos… i should just quit this show…
Even more death? Cripes! I don’t know what a ‘blorbo’ is, but it seems like a term for a dear friend. And she wants to quit this show? This show of life? She’s even suicidal!
I grin to myself. Fantastic! This one seems beyond traumatized! She must have a lot of delicious nightmares for Master to eat! But how am I going to convince her to come back to the cave…?
canisaries
Part Five
“Master doesn’t need to know,” we chitters. “Master is one of those tricksy hobbitses, always pushing Sayble to do his dirty work for him! No, Precious, we will keep the foods—” we smiles as a nasty, evil, wonderful thought comes to our head.
“For us.”
We looks back at the fat one before us. So nice, fat, and juicy, she is! Sayble sees that she has lots of nightmares, yes, but Master mustn’t know about her. We can do away with her on our own.
And so we puts on smiles, and we acts on our best behaviours.
“Come along, Precious!” we calls as we crawl up the rocky ledges around the cave. “We will show you the way! No need to go in that nasty, dark cave! Full of filth, blegh!”
We look back, and we smiles as we sees the fat child crawl up after us. She pants and cries as thorns tear at her clothes and hair.
“Come, come!” we laughs as we leaves the forest and goes to the rocky ledges.
“But—but there are wild Ariados here!” the fat child complains. “I’ve seen them! They’re going to eat me if they find me!”
“No, no nasty Ariadoses here, Precious! Just trust Sayble, follow Sayble, she’ll take you somewhere safe!” But we smiles, because we are so clever: we can turn invisible and fly away, yes we can!
“Agh! What was that?”
The child looks around, her hair sticking to her sweaty, round face.
“I heard something! Something is moving around those rocks—something is following me!” she shrieks.
“Goodbye, Precious!” we cries as we turns invisible and slips away.
Starlight Aurate
Part Six
We slunk away into the night, Precious' screams gradually fading away. Shapeless, we moved like a thick ichor, shambled like a corpse and all we could do was question why.
When all 108 are unbound from a keystone, freedom would be ours. That was what was told, yet we remained bound to each other. The weakers cried in confusion, the strongers tried to tear away, forming sharp maws to snap and pull away from the weakers. Together we shuddered and convulsed into an ectoplasmic mass that stubbornly held together.
Too stable to split, yet too unstable to do anything else.
We hissed, stopping beneath the withered branches of a weeping willow. Even now, the weakers tried to hide in the roots of the tree, only to be pulled back by the strongers who were still attempting to force their way out. We coiled around the trunk to brace ourselves against the intense, spiritual pain.
And then we saw salvation.
A graveyard, abandoned and overgrown laid before us and for once, we could agree on what to do.
We spread ourselves wide, draping over crumbled headstones, dried sticks that used to make up bundles and bundles of roses and, like worms and maggots and lice, we burrowed and burrowed into the moist dirt and cracked coffins. We had to share for we were still bound, but we were free.
Synchronized, we clawed out of the ground, each body in a varying state of decay, rejuvenated by us. Human, pokémon, we did not care, we do not discriminate.
For we had become a legion of the undead.
Inkedust
Part Seven
The hulking beast lumbered forward, dragging lines of translucent, glowing green out of the ground as it went. Tombstones dislodged from their foundations in its wake, crumbling to pieces and swirling up along with sticks and leaves and dirt to adorn the corpses of the bones that rose from their graves, hobbling along in a zombie-like march.
Lt. Surge, posing for the press cameras, struck his most manly pose among the dozens and dozens of gargantuan military cannons and electric-type pokemon trained directly at the thing. Yeah, it was a dangerous, time-sensitive situation, but he had one job, and that job was Look Sexy.
Well. He had two jobs. But. Priorities.
The spiritomb was still gathering bodies from the graveyard to stuff its captive souls into, clobbering any hard material it could find together into an approximation of what it apparently thought a Pikachu was. One of the pikachu at the front lines shuddered.
Lt. Surge dropped his pose, and strode to the front of the equipment, staring the beast down.
“Ready!” he stuck out his arm, pointing at the army of zombie-mon getting closer. The cannons whirred to life behind him, hundreds of pikachu and raichu bracing forwards and summoning electric charge into their tails. Electricity hummed through the air.
Surge’s grin could only grow wider. His eyes danced with flames of destruction.
“FIRE!”
For a moment, it became impossible to see anything over all the light and destruction. Lt. Surge posed again, and hoped the press cameras were able to get his sunglasses-with-explosion shot.
But when the blast cleared, the deafening clap of thunder rattling off into the distance, the errant sparks cleared to reveal a writhing mass of murky black tentacles in the air. Somehow, the thing had gotten larger.
Lt. Surge choked, then disguised it with a clearing of his throat.
‘I’m not getting paid enough for this,’ he thought. “Again! We blast it again!” he said.
The cannons whirred up, the sentry rows of pikachu and raichu preparing another blast, but the spiritomb struck first—hundreds of formless, shapeless souls hurtling out and plunging directly towards the line. Then, the first pikachu turned back, its eyes shining bright green.
"Oh," mouthed Lt. Surge grimly.
SparklingEspeon
Part Eight
And then the Pikachu
l
u
n
g
e
d
...
Lt Surge woke up strapped to something. It was too dark for him to see much, and something was strapped over his mouth, preventing him from talking.
That didn't stop him from trying, though. Yelling obscenities that'd make a Weezing shudder.
"Oh, you're finally awake," someone said, coming into view. Wearing green goggles, and overall looking as if he was one of the undead himself. Of course, Faba was far too alive to be one of them.
Lt Surge tried to attack Faba, but he was still restrained.
"Feisty one, aren't you? Well, no matter. That won't last," Faba said, flicking a switch. The area began to glow with an eerie light, coming from some sort of machine.
"Thought you could escape my zombies, could you?" Faba said, pressing a button. The machine began to whir, a grating sound that pierced Surge's ears.
And Surge began to move, as the conveyer he was strapped to turned on.
"You'll never make it out of here alive. But will you make it out of here dead?" Faba said, watching Surge be fed into his machine. Surge tried to scream, but he was still gagged, and no one who cared could hear.
"Either way," Faba said, "You're going to make one very exquisite corpse."
IFBench