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I think the only real downfall of this fic (from Prologues to Chapter 1, since that's as far as I've read at this time) is the role pokemon play in this world. Several times they're portrayed as wild animals, the murkrow in the opening, and then Red's graveyard escapade. It seems as if there aren't really any trainers, and people and pokemon coexist just like we do with animals in the real world. But then it's shown that Red is cohabitating with pokemon, specifically a nidoking and an omanyte. Which, okay, perhaps they're pets? But Fonz is on his way to school, which means pokemon aren't just wild animals or pets, they have human-like agency. But, then we don't see them anywhere else during Red's daily chores. If there were some in the grocery store with him, doing shopping or traveling with other humans as companions or equals, it'd establish that dual role a bit better. As it stands, I'm left unsure as to where pokemon stand in society in this fic, and while it doesn't impact the main plot with Red and his knifey-murdery tendencies, it does make it hard to visualize the everyday setting Red's shenanigans take place in.
Oh, yeah, this is definitely one of the many ball-and-chains this fic has on its leg. The version of the Pokémon universe used here is better described in the fic that comes before this chronologically, Seiren, but I've really tried to avoid having that be required reading since its story is largely unrelated to the one here. Anyway, to actually explain it:
The role of pokémon in this universe is pretty complicated. They are creatures which can go one of two ways - either they grow up wild and keep to an intelligence level similar to those of their animal counterparts, or they grow up intelligent and mentally become like human beings. Which path is taken depends on the upbringing they experience when young - wild mon rear wild mon, and intelligent mon rear intelligent mon (unless they're massively negligent).
Pokémon training and battling does exist, but it can range from being an animal trainer to something more like a sports coach depending on the fighting team. Intelligent Pokémon, upon proving their sapience in a standardized government test, are allowed citizenship that gives them rights practically equal to humans. In the history of the world, though, this is a rather new development as pokémon have been considered to be beneath humans due to being perceived as having "animal" as their "default".
There is strong opposition to trainership nowadays, though, by humans and mon alike that view the practice as having dangerous power dynamics - although nothing prevents an intelligent pokémon from becoming a trainer themselves. Many don't like that pokéballs are programmed not to be able to catch humans but not pokémon, either, or that they're even called pokéballs to begin with. Wild Pokémon are protected (though can be caught and trained as long as it's done with respect to the wild mon's legal rights), hunting is disallowed and the only meat most humans consider ethical to consume is the meat of non-pokémon creatures such as fish or other seafood (though this doesn't stop Red from occasional hunting). Mammalian, avian or reptilian non-pokémon do not exist as their corresponding pokémon have filled practically all their ecological niches.
The reason for all this CRAP you see here is that once upon a time I thought the pokémon characters of Twitch Plays Pokémon were Really Neat and I wanted to keep them, but then I had to address how training and wild mon could exist at the same time as walking talking human-intelligent mon. The answer is "poorly". I think the closest take to this I've come across in the fic world is in the works of @NebulaDreams, although mon have it a lot worse over there.
I am left with a few other questions like, if he's performing cannibalistic murder ceremonies in which he enters a possessed-like state and paints the basement in blood and viscera, how has no one he lives with noticed yet? Unless he's got a separate place where the gruesome acts take place. Either that or he's got the best soundproof construction in all of Kanto. And the human and pokemon he lives with, what sort of relationship does he have with them other than "that one roommate who lives in the basement and is quiet, but nice". I imagine these are just "chapter 1 questions" and will be answered with time.
Interestingly enough, this is also something that Seiren happens to explain - and now I definitely need to recheck the prologue to see if I've even remembered to address these in any way. You see, there is a Helixian spell called a "silencer circuit" that Red uses to make his room soundproof - no sound from outside comes in and none comes out from the inside. The room he does these things in is also one that has a lock that he's stolen the key for, and the household generally considers it inaccessible. His mother used to be the one that held the key, but she never used it as the room reminds her of some painful memories regarding Red's father, as it used to be his woodworking space.
I'm really glad you're enjoying the fic! How you described it is really nice and I know I'll be thinking about those words a lot. Thank you!
Hi Canis!! I've been caught up for a while but finally had the time to get my review in! Boy what a fucking doozy.
I have a ton of questions that I know/hope will be answered at some point, but I am still wildly asking them. What's gonna happen now that Red put on the mask? What was that mirage he saw of Kohath? Was it even a mirage?! What the fuck happened in the Twitch? (if there's answers to that in Seiren or Metanoia let me know, I might just be dumb).
I am a little bummed Michi seemed to have met an untimely demise all because Red couldn't keep his fucking hands to himself. This jarred me to hell because I was expecting her to have a bigger role in this tale. Then again, I wasn't expecting Joanna's death to happen so soon either, but something about that one doesn't feel...finite? Like, I totally have a vibe she's on her way back to whoop this mans ass. So I'm somewhat having the same hope for Michi, but not holding my breath...
I'm quite invested in what's happening here, and am glad to be caught up. Good work so far! My line-by-lines are to follow :)
I noticed this in the couple chapters I read of Seiren, but I really like how Red doesn't know about all these Pokemon that exist. He comes across all these mons and he's just like...wait what is that? It's such a small thing, but most fics I've read just seem to have MC's that know every Pokemon (lol guilty but we're not talking about that) so I really enjoy this take.
Or the internet… but that’s something I decided to never bother with again after the disastrous consequences of last time. I grit my teeth. Why couldn’t that trauma have just eroded away with time? It’s been six years...
I know absolutely nothing about TPP and I'm under the assumption this horrible thing that happened to Red that makes him scared to use technology has something to do with it, and I'm so interested in knowing what happened. It's eating me alive.
Think about what you're doing. If you take out your knife, she'll see what you're capable of, physically and mentally. Faced with that danger, she might decide to gather some of her friends for security or even take the new ghost somewhere else. And then it'll be a lot harder, if not impossible, for you to get rid of the ghost.
You need to yield. You need to falter. You need to give her the illusion that you're just another mareep. Hide your fangs.
This is a constant, but I gotta call it out again. I really like how he just has to keep stopping himself from flying off the handle and committing a murder. It perfectly establishes him as this unhinged person.
While it would be best to exterminate the ghost as soon as possible, it wouldn't help me much if my brother was convinced I was too dangerous to reason with. He'd begin to try his best to get me locked up, and I'm sure he'd eventually find the hidden room - and then I'd be exposed anyway.
"Okay, let's go," he says, then turns to the slaking. "Thanks a lot for your help. Do you think you could still stay here until twenty past and make sure he doesn't try slipping away?"
I was so shook that they're just openly talking about trying to block Red from possibly slipping away in front of Red. Not even minutely discreet about it, either.
On the table. Black smudge with legs. That's a spider. Where did it come from? Are there others nearby? No, don't move!
My body squeezes itself against the far armrest. Stop walking this way, you bastard! I don't want anything to do with you, you disgusting, unpredictable stain of a creature. You don't even look alive. You're a machine, created only to crawl into places you shouldn't be in and repulse anyone who spots your ugly silhouette.
How does it do it? How does a tiny, harmless critter set off a blaring alarm in my brain, when its cousin ariados are perfectly fine for me to look at?
That's it. I'm sick of this. I’m sounding like common prey here. I'm a predator, apex no less, and this spider will know it. No matter how repugnant you are, you're fifty steps below me in the food chain. Die.
My hand is raised, ready to squish, but it only trembles in place. I really, really don't want to feel its shell or innards on my skin. Should I use my shoe instead? It'd be far easier on my heart…
No, this is ridiculous. Red, aren't you the Bringer? Isn't it your fate to merge with the god of chaos and usher forth a new age?
You've killed eight human beings in a slow and painful way. You've drunk their blood and eaten their flesh. And now suddenly killing a spider by hand is off limits because the touch of one is a bit icky?
It's almost like you weren't suitable to be the Bringer after all…
Slam.
Th-there. It's done. It's dead. It's dead, right? I don't think it's moving. I just feel its broken body, its gross body. It's done, so now I can get it off. Quickly, in case it isn't dead after all.
Everything about this characterization is iconic. This man cuts tongues out and talks to them when he's bored, but can't bear the idea of smashing a spider to bits. This is everything. And that ending "Th-there" fucking sent me. A% right here.
But more surprising is her outfit. Red cat-eye glasses, jet black bowl cut, mascara, clothes black and white with the exception of a striking red scarf. Half secretary, half rebellious teen who'd tell me giratinism is the way to go. And I'd tell them to fuck off because I already have a cult.
Alright, so this is just me nitpicking characterization, and I might be completely off base, but......I feel like Red would analyze this situation a little more before blatantly lying? I see a world where he's like "Abe might have already spoken to her, could he have mentioned I dropped out?" Like idk, I just feel like he'd retreat into himself for a beat to consider whether or not rolling with the question would be a good idea. But that is just me, I could be very wrong!
I ONLY LAUGHED BECAUSE I CRACK SHIP THEM......BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE HE'D FUCK THE OMANYTE. What did they call him when he was in school, according to Seiren??? "Octopus Fucker"??? I can't.
Memories flood my mind. The timid eyes of a newly-hatched omanyte, the touch of its cautiously reaching arm, these sensations muffling the voices screaming inside my skull. Then an older omanyte playfully swimming in loops and circles. The sound of its ‘good morning’ as I come downstairs. The pattern of its shell, the captivating spiral. The slit pupils of perceptive, yellow eyes and the coiling of tentacles upon tentacles. The deep blue blood on Mt Silver’s snow. The pain in His voice. The pain in my chest. I feel the same pain now. My heart wrapped in coarse rope, the loops chafing the organ and getting tighter. It hurts, but it shouldn’t hurt, there shouldn't be any kind of reaction. You can’t care… no - you don’t care. You got that? You keep H- it safe and healthy for HIS benefit, but you don’t talk to it, touch it or even look at it any more than you have to, alright?
Where are the wooden shelves? Where is the café? And what is that smell? It's like a rabid rattata had busted into the kitchen and knocked over everything on the spice rack! This isn't mellow and relaxing, this is an assault on the senses!
Some jumping between pages lets me know the gist. With ghosts, the most obvious answer is always an exorcism. There are two kinds: fatal and non-fatal, and the names refer to what happens to the ghost as a result. Fatal destroys the ghost, ‘banishing’ it from reality, while non-fatal exorcisms are used to simply force a ghost out of a person, object or location without necessarily harming the spirit. They’re also apparently harder to pull off.
I walk up to the librarian and return the pen with a smile and a thank you - just to see if I was still capable of performing such actions, I suppose. I exit the library and --
Oh fuck, she found me, I can’t make a controlled entrance anymore! Quick, remember your plan --
No, no, wait, that wasn’t Michi’s voice. And turning around confirms she’s not there. Instead…
"Fuck you!" chirps the pidgey perched in a nearby rowan. Its beady black eyes radiate innocence, starkly contrasting its words. Why would…
Oh, I think I get why. Some young kid, maybe with a friend or two, had learned that some birds like to mimic speech, and taught this one to say this hilarious catchphrase. They must have encouraged it with treats, and now it wants me to reward its performance.
It wouldn’t be right to break those feathers, bend them funny, ruin that perfect array of quills. Possibly even snap one of its hollow, delicate bones whose light frame allow it its flight.
There’s no satisfaction in destroying something like this. It doesn’t break beautifully. It’s only elegant if intact.
Huh. Some humanity? I was totally expecting him to kill it, especially thinking back to how he killed the Meowth in Seiren? Like, he wouldn't hesitate. Does he just like birds better???
"Neighbor," I say, kneeling on the ground and placing the backpack in front of me. "Her apartment in Viridian was next to mine. I know it doesn't sound like a lot, but --"
"Sure doesn't."
I refrain from a glare at the brat and continue. "I know, but we did talk. Friendly chatter, though I… I would've liked it to be more. She was really nice, you know, and pretty…"
I bring the mask to my face and press it on. The chill burns - I grit my teeth to help bear it. At least it fits well, surprisingly enough. Really well...
Wait. It's sticking to my face. Is it that cold, cold enough to freeze onto my skin? I better get this off and warm it first so it doesn't sting so damn bad...
...hey. Hey, get off. Get off! It -- It's not coming off! It won't -- oh Gods, I can't breathe, I --
I stumble upright. It's so blurry. Everything's blurry, but there’s brown and gray but no black or red or -- something's appearing. That's her. That’s her! Strike!
I squeeze the handle of my knife. I can hear its blade gleam. The wrist bends with grace as the arm raises the weapon. The metal is an extension of me. The sneasel’s claw, the scyther’s scythe.
Joanna’s so clear now, now in this split second before her demise. Her black is the deepest black, her red the most vivid of reds… like blood. More. More of it, now. She will bleed.
Slash.
Yes, she’s full of it - the warm, sticky, salty, wonderful red fluid. And flesh. She has flesh. She’s corporeal. She feels pain. She’s dying.
Hmmm, this was wild. Michi mentioned weapons would just go right through ghosts, but it seems here Red successfully just slashed her to death. Perhaps I missed something? But I do feel insanely bad for her, she didn't ask for this.
No wind, nothing. Only my own breath and the pounding in my chest. Frantic, but second by second slowing down to a calmer, if still fast, rhythm.
But… I killed her. Shouldn't I be back? Looking around, everything is still muted, hazy… dreamlike. If killing her is not the way back, then what…
...is my face… drying?
It feels… crusty, ugh. And cool. Cold. Something is forming onto it. Solidifying. Is it...
Oh Gods. I gotta open my mouth before --
“Mmphh!”
It's too late! My mouth, my nostrils - they're sealed shut!
Nails! Fuck, no, nails don't do anything! Only screeches, screeches from the scraping. And the air, the air in my lungs, losing its oxygen, turning sour, toxic...
What is this? Joanna's last attempt at vengeance? Some sort of automatic curse? It's already the second time this mask has tried to suffocate me, but at least last time --
Crack!
I gasp. Air. It's back. My face feels warm, normal. The world’s still a blur, but the colors… richer colors… blink. Blink blink blink. Getting clearer. The cabin. Normal colors. Am I back? I can hear something… the wind! I'm back. Gods, thank the Gods.
Something gleams on the floor. Shards. Golden. Of the mask? Must be. It broke on my face. That was that impact I felt. What caused that? What caused this whole thing? Was this… was this just transition to reality? I… I guess. I mean, the shift to the spiritual plane or whatever it was also had me nearly suffocating, only fitting that..
I catch my reflection in the mirror and study it further. I’m tall. My shoulders, wide, while my waist is narrow… a silhouette so masculine, yet so graceful. And look at that pretty face, pretty hair! By the Gods, I’m beautiful! No wonder HE chose me! I’m perfect!
But just take a look at what you have here. A scared little girl tied up and you feeling like a god. Your bloodthirst still unquenched. You need to get that out of your system. Killing a ghost didn't do it. But how about… a chase?
“Hey, Michi…” I start. My voice is deep. Intimidating. Masculine. I really hit the jackpot with this set of genes! “You know how I said I wouldn't hurt you?”
Teeth clamp around her neck with the force of a tyranitar. The predator flips her over, then seizes her throat again. She gags. Her limbs flail. In vain. The grip gets tighter. Her blue eyes lose focus. Consciousness is leaving her. The last thing she will feel is pain as the houndoom drains her life to fuel his own.
But houndoom don’t have hands, do they?
They don’t. Then why are there hands? Wasn’t it supposed to be teeth around her neck, not hands? Wasn’t she supposed to be a fuzzy little pichu?
I take my knife and - this is it. I place its tip between the flexor tendons and press.
As the blade sinks in, red nectar surfaces. The smell surges. Yes, more. I drag the tip downward, cleaving the skin further. More blood. It’s so vibrant. It almost glows. It begins to drip --
No, I can’t let it drop off. It’d be incriminating - and I don’t want a droplet of it to go to waste…
I lean in, brushing the skin with my lips, gathering the blood. As soon as it spreads to my taste buds, my inhibitions vanish. I cover the wound with my mouth entirely.
The taste of blood... the salty taste of life, of pain, of death… there was a time it sickened me, as it usually does for humans, but HE changed that. There’s no nausea, no gag reflexes when it comes to this substance. What replaced it was an overwhelming urge to touch it, feel it, consume it.
I close my eyes and jut my tongue deeper into the incision, feeling the forms of the tendons. The warmth of this flesh... it ignites a flame in my heart. It drills my nails deeper into her skin. It gets me draining, sucking out the sacred fluid, quenching the houndoom’s thirst.
His hand slides down my cheek onto my neck and travels along my arm. Having reached my hand, he takes it into his own, fingers interlocked. His other hand he slips into my hair at the back of my head. His warmth draws me onto him like a magnet - and while I flinch at my loss of control, he makes no motions to reject me. I can hear the beating of his heart, and it’s perfectly calm. The exact opposite of the drumroll in my own chest.
So...is she dead or alive? She still had a heartbeat, but Red mentioned "oh yeah I totally killed her for Kohath." Did he completely suck her dry of blood????? I didn't realize he drank so much, what a fucking madlad.
Oh, it’s coming from the bottom. From that rock, the little cave within it. Soon I’ll feel that creature’s soft flesh between my jaws, its useless struggles for survival. I slither closer and closer, all the way to the entrance. I’m ready to strike. I plunge my head in, teeth bared. What will I be eating?
Eyes wide as plates stare back. Eyes I know, framed by blue arms and a spiral shell.
I look down, and the left pocket of my pants - it’s stained red. Blood red.
The crowd stares at me with wide eyes, expecting an explanation, but I’m just as lost as them. I haven’t hurt myself. I haven’t put anything in there. I can only reach my fingers in and pull out…
A lock of hair. Covered in sticky, slimy blood, but its original color can still somewhat be seen.
“Th-this isn’t legal!” I shout as a last, desperate attempt to sway their minds. Trouble from the cops - it’s what keeps me from killing blindly. But not for these people, it seems. They’re animals. Animals trampling me.
I glance at the mirror above the sink to see my body, but my body, it’s -- red too. Bloody. Full of holes. So many small, deep, black holes. Puncture wounds. No skin is left.
Actually… maybe a few people have decided to go out and try out the sea's temperature. There might be a considerable crowd over there, which means plenty of opportunities to strike up conversations.
That's where I'll head, then! It's been quite a while since I went to the beach, anyway. Maybe I'll spot some wildlife while I'm there, too. Something I'm actually interested in.
So part of me was like "Why would he go down to the beach so nicely dressed, that's going to draw attention to him" but then I remembered it's still, like, chilly out in this setting. So I suppose it's not CRAZY weird, but y'know.
Oh my Gods. Oh my Gods. He really just pulled the ‘bigger man’ shit. I hate him. I hate him so much. Kill. Kill him. Knife. The hilt is cool to the touch.
I noticed this in the couple chapters I read of Seiren, but I really like how Red doesn't know about all these Pokemon that exist. He comes across all these mons and he's just like...wait what is that? It's such a small thing, but most fics I've read just seem to have MC's that know every Pokemon (lol guilty but we're not talking about that) so I really enjoy this take.
it's also a fantastic excuse to describe one's own take on a mon's appearance. red does know a bunch of pokemon due to watching nature documentaries, but he's no expert on ghosts so a rare, mainly unovan species would not be something he'd know.
I know absolutely nothing about TPP and I'm under the assumption this horrible thing that happened to Red that makes him scared to use technology has something to do with it, and I'm so interested in knowing what happened. It's eating me alive.
well, since it's never really thoroughly explained, i'll give you the cliffnotes:
you might know that twitch plays pokémon 1. was a game of pokemon red played collectively on twitch by a chat of up to 100,000 people at a time 2. had lots of interpretational lore. one thing nearly unanimously agreed on was that a pokemon being released in PC meant its in-universe death. this was because releasing powerful mon was very detrimental to progress, and so it was basically as dramatic as death. this led to PC visits being extremely chaotic and tense due to their potential for destruction. and as the chat commands inputted to the game were thought of as voices in the protagonist's (red's) head, this would mean that PC visits made the voices a hell of a lot worse. all the yelling and screaming by the body-puppeting demons along with the threat of helix being killed led to red becoming quite traumatized about computers, and now he can barely watch when one is being used without painful memories resurfacing.
Alright, so this is just me nitpicking characterization, and I might be completely off base, but......I feel like Red would analyze this situation a little more before blatantly lying? I see a world where he's like "Abe might have already spoken to her, could he have mentioned I dropped out?" Like idk, I just feel like he'd retreat into himself for a beat to consider whether or not rolling with the question would be a good idea. But that is just me, I could be very wrong!
this is a moment of stupidity on red's part and i'm not totally sure if i wrote it believably, but the idea was that his pride got the better of him and made him slip up.
I ONLY LAUGHED BECAUSE I CRACK SHIP THEM......BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE HE'D FUCK THE OMANYTE. What did they call him when he was in school, according to Seiren??? "Octopus Fucker"??? I can't.
red's relationship with helix started out as romantic, but i changed it to familial/friendly when i realized falling in love with someone youve raised as your surrogate son not just once but thrice by now is kinda sus
Huh. Some humanity? I was totally expecting him to kill it, especially thinking back to how he killed the Meowth in Seiren? Like, he wouldn't hesitate. Does he just like birds better???
sort of, yeah. how he explains it is kind of how i'd explain it - birds have such beautiful plumage and wings that breaking them would be too much of a shame.
Hmmm, this was wild. Michi mentioned weapons would just go right through ghosts, but it seems here Red successfully just slashed her to death. Perhaps I missed something? But I do feel insanely bad for her, she didn't ask for this.
Oh, there appears to be another way of handling things. It involves taking the creature’s mask and wearing it, which will cause one to be possessed. This will make the ghost tangible within the host’s reality, allowing the human to land a deadly strike to destroy the yamask once and for all.
So...is she dead or alive? She still had a heartbeat, but Red mentioned "oh yeah I totally killed her for Kohath." Did he completely suck her dry of blood????? I didn't realize he drank so much, what a fucking madlad.
it's kind of quick, but red closed her nostrils with a piece of duct tape to cover her airways and suffocate her:
I take out my knife and - after fending off the urge to gut her right there and then - cut a piece of duct tape from the bind around her ankles. I glue it onto her nostrils as best as I can, lift her up the same way as before and try my best not to topple over.
So part of me was like "Why would he go down to the beach so nicely dressed, that's going to draw attention to him" but then I remembered it's still, like, chilly out in this setting. So I suppose it's not CRAZY weird, but y'know.
In other places, I found Red's sentence fragments effective for conveying his emotions, but here I felt like it disrupted the flow. After all, he's calm and enjoying the woods! 😌🌲 🙃
Suggestion: Trees sway to my left and my right. OR To my left and my right, the trees sway.
Oh my fucking god, of course that's how he sees it. He's such a drama queen. He's got such a weird relationship with being seen. He seems to want recognition and praise, but knows he has to scuttle around and be secretive.
Two things here: 1) a small thing, but I think the period would work better as a colon here. 2) Emphasizing "strands" makes me think he's found strands of her hair caught on a branch or something (like a proper hunter I suppose) and I wanted to see that explained. If that's not what you meant, then "strands" feels weird. Like, from a distance, he won't see individual strands of hair. Pink hair, maybe, or even a head of pink hair.
This rang a little hollow for me. It's tricky because you don't want to just tell us his plan--we see it play out anyway--but without knowing what it is, I don't really know how he believes his options have been limited in this moment. Maybe instead of "remember your plan," you can hint at what his backup plan would've been?
Hahaha. This is the real protector of the forest right here. Moments like these are not only funny because they surprise us, showinganother angle of Red (his loneliness, his fear, his insecurity), but they also do something for me to mitigate how OP he might seem otherwise. He might be overpowering little girls left and right, but he's still getting pwned by a bird.
Oh, now he's an artiste. I can't remember if I've already talked to you about The Magnus Archives or not, but this reminds me of one episode in particular with (blurred both for spoilers, if you care, and gore ... uh just in case, I guess?) this awful fuck who's created a "garden" of living misery, flaying bodies into fantastical flesh flowers, each one a metaphor for a different kind of self-image problem.
"If needed." Humans need to be taught to fear, but birds don't. It feels less and less to me like he genuinely cares about being a predator than it is that he just doesn't like humans.
Both her arms immobilized, all she can do is scream and flail her legs, but the rag keeps her muffled and her knee strikes - while determined - only manage to lightly bruise whatever they hit.
Suggestion: With both her arms immobilized, all she can do is scream and flail her legs. The rag keeps her muffled, and her knee strikes - although determined - only manage to bruise.
Changing it from "whines" to "whining" would make this easier to parse, IMHO. Also, I'm almost positive it should be "now-nasal." (I also don't love that construction either way--it's pretty far outside the way folks typically talk, which makes it hard to parse.)
I'd ditch "leaves her throat." I don't think it adds much here, and the brevity is slightly ... well, funnier feels like the wrong word here. It heightens the sense of Red's amusement.
There’s no noise outside the occasional gusts and the constant hum of faraway traffic, which one can easily imagine as further wind if technology pisses them off, and it sure does in my case.
Joanna’s really taking her time. She’s not gonna leave the girl for dead, is she? That’s not the woman I stalked. But could she be overwhelmed by her fear? Her sense of self-preservation?
Huh, he doesn't consider for even a second that death might have changed her personality or that, having died, she doesn't see death as a problem anymore. Those seem like thoughts that might occur to him.
Suggestion: "An oil lamp, huh?" I turn to Michi, whose only response is a nervous glance. "You really are resourceful."
(Implies she must've lit it already.)
Such words leave a good taste in my mouth. It’s a shame I can never speak like this outside meetings with HIM - or talking by myself, but that just feels sad.
That oddly went much smoother than I expected for him.
I wish Joanna would've put up more of a fight here. (Unless this isn't all completely real and he's just seeing what he wants/expects? If so, it would be nice to get some hints casting doubt on his perceptions a little.) Like, she's not just a scared woman--she's a pokemon! It would be nice to see her try ... something! Especially because she has to know that after Red's little soliloquy, he's going to have to kill Michi anyway.
I was surprised how easily that seemed to go for him, especially considering he really doesn't know what he's doing. Like, okay, he read a book. Surely the book couldn't have fully prepared him for everything? I think seeing Joanna fight back would help with that, too.
Red continues to know himself really well and to clearly be in a very good place emotionally. He is clearly very satisfied with just his cult and is not lonely in any way, shape, or form.
Oh my fucking god, of course that's how he sees it. He's such a drama queen. He's got such a weird relationship with being seen. He seems to want recognition and praise, but knows he has to scuttle around and be secretive.
I wasn't actually thinking of moves at all, but rather some real life birds' tendency for mimicry strengthened by this universe's mon being quick to learn human language in the right circumstances.
I wish Joanna would've put up more of a fight here. (Unless this isn't all completely real and he's just seeing what he wants/expects? If so, it would be nice to get some hints casting doubt on his perceptions a little.) Like, she's not just a scared woman--she's a pokemon! It would be nice to see her try ... something!
Actually, no - and I hope I didn't forget to add that fact somewhere in the chapter. He has a memory-erasing seal that he plans to use. (It makes its first appearance in Seiren, actually.)
Thanks for the review! I think I had some suggested line edits already queued up for chapter 4, so I can take care of those and these ones in the same go.
Right, but this seemed like it was in the context of her being able/unable to hurt him or to light the lamp or something. I forget what, but I hadn't understood it to be about her vulnerability but about her ability to interact with solid objects. I argue that her mask is a solid object.
wow, this took pretty accurately one month. if i keep this up i might even have some kind of a schedule.
anyway! it's time for the chapter i've been memeing so much about, chapter 7. i wonder what gives it its reputation? you'll have to read to find out.
rated mature for gore, body horror, violence against a minor, strong language and sexual references. and i really have to stress the gore and body horror parts. you'll see. enjoy!
---
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Houndoom
---
Finally, I’m home. Thank the Gods. The front door of my house has not looked this beautiful in years.
I wish I could feel like I made more progress on this excursion, though. While I didn’t feel the urge to stab anyone like I did with that insufferable Arcean, I did have to tap out of conversations pretty quickly after starting them on account of them being boring as fuck and the boneheaded mareep just pissing me off with their… general mareepness. Oh, I have a wife and two kids, they’re the light of my life, the littler one is really big into prehistoric pokémon right now - yeah, well, I bet he thinks tyrantrum shouldn’t have feathers, as if he gets to make that decision, stupid fuck. I hate kids.
Right, well, anyway - I’m home now, and I don’t have to think about that shit anymore. All I have to think about now is getting some food. I’m starving.
I unlock the front door and open it. Fonz shouts his greeting from inside. Fuck. If he’s here, that means the omanyte is here too. I really don’t have the energy for this…
Either way, I slip inside and kick off my shoes, giving no shits about whether they’re fancy or not. In the comfort of my own home, I can treat them any way I want. It’s not like my dad’s coming back to scold me.
I shuffle my way to the kitchen to scramble together something to eat. Fonz sits at the table with his own dinner - some salmon and mashed potatoes, nice. I could have some of that myself. Last night’s dream definitely put me in the mood for some seafood. But last night’s dream was also the one where --
Dammit, this is what I was talking about. I’ve already had enough trouble containing my urges today. I don’t need any more of that, regardless of what kind of urges I’m fighting.
But the omanyte issue becomes impossible to ignore when I hear the mon chatting with a voice I don’t recognize.
It’s not Fonz, I’m looking right at him. It’s not Abe, he doesn’t sound like that. It’s not Abe’s father and it’s not my mother. So it must mean…
I clear my throat. “Did m- Helix bring someone home from school?” The name burns my throat to speak aloud, but I just can’t say ‘my lord’ anymore.
“Yeah,” says Fonz, grinning. “A treecko named Lily. Apparently they’ve really hit it off. Isn’t it great?”
I fix my eyes on the kitchen counter.
Yes, it’s great. It’s wonderful. He -- the omanyte finally has a friend. It finally found company. I can imagine how happy that makes it.
And the fact that it brought them home… means that it’s no longer ashamed of me.
Because I’m not there to call it ‘my lord’ anymore. I’m not there to be weird anymore. The omanyte can now bring people home because I’m no longer in its way.
He’s replacing you.
No, no, shut up. We already went over this with the Shirlee fiasco. He’s not -- it’s not replacing me. It has only found other people, other interests. And that’s good, you know? That’s good, because that means it doesn’t need me around so much. And I’m not supposed to be close to it anyway. This is good for both parties.
He no longer needs you.
That’s not -- no, that can go ahead and be true. Because it doesn’t matter to me. It doesn’t matter what some little mon thinks. I’m going to be a god. That’s the only thing that matters. That’s the only thing I care about.
He no longer wants you.
“Red?”
I don’t answer.
“Are you okay?”
I have to answer.
I grab my heart and slam it through the window.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just got lost in thought.”
“Alright...”
Great, now look at what you’ve done. You’re being suspicious. You’re acting strangely. You’re raising questions. You have to fix the situation.
...I can’t. I have to take the next best option.
“Do we need anything from the store?”
“The store? Weren’t you there just yesterday?”
Yeah, weren’t you? “Yeah, but I wanna get something I forgot.”
He shifts back on that little stool of his that lets him sit by the table like a human being. “Well, I can’t think of anything we’re missing.”
“That’s alright.” I walk back to the door and shove my feet back into my shoes. “See you soon.”
“Oh, s-see you,” he shouts backs as I slip outside.
Once I’ve closed the door, I let myself collapse against it.
Well, I suppose it’s alright. I didn’t do anything explicitly harmful and removed myself from the situation before I could. That’s about the best I can ask of myself given today’s events.
Still, I…
No. Just let it go.
With a sigh, I prop myself back up. I step down from the porch and begin my journey to the store. Well, I suppose I don’t actually have to go to the store - I can just say they didn’t have what I wanted - but as I couldn’t get myself a bite to eat back home, I could buy myself a little something on this trip. I remember them having a section with freshly baked pastries the few times I’ve wandered off my usual route. One of those sounds really good right about now…
The thought, unfortunately, only makes my hunger growl louder. I choose to defer it for the time being and try to focus on my surroundings instead.
For a while, it helps. The pretty weather and nice breeze do well to lift my spirits… until I come across the library.
Gods. Just a year ago or so, I could have gotten a snack from the café already and had a wonderful time, but noooo, they had to go and screw it all up as that’s the thing humans do best. Well, guess what?
I gargle up some saliva and spit it down on the asphalt. There. Let that foamy lump be a warning to any other enjoyers of decency. And who says people like me don't do good deeds.
I lift my head up high and continue on my way. After what felt like much too long, I finally arrive at the supermarket - but there's a commotion at the front again. And what do you know, it's the same people as before. You'd think they would’ve given up by now. In a way, I admire their resilience. And in a way, I almost pity them - they too have found themselves imprisoned by their own emotions. But I suppose, more than either of those, I feel… pride. Pride at the fruits of my labor.
But I do hope I can slip by either unnoticed or with a quick 'no'. I'm here for destressing, not distressing. Man. Sometimes I wish I had friends I could say these puns to.
I approach the doors with a brisk pace I intend to keep no matter what. I dive into the crowd and manage to take a few steps until someone lightly grabs my arm. Alright, I was prepared for this. I turn to the culprit and --
“Excuse me, sir, have you...”
The word to speak is simple, but some group of neurons decides to block it with rage. They’ve seen the man that slammed the lid of an iron maiden onto me last night, and they’ve forgotten that it was simply a dream. It doesn’t help that the man has left his own sentence unfinished. It locks my eyes onto his face in anticipation. His dopey, dopey face. But it’s not just his expression that I can’t seem to escape - something is off.
His veins. His veins and arteries. I can see them. They sprawl along his face like the roots of some fungus, diving into his sockets and orifices. Was he always this pale? Is this some reaction his body is having to the copious amounts of crying he’s done judging by his reddened eyes? No, somehow it doesn’t look unhealthy. I’m not repulsed as I would be at signs of sickness - instead, I’m drawn in. Those red and blue lines are so vivid in their color, they’re like… they’re like candy. Sweet, juicy… plump. Full of blood. So full that it feels like the blood would just squirt right out if pricked with a needle. It would spray right onto me, my skin, my mouth...
He’s talking to me now. I think he’s talking about recognizing me from before but still wanting to ask if I’ve seen her sister. He holds up the photo, but I can barely give it a glance before I have to return to that spectacle on his face. With enough focus, I can see the minute changes in the pressure of those tubes. The squash and stretch as his muscles move. The pulses of blood that originate from his heart. His heart…
My gaze slides down to his chest. Deep in there resides that beautiful, colorful organ. Day and night it ceaselessly works to keep that blood flowing. So diligent. Yet this man gives it no thanks. He takes it for granted, even makes it work overtime with unnecessary stress.
“Sir, are you okay?”
I look back at his face. Wrinkles above the eyebrows. Slightly ajar mouth. Confused. At my behavior.
“...Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” I respond with lazy lips, and he goes back to his speech.
But am I okay? Am I okay with this? No, I can’t be okay with this. He doesn’t deserve that heart. And if I’m twice the man he’ll ever be, why shouldn’t I take it for myself? If I had two hearts, neither would have to work as hard anymore. They could work in shifts, one doing what a heart’s meant to do while the other takes a well-deserved break. I’ll give that heart a good home. I’ll let it live in a body that trains regularly and eats a healthy diet. This dude doesn’t, just look at him. He’s taller than me, and yet I have not a cloud of doubt that I could kick his ass. I could kill him with my bare hands. Eat him alive. Tear off chunks of muscle with my teeth, swallow them, digest them, put their bioenergy into much better use. Oh, Gods. How good it would taste, especially with those candy-like veins on top. I’m so hungry. I have to…
“What are you doing?”
He raised his hands. He stepped back. Because I… stepped forward. To lunge at him? Bite him in the neck? In this crowd? In broad daylight?
What the hell am I doing? I was just supposed to say ‘no’ and move on. Not this… this. I… oh, fuck. Just leave.
“Sorry, nothing,” I quickly say. “I’ll, uhh, let you know if I see anything.”
Before he can respond, I slip through the automatic doors. I don’t stop until I’ve passed through the store gates, something that’ll keep me from walking right back.
This was a bad idea. I should have learned by now that I shouldn’t be around anyone if I need to get myself back together. I just need to grab that snack from somewhere, buy it and get out. Eat it in the woods or something. Anywhere I can be alone.
Okay, let’s see. Where did they keep the pastries again…?
I sneak across the store like a lost rodent, peeking into every aisle I pass by and changing course whenever I feel like I’ve found a right turn, but time and time again I’m mistaken. What kind of logic does this place follow? How are clothes related to cheese? Why not have the fresh pastries near the bread? No, there are only packaged ones. I don’t want those - I didn’t come all this way for something conveyor belt flavored.
It doesn’t help either that each time the signs seem a little harder to read. And each time I turn around, my steps get heavier… it must be my blood sugar dropping down. All this stress is just burning me out faster. Thoughts get blurred, repeated, forgotten only seconds later… hey, I was in this aisle already. Which way did I turn last time? Left? Guess I’ll take the right…
Oh my Gods. There it is! Freshly baked pastries. Croissants, donuts, cinnamon buns. They are sweet, they are greasy, they are…
Well, they’re…
They’re fine, I guess. They’re exactly as pastries should be. But…
Now that they’re in front of me, I just don’t… want them.
I don’t want to eat wheat. I don’t want to eat plant matter. But I’m still hungry. I want something. What do I --
A salty, metallic flavor invades my consciousness.
Without even thinking, I lick my lips, catching more blood from the chapped skin. That’s exactly it, that’s what I want. I want flesh. I want the meat of a creature that once had a pulse. Or still has…
No! Don’t go down that route. Just... get some fish! That used to be alive. That’s some flesh you can still legally get. There’s a food counter right beside the pastries, get it from there? No, better not. You should avoid human contact as much as you can right now. Get the refrigerated stuff - you just passed that aisle just a while ago.
I backtrack my steps and see the beautiful red gleam of a salmon fillet. Yes, that, I want that. No, not that, that’s raw, you can’t have it raw, get the cold-smoked one. I open the shelf door and snatch the package, nearly missing thanks to the ever-thickening haze in my head. The soft touch of the flesh underneath my thumb nearly has me sink my teeth into it already, but no, I need to be a person for just a few moments longer. Fingers clutching the package strongly enough to almost tear it, I close the door and turn to where I at least kind of think the checkouts are.
Wait. Past the aisle, on the floor - a red puddle. Is that...
No, it can’t be blood. Why would there be blood on the floor of a supermarket? It has to be ketchup or berry juice or something. Yes, that’s it. Of course it isn’t blood. Nobody’s hurt, nobody’s bleeding, and that’ll become clear as day as soon as I get past these shelves --
Someone’s lying in the puddle. Face down, motionless.
Well… alright, that’s a bit more alarming… but maybe he took a fall. He does look pretty old. He took a fall and he landed on whatever he was carrying, which happened to be filled with some red fluid, and it burst open and made that puddle. That is what happened. Unfortunately, now that I’ve clearly noticed him, I’m obligated to help or else they’ll catch me being criminally negligent on surveillance tapes. What a pain in the ass…
I walk over to him, circling the puddle to avoid getting whatever that stuff is on my shoes. I crouch next to his face and reach for his shoulder --
No.
That smell is unmistakable. It is blood.
Despite my awakening dread, I grab the man's shoulder. No reaction. I fold the salmon to fit it in my pocket, grab the man with both hands and flip him over.
His entrails stay on the floor.
The smell surges like a sudden gust. Not just blood - all the odors of an opened abdominal cavity, its organs, its fluids. I recoil, nearly falling on my ass, but fortunately find my balance in time to stand upright. Still, my eyes stay nailed to the carnage.
What is… behind this? What would cause this? Did a rabid mon barge in and maul this guy? Is it still at large? Am I in danger?
I pause my breathing to listen for any clues - but the store's gone silent. Unbearably silent.
I look around, and what I see is even worse.
Puddles and smears of red coat the once-white floors. Bodies lay strung about here and there, some intact, others ripped apart. I creep to another aisle - same thing. Next one, same thing. Same thing, same thing, same thing. It’s really starting to seem like I’m the only one alive --
Something moved.
Something’s standing at the end of this aisle. Someone. Looks human. Has human hands. Stained by blood.
Was it him? Did he kill all these people? Did he have the same thoughts I had here last time, but lacked the luck that snapped me back to reality? He kinda looks like me. He might think like me, too. Right now, he’s frozen just like I am. Just standing there.
I don’t want to move, afraid I’ll trigger an attack - but I have to get my knife. I have to be able to defend myself.
I grab the hilt --
Blood.
Blood on my hands. They’re all red. Trembling.
And so are his.
That’s a mirror.
No. No, I couldn’t have. I’ve been shopping just like anyone else. When could I have done all this? It’s impossible! Yet the blood, the blood is there, and my knife…
I slide it out. The blade is red.
Oh shit. I need to get out of here.
I dash from aisle to aisle, careful not to slip on any blood or disembodied organs, looking for any sign of the checkouts. Though will I even be able to get through? Surely they’ve seen me on my rampage through the surveillance already. But will they have the power or courage to try and stop me? Maybe a mon would. I wouldn’t be much of an opponent to anything with elemental powers. I guess I just have to hope it’ll be humans alone or that they’ll be too cowardly to stop me. And that they have no guns...
Wait! Maybe there’s a chance the surveillance is broken today or that no one’s looked at it yet. If that’s the case, I may even be able to get away scot-free! I just have to get this blood off my hands. But how can I do that? I can’t wipe it on my clothes, it’ll still show. Unless…
With great care not to stain any visible area, I slip my thumb underneath the waist of my pants. I pull it outwards to allow my other hand to enter the space inside, and that other hand props it up enough to let me slip my first hand in. Alright, fantastic! I rub both hands against the insides of my pants, hoping dearly that there won’t be enough blood to seep through. It seems that there isn’t, but the blood is also taking its sweet time coming off --
“Hey!”
I look up and freeze. A man in a dark green shirt has entered the aisle, and he’s looking straight at me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, approaching. Oh Gods. Why is he even doing that? He has no weapon on him. Doesn’t he know how much I’ve slaughtered? He… can’t be aware, no. If he knew, he wouldn’t dare to approach. But then what the hell is he confronting me about --
“Get those hands outta your pants!”
...Ohhh.
Well, this is quite awkward.
“I said take ‘em out!” he shouts again. It’s looking like he’s going to come take them out himself if I don’t comply.
But… I can’t take them out. He’ll see the blood. He’ll figure things out. Should I just kill him? I’d have to be fast and get no more blood on me, though --
No, I’ve got it! Why didn’t I think of this before?
“Oh, thank the Gods you’re here!” I yell. “There’s a --”
I’ve pulled out my hands to present the blood I would claim to have bled. Only there isn’t any.
The clerk’s frown deepens. “A what?”
I glance behind me. The floors are stainless white.
“You’re gonna have to leave now,” says the clerk.
I inspect my hands over and over, but all traces of the blood have vanished. As the clerk extends his hand to grab me, I lift them up.
“I, uhh, sorry,” I say. “My bad. I won’t be any more trouble. Can you, uhh, still let me buy this?” I gesture to the salmon sticking out of my pocket. At least that didn’t fall out during this whole thing.
The clerk eyes me and the salmon. “If you behave,” he begrudgingly says.
I nod eagerly and follow the clerk to the checkouts, where he watches me as I purchase the salmon. Despite my company, the woman behind the counter still serves with the usual level of professionality, but her smile wavers at the words the clerk mutters after I’m done.
“Be sure to wash your hands.”
A bright red glow on my face, I exit the store. I cross the parking lot without delay and keep going until I’ve reached the graveyard.
I sit on the bench and stare at the salmon in my hands.
I’ve never hallucinated from low blood sugar before, but maybe it’s a thing. Or maybe I fell halfway asleep. I don’t know. I just know that I better eat this now.
Even though I’ve completely lost my appetite.
---
"Hi!" rings Abe's greeting from the kitchen as soon as I open the front door. Unfortunately for him, I have neither the will nor the energy to answer.
I kick off my shoes for what I pray will be the last time today and shuffle towards the stairs. Hearing the omanyte's friend's voice from the living room further cements my plan to head directly for my bedroom and stay there for the remainder of the day. It'd seem very boring if it wasn't for the fact that I'm perfectly ready to already call it a night.
"Oh, hey," Fonz speaks up despite my right foot already touching the third step. "Did you get what you wanted?"
Should probably answer. "Yeah."
He says something, but as I hear no noises suggesting he's going to follow me, the exact words are irrelevant. All that matters now is that I can rest undisturbed.
Sixteen steps and what feels like an hour later, I bust through my room’s door and flop onto my bed face first. It's not as dark as I would've liked with the sun shining through the window, but it matters little as sleep already knocks at the back of my mind. I let it in, and reality blurs away...
---
Where is it?
I glance left and right and back and forth, but all I see are trees. Pines, spruces, all swaying and creaking in the wind that howls with a houndour's voice. They spread out their branches as if waiting for an unsuspecting passerby to snatch away. Their needles wiggle like thousands of spider legs, eager to get their claws on me to do who knows what. Needless to say, I steer clear of them, sticking to the well-tread path of dirt and dead needles.
Up above, in the few spots where the branches don't obscure it, the deep blue velvet of the sky peeks through, along with a few little stars. Their faint, cold light is the only illumination the forest receives. Thanks to this, I can barely see two meters in front of me, which makes my search no easier. I suppose I just have to keep going until I bump into it.
Wait… what is 'it'? What exactly am I looking for?
Clank. Clank. Clank.
What’s that? Sounds like a machine of some kind. A big one.
Clank. Clank. Clank.
It’s coming closer. Shit. I don’t know what it is, but I better go hide just in case. I jump off the path --
Shlorp.
And instantly regret it as the moss gives in under my feet and I find myself knee-deep in sludge. Oh Gods, my shoes are drenched… ugh, wading through this isn’t going to be anywhere near fast enough. I gotta return to the path and find some other option, fast.
The suction is strong, but with great effort, I manage to pull my foot out of the muck and hop closer to the path. That's one step, I'll need a couple more. Come on… yes, shlorp, we get it. Hurry up, the clanking is getting louder! I don't wanna get in the way of a crazed tyranitar or whatever that is!
The ground's already shaking, oh Gods. What am I even gonna do when once I get out of the sludge? I glance around… hold on, over there! A lone pine growing right on the edge of the path. Maybe, just maybe, I can hide behind it.
I pull my foot out of the sludge one more time, focus on the solid ground just a meter away, bend my supporting leg - and leap.
The foot meets the path! I crouch right away, and to my great relief, I get to keep my balance. But there’s no time to celebrate. Light is shining from behind the trees, growing brighter each moment - it’s the machine. The rays burning my back, I run to the pine. Up close, it’s thinner than I’d hoped, but it’ll have to do. I slip behind it and try my best to fit in its shadow. Curse these wide, masculine shoulders…
The clanking enters my stretch of the path. It’s here. But its rhythm isn’t changing -- it must not have spotted me… yet, at least. I hold my breath as it approaches, keeping a close eye on the light’s direction. As the shadow shifts, so do I. I tiptoe around the trunk at the same pace as the machine passes the tree. A cartoonish maneuver - but miraculously, it works.
The machine carries on at the same pace it arrived with. The clanking’s finally fading, and so is the light.
Something strikes the tree hard enough to make me jump back on instinct, forgetting all about my plan to hide. The ground that meets my feet is lumpier than expected and I tumble down backwards.
As the last resort of a cornered animal, my body freezes up, and all I can do is gawk at the terror that stands before me.
Eight spindly, golden legs carry the weight of a coffin-shaped body. On its face, a mask - that mask. Only instead of holes in her sockets, she has two gleaming pitch-black eyes along with two smaller pairs next to them.
And on the creature's back, wearing a headlamp that obscures her face but still leaves visible the dark clothing and the pink --
"Hi," greets Michi. She pushes up the headlamp, revealing a grin most infuriating.
Even through my terror, my hands form fists. "Y-you're supposed to be dead," I manage through my teeth.
"Well, I'm not, and doesn't that piss you off." She smirks, but soon frowns, leaning forwards onto the creature's head.
"Let's get to the point," she says and pats the monster's head. It raises its frontmost pair of limbs, flashing their unnervingly sharp tips, and plunges them into the dirt on my left and right. A dozen or so centimeters closer, they would have skewered my hands - ample reason to draw them to my chest and pay close attention to what the girl has to say.
She locks eyes with me - all innocence gone from those pale blues, replaced with only cold. She delivers her words without a waver.
"You need to confess."
Confess…?
Right. Of course she'd want that. But I…
“Well?” she demands.
This is not an easy thing to say with a car-sized six-eyed spider monster staring at you with murderous intent, but I don’t see much of a choice.
“I can’t,” I breathe.
The monster hisses sharply, and Michi narrows her eyes. “Yes, you can,” she says. “And unless you want to die right here and now, you will.”
Shit. So it’s either gonna be rotting in jail for the rest of my life or getting the kebab treatment.
Or… I do have one trick up my sleeve. It’s worth a shot…
I search my heart for all the misery and despair I can find and channel it through my face.
“I… I’m sorry,” I crow, voice breaking. “I-I’m sorry, but I had to do it! You don’t understand --”
The monster splits its mask into a maw of curved, sharp fangs. An infernal screech claws at my ears.
“Well, I, uhh…I mean…” I raise my hands and force a chuckle. “Listen, can we just pause for a moment and discuss this?”
She frowns, but to my great shock, doesn’t immediately order the monster to kill me. Instead, she leans forward again. “We’re listening.”
I take a moment to catch my breath, but know my time is limited. “Alright, so...” I rub my hands together. “Since, um, I don’t want to die and you probably don’t want murder on your record, I’m thinking we could forgo that ‘killing me’ option...”
“So, you’ll confess?”
I glance away. “Well, about that… I was thinking that now that you’re clearly here and alive, that means no child murder was actually committed, and I… feel like it’d be quite annoying for both parties to deal with all the legal stuff that’s attached to these things, and so we could perhaps… just go our separate ways and forget all about this?”
Silence.
Is it a good silence?
Michi scowls. It’s not good.
“Kill him.”
A metal limb slams into my chest, squeezing out all air and knocking me onto my back. The monster pounces on me, lunging for my left arm with its maw wide and --
Fuck! Oh, Gods! That stings, stings! Screaming pain in my left forearm, it took its fangs and sunk them right in! Right between the bones! It’s like fire! She withdraws -- she withdraws, but the pain isn’t going away, no, it’s so bad, it’s so bad I can’t think of anything but my dissolving flesh. Dissolving, it really is dissolving, the skin is caving in by gravity alone. Blood pours out of the puncture wounds. Blood and other matter. I hear sizzling. The pain spreads to my torso. My lungs are bubbling. I can’t breathe. The venom creeps up my neck. Oh Gods, I’m really gonna die. My brain is going to melt. It’s already doing so. Patches of my vision go black and spread, spread. But my skin, my skin is still intact, it seems, if limp with no structures beneath. Oh Gods, there it comes, I can feel it. My thoughts shattering.
Death.
Wait. It’s gone.
It’s dark, soft, wet…
Oh, great, I get it now. It was just another nightmare. It was just a dream, and now it’s over. I’m awake in my own bed, safe. Though I’m not a fan of the cold sweat. Especially with my day clothes still on. Ugh, looks like I’ll have to change for tomorrow.
“Do you understand now?”
Oh fuck! Who --
Against the back wall, standing in the dark, it’s her.
“You will confess, or it’ll get even worse,” Michi says. What is she doing in my room? How did she get in? Shouldn’t she be dead?
“It’s not a hard choice,” she continues, glaring at me with those frigid eyes. “Jail isn’t even as bad as you deserve. I’m letting you off easy.”
Jail… or death. But not death. Only nightmares. Nightmares in which I die, which I suffer - but this reality remains reality.
This reality…
No, this isn’t real. This is another dream. In reality, Michi is dead, and if she was alive, she’d be smarter than this. She wouldn’t break into my house to taunt me, she’d go to the cops like a sensible person. She’d stay there for protection. She knows I’m a killer, someone to fear.
This one should know that, too.
At the sight of my determination, her expression wavers. “Is there really no convincing you?”
“No,” I say. “No, there is not.”
I get out of my bed and stand up straight. The clammy fabric of my shirt makes me shiver. I quickly unbutton it and throw it on the floor behind me. That’s better.
I lock eyes with Michi again and approach.
“What are you doing?” she asks, unnerved. “I can scream, you know. And then everyone will see us. I’ll tell them what you did.”
I hear steps. Hurried steps behind the door. A click, and the cracks light up - a shove of the door, and light floods in. In the frame stands Abe.
“What’s going on? What are you doing?” he shouts, but I’m not fooled. I lay my gaze on him and imagine him disintegrating into red dust.
It happens. I smile.
The lights flicker out, and the door closes on the pile of powder. Michi looks at the door, then at me. Stupefied.
I walk towards her. “Nice try.”
She backs up only to bump into the wall. “What do you mean?”
“You had your fun, but now this dream...”
I study the wallpaper behind Michi. Then, in an instant, it shreds to wrap around the girl. A startled gasp leaves her poor little lungs.
“...is a lucid dream.” I grin. Finally, things are going my way. A lucid dream is just what I need after these terrible past few days.
I’m going to get everything I can out of it.
I raise my right hand and bring it in front of the girl. She eyes it, expression quite alarmed.
“And that means...”
Shnk!
Blood spurts out the tips of my fingers, brought forth by the sharp, black talons that have shot out through the skin.
“We’re going to have my kind of dream.”
I snap my new claws, and with the reverberation of the loud click, cracks form in the surrounding walls and ceiling. The scene quakes, raining down dust and small debris. With a flick of my hand, all the furniture of the room decay into ash.
Another flick, and the ceiling and walls shatter, their pieces flinging out into the darkness around us. A gust of wind catches the piles of powder that once formed my dull, gray bedroom, scattering them into the void. Soon enough, nothing remains except for the strips of wallpaper still coiled around Michi.
The blackness brightens just slightly, becoming a deep blue adorned by thousands of sparkling stars. It reveals a familiar setting around us - the forest. As a last touch, I raise the full moon high above. Its cold light falls upon the scene, illuminating each detail my mind has been able to create.
This is perfect.
I turn back to Michi. “There, the scenery’s ready. Now...”
I clasp her face with my hand. The talons prick her skin. She struggles - in vain, naturally. Boy, this makes me smile.
“If you think I’m going to give up killing just because of a few nightmares, you really don’t know me,” I murmur. “So let me set the record straight, once and for all.”
I focus and my body begins to change.
The bones lengthen, the muscles swell. They stretch my skin thinner and thinner, until -- rip, snap, rip. The limit is reached and broken. The futile tissue tears and peels off in bloody patches, exposing the beauty within. Fibers, tendons, ligaments, fasciae, all glistening from blood and plasma. And it so terrifies the girl!
Somewhere deep inside my neck, rows of sharp, conical teeth pierce the flesh. I cough out a bit of blood onto my lips. The taste is mouthwatering.
“It's time you see me for what I really am,” I rasp. She whimpers as she spots the new set of pearly whites peeking from my throat, forming into a predator’s jaws.
Above them, eyes begin to form. At first they see only darkness, but light shines in from my old mouth, brightening by the second as I push my new skull ahead - but the opening isn’t quite big enough. I’m stuck. Hm.
I let my left hand sprout claws of its own and bring both hands to the old human jaws. I shove in my talons and pull.
With an eruption of blood, the jaws pop apart. I tear away the remains of my previous head and cast them off to the side. My old eyes gone, the new eyes see clearly - and Michi sees them.
Glowing yellow eyes with little black pupils stare back at her terrified face. My torn up mouth pulls its corners into a toothy grin as I finish off my new form with a few more details: two curved, milky-white horns and a bony, whiplike tail with a spearheaded tip.
Here I am - the Houndoom.
Michi’s nerves give out. She begins squirming, screaming like a zubat in a blender, desperate for someone to hear and come save her. But no one’s here but us. The tiny girl and the wide-eyed walking corpse, its wet crimson surface shimmering in the moonlight.
I stomp down a bloody foot to halt her wailing. “Well?” I growl. “Do you see now?”
“Yes! Yes!” she screams. “Whatever you say, you freak! Just let me go!”
I let the wallpaper turn limp. Drenched by the many sprays of my blood, it tears apart from the smallest motions of the girl. She stares at her freed self, puzzled by my sudden compliance.
“Well, go ahead,” I say. “Run. Maybe you can get away this time.”
I step back and drop onto four limbs, preparing another wave of changes within my body. Michi blinks, then remembers her survival instinct and takes the chance I've provided her. Her pathetic little run is adorable to watch. It's like she only learned how to walk yesterday.
Now… to really live up to the title of Big and Bad.
I flex my talons in concentration, blood squeezing out of my hands. With a good, long stretch, I expand my bones even further. Tendons lengthen, muscle fibers duplicate. My heels rise off the ground for hind legs better built for running. My snout grows longer to fit even more teeth, more robust for an even stronger bite. I whip my tail with pride - I have become triple my size before. This should allow for the end I’ve planned for her. Now it’s time I make that happen.
With my mind’s eye, I locate a root crossing Michi’s trajectory and raise it. Well enough, it knocks into her shin and sends her face first into the ground.
I leap into a gallop, earth-quaking thumps heralding my approach, and reach her just as she’s managed to get back to her feet. Like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn, I swipe my paw at her, sending her rolling across the ground. She stops herself on her back, but freezes in horror before she can do much else.
“You’re not very good at this,” I sneer. “Now… you know what the Big Bad Houndoom likes to do, don’t you?”
I lower my hand onto her, talons scraping the dirt around her shoulders, and grasp her as gently as a beast like this can. I can feel her shiver as I raise her up to my face.
The fear in her eyes as I slowly separate my jaws - priceless.
“No, don’t --”
She cuts herself off with a scream as I shove her legs into my mouth. The taste of dirt spreads across my tongue, but I’m not doing this for the taste. I’m doing this to finally sate my hunger.
“Let me go, let me go, let me go!” she squeals and claws against my fleshy muzzle, but they’re like scratches of a beetle at best. I shove her in deeper. In her struggles, another flavor begins to seep through the dirt. It’s sweet, it’s gentle… it’s pecha.
And I can no longer control myself.
I push her into my throat and the primal reflex takes over. All the right muscles contract to press her further down, stretching the gullet to its limits. It hurts. It hurts, but I can’t stop grinning.
Silence reigns as the oversized lump makes its painful way through my neck and chest. My pulse is deafening. The back of my brain tingles with its growing lack of oxygen, but my windpipe is blocked. Only once the mass has reached the bottom of the ribcage can I draw in my first breath in seconds.
I breathe hard and fast to revitalize my brain. Multicolored sparks fizzle at the edge of my sight. Oh, Gods. Maybe that wasn’t smart. But the satiation more than makes up for it.
On perhaps the seventh inhalation, I notice my breath is through a human mouth. I take a glance around, and while it’s blurry as hell, I can tell both my body and my room have returned to the way they were before. I suppose all good things must come to an end.
Too hot and too sweaty to sleep in, I remove my pants and throw them into the corner before crawling back into my bed. Finally, I can have a proper rest. A relieved smile forms onto my lips.
Hi, courtesy of catnip I come baring a review. (or 2)
I've done the uncensored prologue (as a horror fan I found the reading quite fun, and while I understand the necessity of offering a softer version for those curious but sensitive I liked the more detailed one more) and chapter one.
the PROLOGUE
Well, preceding the prologue really, and this might be mild quibbling about the gore tag, but I'm thinking cannibalism might be more apropos to either replace or be added... It's a very specific type of gore with its own attendant triggers and I felt it important that it not be overlooked...
I have to admit the fragmented section when the main character woke up through me for a loop and I went over it twice to get a coherent view as to what’s happening. It boiled down to sense/sensation invoked to thought, and I think because it ebbed back and forth multiple times instead of sticking one way or the other that might have been the jarring part.
You know when I ran into the spiral line it made me think of the old Helix/fossil lore from the old twitch streams. I’m not too sure where that tangent came in from but there it was…
The “HE, was right” seems excessive and also a bit confusing. There was no discourse… or dialogue, for He, to be right, in. Now if he was right there it might work… But dropping it also works as it doesn’t impede the clarity for the chain of events sentence that follows.
Now… technically it’s only “stains” if it sets.
Is it the surroundings sharpening or the awareness of said surroundings?
The tone you’ve picked for this piece thus far is interesting. Merging narrative to description, having the little asides peppered through the prose definitely adds an unbalanced slant to the narrative whole as the narrator is clearly out of their mind. It’s curious to see this tactic employed as in my experience it is mainly the stuff of comedy tales as it makes the reader familiar and this can break down barriers. Using this trick allows the narrative viewpoint to be closer to the reader, which in turn makes the narrator’s insanity stand out more and be more personal in turn.
Which definitely builds up the creep factor going in.
Oh, what a sight she is.
And that is the line where the payoff of the familiarity met insanity, and it was such a good one. Shudders.
There was a bit of tonal sift when he referred to the ceremonial killing site as a “crime scene” as he’d neither investigator nor base criminal. I can’t imagine him thinking of his room for ritual sacrifice to HIM as something so base, or pedestrian. Beyond that, the tone held up very well throughout, even in the more technical sections when you tore into the body (with words).
CHAPTER ONE
It’s curious how mundane it goes. The joys of the alarm clock wake up to waffling about getting on with one’s day or considering Red’s distaste for all things “human” not getting on with his day. I’m not too sure how pulling up a front, or basic maintenance, (both which seemed the basis of being “human”) so you can run your illegal/murderous side gig could raise so many internal hackles. But Red seems an avoidant asocial soul, so it makes sense. Logically speaking though, you’d think he’d throw himself into the effort of blending so he could “hunt” more… but ah well, he’s clearly not the type.
I was originally wondering how things were being taken care of considering Red’s distaste for so much, but that question was answered a few lines in, a mix match of family support and live-ins. I’m curious as to how he got/roomed with the nido’ and om’ though, and what their relationship was before he got fixated with HIM and the book, and everything else… Considering Canon I expected him to be a trainer, or a retired one, but the facts of his living situation presented seem to show ‘mon as oddly shaped humans with the attendant expectations of school, etc.
And I’ve no idea what Abe looks like…. Though he seems an older brother… I’m sure it’ll be expanded as the tale goes on.
The scenes shopping sprinkled with Red’s delusions/fantasies and wrestling with them while just... doing something as normal as a food run… It made something mundane very interesting and dark. Though I did chuckle at the inherent cuteness of trying of imagining an omanyte fumbling with a pen and writing on the to-buy list…
Considering everything, I have a good guess that the “gold” thing in the graveyard is a yamask. I’ll have to keep reading to find out I suppose.
Thanks for sharing this opus with us. It’s been a fun read thus far and I’m curious to see how it winds up ending.
Well, preceding the prologue really, and this might be mild quibbling about the gore tag, but I'm thinking cannibalism might be more apropos to either replace or be added... It's a very specific type of gore with its own attendant triggers and I felt it important that it not be overlooked...
Cannibalism is mentioned in the content warnings, I think you happened to miss it: "disturbing/disgusting concepts and imagery such as intense body horror, cultism, torture and cannibalism, as well as depictions of vomiting"
You know when I ran into the spiral line it made me think of the old Helix/fossil lore from the old twitch streams. I’m not too sure where that tangent came in from but there it was…
The “HE, was right” seems excessive and also a bit confusing. There was no discourse… or dialogue, for He, to be right, in. Now if he was right there it might work… But dropping it also works as it doesn’t impede the clarity for the chain of events sentence that follows.
There was a bit of tonal sift when he referred to the ceremonial killing site as a “crime scene” as he’d neither investigator nor base criminal. I can’t imagine him thinking of his room for ritual sacrifice to HIM as something so base, or pedestrian. Beyond that, the tone held up very well throughout, even in the more technical sections when you tore into the body (with words).
I get the point you're making, but my view is that Red calls it a crime scene as somewhat of a joke - naturally, he doesn't view his own acts as immoral or worthy of legal punishment, but knows others would and he takes a little bit of pride in that.
I was originally wondering how things were being taken care of considering Red’s distaste for so much, but that question was answered a few lines in, a mix match of family support and live-ins. I’m curious as to how he got/roomed with the nido’ and om’ though, and what their relationship was before he got fixated with HIM and the book, and everything else… Considering Canon I expected him to be a trainer, or a retired one, but the facts of his living situation presented seem to show ‘mon as oddly shaped humans with the attendant expectations of school, etc.
Oh, that's a mistake on my part, actually. There used to be description of how Abe looked, but skimming the chapter now, it seems that I erased it while revising and forgot to rewrite it.
Red's grip on reality, always tenuous, seems to be seriously under threat this chapter. He's been possessed twice now--first by Konath, and second by Johanna--and it's definitely left an impact. This chapter leans into two of your strengths: rhapsodic writing about internal organs and lengthy, mutating dream sequences. I'm always fascinated by Red's genre-saviness and sense of exasperation with the twists that his subconscious/various ghosts throw at him. Shlorp, yes we get it, indeed. And his rules lawyering with Michi was this mix of pathetic and impressive. It's interesting to me that this story feels at its most tangible and visceral in these dreams and hallucinations, in the houndoom's teeth breaking through his gums. It's the reality Red wants to live in, I suppose.
Red triumphed in his dream, but I imagine his actions today will have some consequences. He certainly drew attention to himself at the store and attention is the last thing he needs.
The fact that it's a voice he doesn't recognize seems to rule it out being all the people whose voices he would recognize, so the second sentence feels unnecessary.
That’s not -- no, that can go ahead and be true. Because it doesn’t matter to me. It doesn’t matter what some little mon thinks. I’m going to be a god. That’s the only thing that matters. That’s the only thing I care about.
Oof. I like the sudden brutality of the grab heart imagery. The Helix stuff hasn't been the focus of this story, but it's definitely a big part of the context.
I gargle up some saliva and spit it down on the asphalt. There. Let that foamy lump be a warning to any other enjoyers of decency. And who says people like me don't do good deeds.
His veins. His veins and arteries. I can see them. They sprawl along his face like the roots of some fungus, diving into his sockets and orifices. Was he always this pale? Is this some reaction his body is having to the copious amounts of crying he’s done judging by his reddened eyes? No, somehow it doesn’t look unhealthy. I’m not repulsed as I would be at signs of sickness - instead, I’m drawn in. Those red and blue lines are so vivid in their color, they’re like… they’re like candy for children. Sweet, juicy… plump. Full of blood. So full that it feels like the blood would just squirt right out if pricked with a needle. It would spray right onto me, my skin, my mouth...
My gaze slides down to his chest. Deep in there resides that beautiful, colorful organ. Day and night it ceaselessly works to keep that blood flowing. So diligent. Yet this man gives it no thanks. He takes it for granted, even makes it work overtime with unnecessary stress.
“Sir, are you okay?”
I look back at his face. Wrinkles above the eyebrows. Slightly ajar mouth. Confused. At my behavior.
“...Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” I respond with lazy lips, and he goes back to his speech.
But am I okay? Am I okay with this? No, I can’t be okay with this. He doesn’t deserve that heart. And if I’m twice the man he’ll ever be, why shouldn’t I take it for myself? If I had two hearts, neither would have to work as hard anymore. They could work in shifts, one doing what a heart’s meant to do while the other takes a well-deserved break. I’ll give that heart a good home.
I sneak across the store like a lost rodent, peeking into every aisle I pass by and changing course whenever I feel like I’ve found a right turn, but time and time again I’m mistaken.
It doesn’t help either that each time the signs seem a little harder to read. And each time I turn around, my steps get heavier… it must be my blood sugar dropping down. All this stress is just burning me out faster. Thoughts get blurred, repeated, forgotten only seconds later… hey, I was in this aisle already. Which way did I turn last time? Left? Guess I’ll take the right…
The soft touch of the flesh underneath my thumb nearly has me sink my teeth into it already, but no, I need to be a person for just a few moments longer.
I pause my breathing to listen for any clues - but the store's gone silent. Unbearably silent.
I look around, and what I see is even worse.
Puddles and smears of red coat the once-white floors. Bodies lay strung about here and there, some intact, others ripped apart. I creep to another aisle - same thing. Next one, same thing. Same thing, same thing, same thing. It’s really starting to seem like I’m the only one alive --
Was it him? Did he kill all these people? Did he have the same thoughts I had here last time, but lacked the luck that snapped me back to reality? He kinda looks like me. He might think like me, too. Right now, he’s frozen just like I am. Just standing there.
I can’t wipe it on my clothes, it’ll still show. Unless…
With great care not to stain any visible area, I slip my thumb underneath the waist of my pants. I pull it outwards to allow my other hand to enter the space inside, and that other hand props it up enough to let me slip my first hand in. Alright, fantastic! I rub both hands against the insides of my pants, hoping dearly that there won’t be enough blood to seep through. It seems that there isn’t, but the blood is also taking its sweet time coming off --
The bones lengthen, the muscles swell. They stretch my skin thinner and thinner, until -- rip, snap, rip. The limit is reached and broken. The futile tissue tears and peels off in bloody patches, exposing the beauty within. Fibers, tendons, ligaments, fasciae, all glistening from blood and plasma. And it so terrifies the girl!
Somewhere deep inside my neck, rows of sharp, conical teeth pierce the flesh. I cough out a bit of blood onto my lips. The taste is mouthwatering.
I've seen a fic where Red's part of Team Rocket, but I must say that this quite the take on Red. You've mentioned the story a lot, and I'm glad to be checking out works on the forums. Now, I don't usually read this genre, but I don't have any problems with reading a work like this. I'm just not super familiar with this kind of genre.
Red doesn't come off as out of the ordinary on the surface, which I do feel is the intent. On the inside, he's definitely got a lot going on, which is also an understatement. His internal dialogue implies that he's part of a cult. You show Red's internal struggle very well, as well as his thoughts in general.
I think the best example of this is the supermarket part. He attempts to be "normal" but his mind is going to the darkest place within him.
A wailing noise pierces the air. What? What is that, a siren? No - it’s a baby, a few checkouts over. And it is loud. Gods, my ears…!
I glance at the other people around me. They, too, wince every time the screaming surges in volume. But nothing more. They just stand and take it. And it just keeps going! I really can’t stress enough how horrible this is. This screech could put a victreebel to shame!
Isn’t the mother doing anything? No, she isn’t. How can she bear this? If this was my kid, I’d have chucked it out the window a long time ago.
No, it’s okay. My turn is coming up. I can already start placing my items onto the conveyor. Look, look, there they go. Maybe I have to wait a few seconds every now and then so that more space clears up, but I’m advancing. Time is passing. And now the woman in front of me is already paying. She leaves to pack, it’s my turn. See, everything’s okay. All I have to do now is to wait for my items to scroll past…
But how could I?
How could I let this go?
These people… they so clearly want that screaming to stop, and yet they refuse to act. Why? Because they’re worried they’ll make a scene. Be part of the scene already happening. Get disapproving glances thrown their way. Stick out from the group. Show some kind of individuality, free thought, free action! It’s terrifying to them to look bad for just a moment!
What worthlessness! What thanklessness towards their ancestors! The ones that built their own shelters, hunted their own food, made their own rules, all for these meek mareep to take it for granted and worry about the utterly pointless instead! Humans used to struggle for survival, and now these overgrown infants take it on a silver platter. They’re domesticated. Inbred by good times to be harmless, lazy and stupid!
They should be taught to fear again. And I… I should be the one to teach them.
No, I have to teach them. It’s my duty. I’m the only one who understands. The only one with a knife, the only one with the power. Yes, I should be the predator to rid the ecosystem of these pathetic slobs. The fearow to dive into this swarm of fat rattata and impale them with its beak and talons.
My fingers have already gotten the message. They stroke the smooth, wooden hilt of my excellent knife, caress it. These people might all think I have this for self-defense alone, but oh, no, no, no. This is my fang, my claw, and it’s itching for flesh to wrap around its blade.
I know what I have to do, and I know how I’ll do it. I’ll unsheathe my knife in the blink of an eye and slash it across as many throats as I can. Blood will spray on my face, mark me as the danger. They’ll all see it, and they’ll all run. Run and scream. In blind panic, some will flee deeper into the store and doom themselves merely by shortsightedness. Those will become my prey. Prey I’ll chase into the aisles, prey I’ll catch and tear apart, consume. Inhale their fear, taste their agony as my as my claw makes outsides of their insides. Their blood will soak me, splash onto the shelves. Paint the rainbow red. Brilliant, authentic red to break up the phony, lifeless hues of capitalism. Warmth for this cold day.
Everyone's just going about their usual day, and you show that it bothers Red. On the I like the use of Fearow and Rattata as a metaphor(I hope that's the right term). I like to do a similar thing, but I use it for more comical scenes.
Then, he goes into a fantasy about killing everybody, only to snap out of it. What I find interesting in this:
Gods, just… how could I lose all my rational thought like that? How did I not play that scenario to the end? Obviously I would've been shot, put down like a rabid animal, and then I would've been dead! Dead, dead, life over. No body for my soul, no brain to think with. Only the void. What is the void like? No one knows. Not even HE knows. Perhaps not even the creator. Terrifying. And that's why it's important I don't let that happen to myself, why I should become the Bringer and ascend to divinity. Don't forget that.
My view on Red is that he's a loony, but this shows something else. This shows that even if he has fantasies and urges, he has far bigger ambitions and is able to come back from such fantasies. At least, for now I presume. It also shows that Red isn't stupid, hence why he chastised himself.
Nothing. Oh. That's disappointing.
Wait, at the edge of my sight! Another glint - and it's immediately gone. Disappeared behind that pine tree.
This thing is quick… and it makes no noise when it moves. It has to be a magnemite. Nothing else around here could be golden and float. Except maybe staryu, but why would one come out so far from the sea…?
I cross from the yard into the forest proper and hide behind a tree of my own. After a few eventless seconds, I sneak to a tree even closer to the creature's presumed hiding spot. Motionless, I stay in wait, keeping my eyes out for anything golden. Or anything at all moving independently from the wind.
Something. Something's emerging.
A golden edge peeks out from behind the pine’s trunk. Come on, come out. More floats out. Wait… that's not a sphere. It's a… it's like a concave oval. With eye holes. A mask from behind?
It floats in midair, supported by no limbs or wings. It seems to move with conscious intent, but no clear destination. It seems confused. That makes two of us.
Just what is it? Where did it come from? What's its purpose? Is it dangerous?
I might get somewhat closer to knowing the answers if I saw its other side. But it doesn't want to turn on its own, it seems. Some encouragement is in order…
Slowly, I crouch to pick up a piece of gravel. I pick a direction - towards the bushes, they'll make more noise - and chuck the little rock. It lands in the bush, shuffling the leaves sharply. The mask quickly turns around --
I like how the first chapter ends. It's a very mysterious, suspenseful ending.
Overall, you wrote this very well. You established Red's character well, and his attempt to live at least somewhat of a normal life. However, there's definitely a lot more to him, plus that whole cult thing.
Canis this chapter was fucking wild LMFAO. Just when I thought shit would mellow out, it'd accelerate back up to 100 in a matter of seconds. It seems like Red is really...spiraling. Like just the way he was examining Joanna's brother (i think that's who it was lol) was so unsettling. This man literally has pregnant lady cravings, but it's only for blood. Imagine passing up a croissant for blood? Couldn't be me. But Red's a nutjob, and it's still well and true in this chapter. Why are all the hot ones so insane??? Sadge.
That dream sequence with Michi was FUCKING AWESOME. I loved that whole bit with her riding on this giant metal spider thing in the woods, wearing a headlamp. What an actual badass. And it leads me to believe that it wasn't fully a dream...I'm starting to think that she's coming back to haunt his ass too, but she might not be a ghost. Idk, I still have a lot of questions.
The part where Red morphed into a Houndoom was also unsettling. The way you described that shit was on a Stephen King level. Get it, sis.
Anyway, love it, vibe with it, can't wait to see what else is to come.
Wait. Past the aisle, on the floor - a red puddle. Is that...
No, it can’t be blood. Why would there be blood on the floor of a supermarket? It has to be ketchup or berry juice or something. Yes, that’s it. Of course it isn’t blood. Nobody’s hurt, nobody’s bleeding, and that’ll become clear as day as soon as I get past these shelves --
Someone’s lying in the puddle. Face down, motionless.
Well… alright, that’s a bit more alarming… but maybe he took a fall. He does look pretty old. He took a fall and he landed on whatever he was carrying, which happened to be filled with some red fluid, and it burst open and made that puddle. That is what happened. Unfortunately, now that I’ve clearly noticed him, I’m obligated to help or else they’ll catch me being criminally negligent on surveillance tapes. What a pain in the ass…
I walk over to him, circling the puddle to avoid getting whatever that stuff is on my shoes. I crouch next to his face and reach for his shoulder --
Okay, I AUDIBLY gasped, because I thought he hallucinated going to get the salmon while he actually knifed some rando, but this was the hallucination...you had me in the first half, not gonna lie.
With great care not to stain any visible area, I slip my thumb underneath the waist of my pants. I pull it outwards to allow my other hand to enter the space inside, and that other hand props it up enough to let me slip my first hand in. Alright, fantastic! I rub both hands against the insides of my pants, hoping dearly that there won’t be enough blood to seep through. It seems that there isn’t, but the blood is also taking its sweet time coming off --
“Hey!”
I look up and freeze. A man in a dark green shirt has entered the aisle, and he’s looking straight at me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, approaching. Oh Gods. Why is he even doing that? He has no weapon on him. Doesn’t he know how much I’ve slaughtered? He… can’t be aware, no. If he knew, he wouldn’t dare to approach. But then what the hell is he confronting me about --
The bones lengthen, the muscles swell. They stretch my skin thinner and thinner, until -- rip, snap, rip. The limit is reached and broken. The futile tissue tears and peels off in bloody patches, exposing the beauty within. Fibers, tendons, ligaments, fasciae, all glistening from blood and plasma. And it so terrifies the girl!
Okay, I've read the alternate prologue and first chapter of this fic for Catnip. These are my thoughts and opinions on it.
Red is a very different protagonist from most of the pokemon fics I've read out there, though that's largely in part because I've not read a lot of fics or stories in general with a villain protagonist. I think the last media I've touched with a true villain protagonist is Deathnote, but Yagami is a very different kind of villain in his own way.
I'll give credit where credit is due. The prologue and first chapter are both well written. Writing this story in a 1st pov was a smart choice as, being a villain, Red spends a lot of time monologuing in his thoughts. He judges folks a lot, he comes up with his own justifications and logic for whatever he does whether or not the reader will agree with his actions, and we get a very close look at just how twisted those thoughts can get.
Though we don't get to see much of Red's relationships with the other characters as of the first chapter, I vaguely recall from Seiren that there's a mutual tolerance going on between him and the other tenants. I don't know if they're aware of his murderous behaviors or what they make of it, but it'd be interesting if that ever got addressed in any of the HHverse fics you've written up to date.
From what I've seen so far, HH is well written and there are decent build ups of tension here and there, especially that chilling murder fantasy scene at the grocery I'm glad didn't overstay its welcome. The fic is a decent read and I'd recommend it to anyone who doesn't mind the blood and gore, or unconventional protagonist archetype you don't see every day.
So I read the alternate prologue and the first chapter... and Red is certainly a character. His narration is exactly what I'd envision from a psychopathic serial killer. It commands presence, and sets itself apart from any other first person character I've read easily. It's very recognizable, very well done job here.
The prologue certainly set up some intrigue, with the entity Red worships and the murders he does for it. I can't help but wonder just what this 'accession' he's talking about is. If he wants it, and thinks its a good thing, I can't help but be worried for the future. Also cult magic shit, that stuff I am intrigued about...
In the actual first chapter, you sow tension quite well. With Red having to blend in with the world at large and his obvious disdain for society... it all adds up as an interesting part of this story. And right at the end... with that cliffhanger... I wonder who that Yamask is...
Wow, it's me, providing some thoughts on what you have posted of this story so far.
In the prologue, I initially sort of assumed that it was taking place from the perspective of a pokemon or some less intelligent creature. I think a big part of it is the lack of pronouns. But if you changed that, it would probably weaken the sense of confusion, so I don't think that's really what we want. The crying organs were cool, though, and I am certainly not disappointed with the gore descriptions.
Graveyards are always nice. Everything about them is designed to be tranquil. Sturdy stone monuments plant to the ground in rows and columns, some simpler and less ornate than others. Engraved on their surfaces are names and the occasional aphorism. Flowers at the graves dot the scene's otherwise mild palette with vivid reds, yellows, purples and whites. The natural vegetation is much more modest - soft moss and short, prickly grass grow at the edges of the tombs and cobblestone paths.
This moment particularly humanized Red for me, contrasting the sensory overload of the grocery store with the mildness of the graveyard. It sort of ties the concept of death to the concept of peace in a way that I can understand. And there's kind of an abstract sense of triumph in being alive in a place full of buried corpses. Certainly can see how that might appeal to Red.
The way that Joanna's ghost speaks by saying "Ma" makes her especially pitiful—it keeps reminding me of, like, a baby crying for her mother. I know it's probably supposed to be the "ma" in "Yamask", so I don't know if that sideffect was intentional or not, but it was a nice touch.
Chapter 4 was really suspenseful for me. This story in general is really suspenseful for me. I think it is because I'm expecting that things are going to go south for Red at some point, and that he is ultimately going to lose, but I just don't know when. So when he told Michi and Joanna all about his evil plans and even let Michi escape, I was thinking you were setting him up to get caught. Like maybe one of Michi's ghost friends was going to intervene to give her a chance to get away. And yet, even though that didn't happen, things still did deviate from the plan quite a bit, making for a very entertaining scene and showing how easily Red can lose control of himself.
The hallucination with Kohath was pretty heartbreaking. Also heartbreaking is the way Red tries to force himself not to care about Helix. He's basically put all of his eggs in the ascension basket, as far as feeling emotionally fulfilled goes. And in a way, I can understand it. Becoming a god would be pretty cool, and it makes sense that someone who is afraid of death (which, I mean, most people are to at least some degree) would go to great lengths to achieve immortality. And now that he's gone as far as killing people, it would be really hard to imagine turning back. He's sort of trapped, in a weird way, and I think the stress is taking a toll on him.
Those red and blue lines are so vivid in their color, they’re like… they’re like candy for children.
Cool, great to see the hunter is no longer haunted, now you just have to wrap up all this ascension business and the story will be over, right?
Anyway, I enjoyed reading this. I think Red is a very funny character, internally monologuing about how he's the ultimate predator in a world full of mareep and bemoaning the state of humanity... meanwhile he's doing stuff like getting lost in a grocery store and using the library because the internet scares him. Frightening yet pitiful. He reminds me of some real mass murderers in that regard, esp. the ones who kill more out of frustration than for any real cause. He seems pretty realistic. I can understand how an outcast/traumatized person would say "screw it, I have nothing to lose, I'm going to become the Bringer."—it's like, your existence becomes validated, if that makes sense. You don't need to feel anxious around people. Of course, I wonder, if Red did become the Bringer, if it would really make him happy. He still wouldn't be loved, after all.
Here's a suggested revision for a random paragraph in chapter 2—I put my proposed changes in bold.
And why wouldn’t I? Now that I don’t have a target to tail, I can take in the little wonders in my surroundings. Tiny white buds line the edge of the path - rawstberry plants blooming/about to bloom ("properly bloom" just sounded odd to me). Above them sway branches of shrubs and evergreen trees cut "alike", casting chaotic shadows. Between them hang stray strings of spiderweb… okay, that's not so nice, not a fan of spiders… but dry leaves and needles crunch beneath my sneakers, their blanket broken up by the occasional root slithering across the path. Beside (for some reason "outside the path" sounds odd to me) the path, mounds of moss cover the forest floor (or some other verb—"blanket" might be good because it sort of leads into the idea of lying down on them, but I feel like it might not be accurate for something that's lumpy... maybe "cushion" can work...). They look soft enough to lie down on. Ah, nature… I’m glad there’s at least something that can cheer me up on these gloomy days --
At first I thought I'd do line reactions but I ended up with too many lines quoted and it would have been pretty repetitive so I'm just gonna ramble~
Red. I thought it would be hard to come up with things to say about Red that I haven't already, but turns out, I've got a lot. I will never get over the way he goes off on these grandiose speeches only to be interrupted by the slightest thing that just completely and utterly makes him lose his cool.
While still espousing how he totally has things under control. Totally.
You swing the pendulum in and out of his control near-constantly and it gives this wonderful momentum that carries the story forward even when 'technically' not much is actually happening! The swing from tension to relief and back again turns even the most mundane sequences into edge-of-your-seat situations. Even though I already know the general flow of events in the story, it just does that good a job at convincing me that everything could go horribly wrong in an instant.
But more than anything, I think what jumped out at my the most in my reread of these chapters is just how afraid Red is. Fear permeates almost every aspect of his being. He's terrified of dying. He's terrified of not being worthy of ascension. He's terrified of being like the prey that he looks down on. He's terrified of rejection. Rejection from Kohath. Rejection from Helix. Rejection from HIM. Any time he gets to revel in the thoughts of all the good things that are coming to him as the bringer, he gets dragged back to earth by the terror of losing it all.
There was a long gap between when I read chapters 5 and 6 and so I entered the dream sequences with a slightly fuzzy memory of what had come before, which had the great side effect of making me almost as disoriented as Red was! I couldn't remember if the funeral really had come out of thin air or if it had been mentioned before, and it wasn't until Red got called to the stage that I pieced together that it was another dream. And then they just keep coming. Even though the reader can then spot them coming after that, the fact that at any moment, we have to question whether or not what we're seeing is even real--it does a great job at putting the reader in Red's shoes.
Some quotes from chapters 6/7 since I read those recently:
Either way, this is a killing machine. Perhaps the brain isn’t as sophisticated, but what need for complex thought is there when my purpose is clear and unobstructed?
Oh, it’s coming from the bottom. From that rock, the little cave within it. Soon I’ll feel that creature’s soft flesh between my jaws, its useless struggles for survival. I slither closer and closer, all the way to the entrance. I’m ready to strike. I plunge my head in, teeth bared. What will I be eating?
Eyes wide as plates stare back. Eyes I know, framed by blue arms and a spiral shell.
What’s He doing here? It’s not safe out here. If any predator found Him, He’d stand no chance.
You do a really great job with these whiplash moments where Red gets to revel in something before having it ripped out of his grasp by having to confront his own shortcomings.
Okay. Shit, uhh. How do you start a speech? I need to make it good, or at least believable. If Joanna really is the deceased and all of her family is here, I can’t have even a single one get the idea that I wasn’t on terms that great with her, as that would make me a suspect in the case of her disappearance. Although it’s not like I can do that now, can I, having told her brother over there that I didn’t know her at all. Fuck! Where did they even get the idea we were close? Did someone spot me stalking? No, enough thinking! I need to start the speech!
I really love the way that he just spirals here trying to logic through this, and since I had such a long gap before reading this chapter, I felt just as out of place as he did.
“She was a bright young woman, independent, supportive of her friends and family…” I try to remember some real life example that I’d witnessed while stalking her, but the only thing I can think of at the moment is her lying on the floor eating cheese snacks while watching some weird, weird anime on her TV. Uhh.
I glance at the mirror above the sink to see my body, but my body, it’s -- red too. Bloody. Full of holes. So many small, deep, black holes. Puncture wounds. No skin is left. Only torn muscle, shattered teeth, deflated eyes, dripping vitreous humour, blood, that’s really bad, that’s really fucking bad, I’m gonna go blind, what will I do without my sight, I’ll be helpless, useless -- but wait a second now, wait a second, how am I seeing all this if my eyes are…
In real life I wouldn't end up in such a situation to begin with. HE wouldn't have me kill the omanyte, that's directly against HIS interests. My job is to protect the omanyte as it's a valuable asset. Not killing it in my dream was only wise! It needs to stay alive…
Wow. Now that’s a metamorphosis. The man in the mirror has transformed from an under-bridge raticate to a street-strutting, show-stopping ninetales. No one would guess that this stand-up citizen killed women, took their tongues and stored them in jars in his basement.
Oh my Gods. Oh my Gods. He really just pulled the ‘bigger man’ shit. I hate him. I hate him so much. Kill. Kill him. Knife. The hilt is cool to the touch.
Because I’m not there to call it ‘my lord’ anymore. I’m not there to be weird anymore. The omanyte can now bring people home because I’m no longer in its way.
Well… alright, that’s a bit more alarming… but maybe he took a fall. He does look pretty old. He took a fall and he landed on whatever he was carrying, which happened to be filled with some red fluid, and it burst open and made that puddle.
Hello there! I was given this fic for Catnip Circle. So this is the first story of yours that I've read and I have overall little knowledge about TPP - outside of the memes, of course. Still, I went into this story excited to see what you could do and I was very happy with what I read. Well... happy may be the wrong term at times with what happens, but the story was fantastic from start to finish. It was engaging enough that I decided to read the whole thing instead of a single chapter.
So let's start off this review with the star of the story: Red himself! I'll be honest that when I went into this, I was expecting the typical Silent Protagonist trope that most people use with him. Instead I was pleasantly surprised to see that not only does he talk, but he's the source of some very funny dark humor. He works as a really good villain protagonist. From the start of the story, it's clear that Red is asn close to pure evil as can be. A lack of empathy for other Human, a narcissistic view that he is the only one worth anything, taking pleasure in the horrific acts of murder and cannabalism. If he were the villain of a detective story, he would be an incredibly memoral villain. As the focus of the story itself, he's an incredibly memorable main character instead. I like how there's some... uncertainty in Red's cause as well. Uncertainty about whether he actually is serving a terrible chaos God - Praise Be To Helix - or if he's just lost touch with all reality and desperately needs help. I'm curious to see where you take this in the end.
Then there's your other characters. While I don't know much on Abe - I only know that he's also from TPP - he seems like an interesting character. He does seem to care for Red by going through all this trouble to try and help him, so I'm curious how you'll use him. Is Abe and by extension the psychiatrist going to be the angel on Red's shoulder trying to get Red the help he needs and stop what he's been doing? Or will he eventually become one of Red's victims? Only time will tell.
Then there's Michi. Poor girl... she tried her best to help someone and in the end pai the price for it. In another story, I could see her being a very interesting protagonist. Seeing her actually get the upper hand on Red for a moment when they first met and giving him a taste of the fear he instills in others was also interesting to see. Going forward, I'm curious how you'll use her. Will yet another Yamask show up, this time as Michi? Or will his mind continue to plague him with nightmares and hallucinations?
Now for the writing and plot itself. As far as the writing goes, it's excellent. The story flows nicely, the descriptions are vividly horrific when they need to be, and funny in a macabre way at other times. The plot itself is also interesting since I'm constantly left on the edge of my seat wondering what will happen next. Will Red continue to lose touch with reality? Will he get caught? Who will his next victim be? When will the truth about him be revealed to those close to him? My only critique as far as the plot goes is that the conflict with Joanna so far seems to have been solved quickly and overall without much fuss on Red's part. I'm curious if you have something up your sleeve for the future with Joanna still or if there's a new threat for Red to face?
And that's it! That is my review for your fic! It was a great story and I can't wait for the next chapter!
EDIT: I've been thinking about some things and I've decided I want to put up a disclaimer regarding the psychiatrist scene and about Red's "diagnosis" in general. Catch it under the spoiler.
There's a scene in this chapter in which Red is speculated to have antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). When I was first writing Hunter, Haunted in 2017 and fleshing out his psychology, this is what I intended. Despite my research, though, I ended up writing a character that in the end isn't really that closely representative of the typical traits and behaviors of ASPD.
Now, it is true that human beings don't always fit diagnostic criteria perfectly, but I've since realized that it would still be irresponsible of me to make it appear as if Red really was representative of ASPD. While character in-universe may suggest Red may have this condition, this is only because it is those peoples' best guess. In truth, Red is simply Red - his own psychological profile that does not fully match any existing diagnoses.
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IT'S BEEN FOUR MONTHS AHAHA how did that happen? well, i guess summer job and a really difficult scene happened. there were 3k words worth of outtakes in this revision, no joke.
anyway! this chapter is rated mature for strong language, some gory metaphors and discussion of a past traumatic event. i should also mention that this chapter has considerable arachnophobic elements, so if spiders freak you out, be warned. alright, enjoy!
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Illness
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There was no doubt about it - I’d become sick.
It began from the moment I woke up. Pain. A dull, pressurized pain in my gut. As my mind shook off the haze of slumber - well, as much as it could - I gained the ability to better describe the pain.
It was as if all the organs around the area had detached from their ligaments, letting them flop around freely. After that, they'd all been filled with small cold stones, dried up and shrunk. And finally, on top of all that, their muscles were still inexplicably contracting, causing the organs to ceaselessly squirm around inside me, pressing and grinding against each other and the inner walls of my body.
Basically, I’d become a living, breathing ore processing plant.
This naturally made life very difficult for me. As the fatigue that had struck me yesterday had only strengthened, I found myself almost completely unable to walk. My limbs simply wouldn’t stay straight beneath me.
Luckily, I could still crawl around. I could use the bathroom and drink from the tap. I was on my way back from one such visit when I remembered water wasn’t the only sustenance humans needed, but the carousel inside me strongly disagreed. I knew going without food had a good chance of making things worse, but once I looked down the stairs, I decided that a little starvation was preferable over a broken neck. And so, defeated, I slithered back into my room, buried myself under my blanket and tried my best not to think.
Time passed. Whether it was minutes or hours is still unknown to me. I tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. Slumber kept circling me like a wingull stalking a poorly-guarded burger, but it refused to dive. The light from my window flashed my face over and over again… and then, my savior arrived.
I heard a voice from my door and turned towards it. In the frame stood a humanoid creature shorter than a man, but taller than a child. Its head resembled a dark-vined tangela without eyes.
I tried recalling the words it had spoken, but I remembered only some sounds. I stared at the being with miserable eyes, pleading with it to explain itself again. Fortunately, it did.
“Are you feeling alright?”
Now that I’d actually paid attention, I recognized the speaker immediately and felt quite stupid. It was Abe. Obviously.
‘No, I feel terrible,’ I attempted to say, but what came out was more like the mating call of a stantler buck.
Fortunately, he got the gist. “Do you want me to bring you anything? Food, water?”
Food had probably become a smart investment by then, and if I could get my water through some other way than channeling the spirit of a slug, all the better. I gave the closest thing I could to a nod along with another horny-stag-roar.
“I’ll get you a sandwich and a glass of water,” Abe said. As he withdrew, I promised myself I’d remember this on the day of ascension. I’d repay him then with a quick, painless death. Or perhaps by turning him into some bird mon. Something that flies has a much better chance of fleeing the Helixians.
Abe returned some time later with his promised sandwich. I chowed it down as fast as I could, which wasn’t very. I thanked Abe with another groan as he left the glass on my nightstand and left. I could tell he would come back again later in the day, and I was happy. Happy that Abe would be there. A rare feeling.
I actually managed to get some more sleep after that, although dreamless. It was a shame as staring at the same room for so long had made me hungry for variety, but at least it meant no nightmares.
What woke me up was another visit from Abe. It went roughly the same as the first, though I also asked how long it had been since the previous visit - a request that took plenty of effort and patience from both parties to be successfully delivered. It had been four hours, but Abe had also checked on me somewhere in the middle quietly enough not to wake me. I accepted the sandwich gladly, as the previous one hadn't made me any sicker. Though it's not like it made me any less fatigued, either.
Visit three was special. It began the same way as the others, but once the food delivery had been negotiated, Abe spoke new words. I didn't catch all of it the first time around, but once the words 'psych appointment' registered, my mind suddenly sharpened. I recognized my pain and exhaustion as ailments of my body, distinct from my consciousness. The fog in my mind thinned considerably, and for the first time in a while, I felt truly awake.
"Psych appointment?" I repeated, to the great surprise of both Abe and myself. The stantler had learned to speak.
"Yeah," he half-said, half-gasped. "I had rescheduled it to be two days from now, but I wanted to ask if you thought I should cancel that and reschedule again."
It must have been the illness that made me say no.
In retrospect, there was every reason to cancel the appointment. I had been very sick for almost a full day and logically I should have anticipated it to continue. There was no pressure to have that appointment as illness was a completely acceptable reason to skip it.
But there I was, drunk on the sudden clarity of my mind. Feeling as if I was getting better by the second. That two days from then, I'd be in the best shape of my life.
And the worst part of it all?
I was right.
"Red?"
I look to my left to meet Abe's curious eyes. I guess I must have gotten lost in thought.
“Sorry. Just thinking,” I say and give a reassuring smile --
Oh, right, but he can’t see it! He can’t see it because I’m wearing a mask! Because it’s the considerate thing to do when going out in public after being sick. Good thing my dear brother was there to remind me of this before we departed. Good thing I didn’t want to bother arguing…
“Alright,” says Abe, and we walk underneath the overgrown entrance and through the front door. We head for the receptionist… who’s the same as last time. Joy. Well, better just get it over with.
I reach for my knife and just barely notice the receptionist flinch. I almost smile, but his reaction’s not enough to make up for having to give up my weapon again.
I detach the scabbard from my belt and place it on the desk. “You know what to do with it.”
He smiles with his mouth, but not his eyes. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he says as he takes the knife. I nod and silently wish for an accident to befall him later in the day.
I pocket my hands and begin heading for the stairs. “You can leave now,” I say to Abe. “I’ve wasted enough of your time.”
“O-oh, no, it’s nothing,” he chuckles. “As long as you get help.”
I stop.
What did he say?
I turn around, but he’s hurrying to the exit already, avoiding my gaze as he stutters his goodbyes. “Yeah, um, hope it goes well. See you later!”
He slips away before I can think of the right way to word the question on my mind. All I’m left with is a tense silence as the receptionist no doubt struggles to restrain himself from some kind of remark. I decide to start climbing the stairs before either of us ends up losing control.
Get help. Get help for what? How have I appeared to be in need of help? I’m perfectly fine. Well, okay, I’m not, but Abe shouldn’t know that. He should only see me as kind of a grump, not as the bloodthirsty predator I actually am...
Hold on. Now I remember something the psych said last time. That Abe had told her I’d seemed ‘unhappy’ and ‘on-edge’, or some other words to that effect. And he mentioned my ‘violent tendencies’, which is bullshit because he only knows about that through word of mouth at school. Is this all he needs as an excuse to force me to get my head checked? Speculation and rumors? That doesn’t sound like Abe. He can’t have made this decision on his own. Someone else must have --
Of course. It all makes sense. This is the work of that puppy crush of his, Alice. That’s why Abe could bring her slaking friend to make sure I didn’t skip the appointment last time. She has her fingerprints all over this. She’s convinced herself I’m some kind of mental case to explain my occasional odd behavior and spread that belief to Abe, and now she’s gotten him to pressure me into psychoanalysis. She must feel so smart. So altruistic, too. The psycho will get his treatment and the rest of society will be safe from him.
Well, unfortunately for her, I feel the best I have in weeks. I’m going to utterly charm that shrink with my normalcy and return with clean papers. And Alice will have to admit she was wrong. Though I suppose she technically isn’t. I pretty much am a psycho. It’s just that she shouldn’t assume.
Having reached hallway E on the third floor, I pick a chair and sit down. It’s the one furthest away from the table. There’s really no way that spider is still there, but… well, it doesn’t matter. It’s my ass and I get to choose where I put it.
Since the hallway’s empty, I can safely remove my mask without anyone scolding me about it. I tuck it in my pocket, and it’s like it was never there. Like I’d just conveniently forgotten it. Shame about all the people I’ll infect now. I hope their number is high.
A minute or few later, Dr Marsh’s door opens, and the psych in question steps through. She calls me in, I get up and enter, all as predicted - though her clothes are different from last time. They’re still black and white, though, and those red glasses and scarf haven’t gone anywhere. She knows her signature.
Once we’ve seated ourselves on the green armchairs, she opens her notebook and asks what is sure to be the first of many questions. “So, I heard you’d gotten sick. Feel better now?”
“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” I say with a smile. Stupid bitch.
“That’s good...” She writes something in her notes. I don’t understand her priorities.
She straightens her white wool sweater, then looks back at me. “So… you mentioned last time that you’d given up school to take care of your sick friend, correct?”
Damn it. I was hoping she wouldn’t bring up the omanyte anymore. “Correct.”
“And you spend most of your time tending to Him, then?”
I’ve set myself up for a ‘yes’. I suppose I’ll have to give it and only hope Abe hasn’t said anything contradicting. “Also correct.”
“Is it your parents that support you, then, or some other party?”
I suppress a sigh of relief. No accusations yet. Though it’s not like parents are among my favorite topics, either… but, really, what kind of shrink would this woman be if she didn’t bring those up at some point?
“Primarily, it’s my mother and stepfather that provide for me, my brother and my mon companions, but Fonz also takes short jobs from time to time,” I reply. “Fonz being one of those companions.”
“I see.” She writes something down in her notes. I guess that answered something she had in mind. I hope in the right way.
As I shift my position for comfort, I realize I’ve crossed my arms and legs. Should they remain this way? It can appear hostile. But it also shows defensiveness. Are more people comfortable or uncomfortable in a situation like this? Should I untangle my limbs only later on to give the illusion that I’ve warmed up to her?
Gods, people are so much harder when their guard is up. Maybe I shouldn’t overthink this. Maybe that in itself will make me seem unnatural.
Dr Marsh raises her gaze from her notes, and that's my cue to listen up.
"Would you describe yourself as impulsive?" she asks.
Oh, we're back into those form-questions again, it seems. Boring, but safe. "No, not really."
"Are you irritated easily?"
"I wouldn't say so."
"Have you ever stolen anything?"
Stolen? “Where did this come from?”
“It’s just a standard question. Don’t think much of it.”
I doubt it, but this’ll all be over faster if I just go along with it. “Well, no. I haven’t stolen anything.” Probably have, but the less I think about it, the less I’m technically lying.
"Did you have many friends at school?"
"A couple." That's standard, right?
"Do you still spend time with them?"
"...Not as much, but yes, occasionally. Like when Helix is at school." Proud at that quick thinking, I almost smirk. People love it when you tie things together.
"Aren't they at school?"
Ah. Should've known nothing would be that simple with her. "During recess."
"Those seem like good friends."
Seems like she accepted that answer. "They are."
"Have you ever been in a relationship?"
What, are you interested? "No." I see no need to lie. While society loves to see people jam themselves into relationships - there’s an entire holiday to applaud those that give in to their hormones - statistics are still on my side. There are plenty of guys my age that are interested in more important matters or simply unlucky when it comes to the dating game.
She withdraws to her notes again. I take the time to let my eyes wander around the room, refresh my brain a little bit. It's not terribly interesting, but --
Something moved.
In the little dark crevice at the corner of the ceiling, something moved.
Was it a fly? Or was it --
Long, pointy limbs stick out, and the ugliest of critters crawls onto the wall. Yep, a spider. Gods… is this building especially alluring to them somehow?
Whatever. As long as it stays all the way over there, it doesn’t matter.
“Alright, Mr Akai,” starts the psych, drawing my attention back to her face. “I must be frank. I do not believe you’re being honest.”
What?
No, don’t stop to think, respond, respond!
I reach an awkward hand behind my ear and scratch. “Uh…” I chuckle. ”Sorry, what do you mean?”
"I have a knack for lie detection," she says, leaning back, "but I'm not making this accusation purely off a hunch. I know you haven't been speaking the truth."
I grasp the arm of my chair a little tighter. "How so?"
"I had a long chat with your brother in preparation for this appointment. He let me know about a lot of things - especially how you've barely said a word to your omanyte friend in months."
My heart jumps.
She knew. She knew and she led me on regardless, only to uncover it now. And it's… it's exactly what she did last time, too! Why didn't I see it? Why didn't I --
No, don't dwell on that now. You need to fix this.
I sit up straighter. "Well, I mean… it is true that I've been more distant to Him lately, but that's because He asked me to do that. He felt like He'd been spending too much time with me, and that We should take some time off apart. He wanted to become more independent, too. You know how it is." Please know how it is.
"Well, that would make sense," she says, "but I talked with your friend Mr Fonz as well, and he said the reason behind the silence between You two was some incident back in February. He didn't go into too much detail, but he mentioned that he would have expected you to start talking to Helix again by now - and that Helix agreed."
Fuck. First Abe, now Fonz - can't those fuckers keep anything private? Just how much did they tell her? Did they really give those details? Is she just setting me up for another pitfall? How am I supposed to respond --
The spider in the corner moves. It’s coming down the wall. And behind it, from the crevice it crawled out of, new legs emerge --
No, the spider isn’t important! Focus!
“Mr Akai?”
Fuck! You’re not helping!
My glare makes her recoil. Shit. No, I can't let her see she's getting to me. Look down at the floor and calm down. You haven’t said anything incriminating yet. You can still make it through this.
"I'm sorry I have to pry into private matters like this," she continues, "but your close ones believe it's relevant to your mental wellbeing, and that means it's relevant to a thorough analysis."
‘Sorry’. Bullshit, you’re not sorry. This is a game for you. Catch the patient lying, force them to reveal their secrets. Ring up the police and reap the glory as they cart away the nutjob. Oh, what a hero you are!
“I would appreciate it if you were honest with me from now on. You don’t have to share everything, only what you’re comfortable with - but please, don’t try to give a false impression. I’m going to be able to tell anyway.”
She speaks these words in a comforting voice, but she must know that the implication is anything but. Nevertheless, I give a defeated nod. It’s not like I have a choice.
“Now, this silence between you and your omanyte companion… how do you feel about it?”
Well, how do I answer this? The Red that cared for the omanyte would be devastated. The Red that must no longer care for the omanyte would not be bothered. Problem is, both lead to further prying from the psych. If I was so attached to the omanyte, it wouldn’t make sense for me to keep my distance for so long. If I wasn't that attached to the omanyte, that'd contradict Abe and Fonz's testimonies and make her question why I'd change my attitude so drastically. And the answer to that is a door to all my deepest secrets…
So is it attachment, then? It’s the lesser of two evils. But how am I going to motivate staying away from the omanyte while still making the psych think I’m normal and don’t have any problems?
...Maybe it’s already too late for that.
Maybe revealing that secret is the only way to protect the others.
“It’s… it’s complicated,” I finally say.
“Complicated?”
I feel the vertigo of standing at the edge of a cliff, but it’s either this jump that’ll break my legs or dropping from a plane without a parachute.
“The incident that Fonz was talking about...”
I go back to February, to that day, to that moment.
The omanyte stares at me with eyes wide as plates as I babble on about my delusions. He’s trembling.
No, not He, it. You may be thinking back to a time when it was still a He, but now He is an it.
Alright. It is trembling, trembling because it doesn’t understand why I’m acting the way I am. Why I threw away its phone. Why I told the omanyte that it was in danger, that the phone would kill it, when phones had never been dangerous - it was always the computers, and only at the Centers. And only because of the Twitch. Which happened six years ago. And never since.
“Do you know what happens to computers when you’ve got the Twitch?” I ask.
“They begin malfunctioning, don’t they?”
I nod. “Yeah. The pokéball storage system doesn’t work. It traps the mon in their balls, and it makes the unregistration feature...”
“Break them.”
I nod again. She’s done her research.
“Well,” I continue, “knowing that, having no control over your body, and your companions being trapped with you… you naturally develop a fear. At least, I did. A fear of… screens, user interfaces. Very inconvenient in this day and age.”
“Certainly.”
“And when a companion of yours is just… browsing away on their smartphone, and you take a poor trip down memory lane...”
I grit my teeth. But this is the price I need to pay to still walk out of here a free man.
“Well, you freak out. You think that phone’s another death machine. You take it and… throw it away. And when they question you, when the others join in to ask you what the hell you’re doing, you tell them you were mistaken, that the distortion never went away, that you just wanted to believe it and got careless… and that little omanyte is going to become very scared.”
A short silence.
Does she believe me?
“I see,” she finally says. “So that’s what happened.”
It sounds like she believes me. It sounds like she wants to ask more about it. I sigh in relief. Finally, I catch a break.
“So… you scared your omanyte companion, and now you feel like you should stay away?”
Yes. Precisely, yes - that’s how I felt before HE ordered me to drop my attachment completely. I nod with my neck far less tense.
“From what Mr Fonz said,” she begins, “it sounded like Helix did not want you to stay away. Were you aware of that?”
Oh, this is perfect. This is the resolution that’ll satisfy her, make her feel like she really solved a problem, that she mended yet another person’s life like the savior she is.
“I wasn’t,” I breathe out in realization. “I thought I’d ruined it all, that I’d...” I chuckle at my own naivete. “But I guess I just let my fears run wild, and now...”
I plaster a sickeningly wholesome smile on my face. “I can just go to Him.”
It.
Right. “It.”
I freeze.
The blood drains from my face.
She didn’t hear that, did she? Just in case she did, I should...
“I mean Him.”
...No. That was the worst thing I could have possibly done.
I nail my gaze to the floor and seal my lips tight before any more reckless, life-ruining words can get out, but for the split second I could still see the psych’s face, I knew it was already too late.
“What was that?” she asks, but it’s clear from her tone that she'd heard each word.
Clinging to whatever control I have left, I give no answer.
But what’s she gonna think about that? It's only gonna confirm her suspicions. Instead, I should pretend like I never said that at all. No - that’s suspicious, too. Shit!
“Did you refer to Him… as an ‘it’ right now?”
She’s going for it. She’s going for it. Oh Gods.
As much as I dread seeing her expression, I have to check. I give her a glance. I see confusion, but more strongly, intrigue.
But if that wasn’t enough, there’s something else - something on her shoulder. Something black and many-legged. I check the back wall -- empty. No Spider One, no Spider Two. It’s fair to assume the one on the psych’s shoulder is one of the two - but where’s the other one? Is it near me? Is it --
“Mr Akai?”
She forces my eyes back to hers and, consequently, my attention back to the conversation. Right. I can’t stay quiet. I have to say something. I have to at least try. Maybe stall for time first?
“Sorry, what?” I say in the most casual way I currently can.
She leans back. She’s not repeating the question. Did she decide it was just a silly slip of the tongue with no underlying cause? Could I be that lucky?
“You’re very nervous all of a sudden,” she says. “Are you perhaps… afraid of being diagnosed with something?”
Is that common? It might be common. I doubt normal people like being branded as abnormal. Yes, I may have a shot with this approach. If what I say is partly true, perhaps she won’t sense any lie.
That confidence lets me relax my posture a bit. “Well… yes,” I say, clasping my hands together. “I wouldn’t want you getting any wrong ideas about me.”
“Oh, I am a trained psychiatrist. You can trust my judgment.”
Trust you to get me locked up so you can clean the blemish off your perfect society. Sure, I’ve killed. Sure, I’ve tortured. I am a criminal. But am I really expected to believe you’d just let me walk out here totally free had I done none of it and only had the urge? That you’d stick to human rights with someone you brand inhuman?
She shifts in her seat. “I want you to know, Mr Akai, that a diagnosis is nothing to be afraid of. On the contrary, it’s better to be diagnosed with something than to remain unaware. That way both you and the people around you can understand you better.”
Oh, shut up. I already know everything I need to know about myself, and HE knows the rest. No one else needs to know a goddamn thing.
At least she’s focusing on convincing me of this now. Maybe if I keep her busy with it, our time will run out before she can get to actual conclusions, and I’ll be able to come up with a million and one reasons why I can’t show up by the next time she wants to see me.
Once again, I shield myself with the truth as I ask my next question. “But won’t being diagnosed with something make people… want to avoid me?”
“They don’t need to know if you don’t want them to,” she says. “All of this is confidential. Not even your brother or your parents can find out if you don’t want them to, as long as there’s no pressing reason they should for their or your own safety.”
Hm. Better not let her find out how often I’ve dreamed of killing my mother, then.
“What would those reasons be?” I ask, my expression unchanging in its concern - but on the inside, I lean back and lift up my feet with a smirk on my face. As long as I’m asking her questions, she can’t ask hers. I’ve found the path out of the labyrinth, and the light of freedom’s coming ever closer.
Even the spider’s retreating. It crawls onto her back, out of sight. Excellent - it’s very likely going to be squished the next time the psych leans back again.
“If you told me, for example, that you frequently thought about hurting other people or yourself and expressed having difficulty fighting back these urges.”
“I see.”
“Do you have urges like this?”
I --
Do not answer directly. Conceal your true feelings.
“That’s quite a question,” I laugh. “Do you see me as someone that would?”
"Don't take it personally," she says. "This, too, is a rather common question. For safety reasons, you see."
"I see." I suppose.
"But I will admit…"
What? What?
"Your brother's mention of those 'violent tendencies' did partly motivate the question."
Shit. Right. She did say Abe had told her something like that before. What did I answer then? Surely I must have dismissed it - but if she's bringing it up again, she must have not believed me. Knowing now how she can detect lies - likely not perfectly, but to some extent - it makes sense. And she's already caught me lying more than once now.
"We didn't really get to go through those last time," she continues. "I'd like to talk about it now, if that's okay."
If that's okay… so I could say no? Actually refuse to answer? Why would she give me that option --
Ah, of course! She must be asking this in case those experiences were too painful to bring up. I mean, it's not like mine were anything enjoyable. Mostly I fought against the students that would talk shit at me…
Which makes it the self-defense of a victim of bullying. Which makes it a perfect sob story. Yes! I'm going with this.
I give a shy nod, avoiding her gaze. "Sure."
"In what kind of situations did these tendencies manifest?"
"When being bullied, basically," I sigh. "Some other kids recognized me as a target, I suppose, and it only got worse when they found out they could exploit my anger and get me into trouble for being in fights."
Conveniently, I leave out the part about the guy I paid to act as my personal punching bag each Monday to help curb my bloodlust for the rest of the week. It's not like I look back at those times with the joy I used to, anyway, given the last time I saw the guy, he really fucked up my plans… and just because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Even when that was clearly part of our agreement...
"What do you think made you a target?"
"Well, you know, being the lonely, quiet kid… easy pickings."
"Were your friends not around those times, then?"
What friends?
Oh. Oh Gods, right.
"They, uh, they… yeah, they weren't. I wasn't with them all the time, you know."
Her eyes narrow just a little, but it's enough to know my story's shattered. She could tell I had no goddamn idea what friends she was talking about.
"There's no shame in admitting you had no friends, you know…" she says - but there's more to come.
"But I don't get any shame from you."
I swallow dryly.
She leans back now. "You're still trying to cover up, aren't you?"
Eye contact burns too much to hold. I drop my gaze to the floor, but that heat still radiates.
How deep is she going to dig? Will she not be satisfied before all trace of deception is gone? Before all that I am is on record? Before she's flayed me and counted each one of my veins?
Silence holds as I have no words left to say. Seconds later, she sighs.
"Perhaps it's my turn to be honest."
What?
My eyes leap back to her face, and her stare no longer blazes like before - but the relief doesn't last long as I see something that freezes me instead.
I see the thin black lines on her ear and my hopeful side says they must be stray hairs, but then they move and do it too quickly - they're legs, legs of a spider. The spider.
It's dragging itself across the ear, across her skin, but she shows no signs of noticing. Can she not feel it? Can she not hear it?
"Since you seem very concerned with what I think about you..."
Oh Gods, she's talking, I better pay attention.
"...I'll tell you what my current theory is."
Theory? About me? Is she -- is she giving the diagnosis, right now?
"The way you lie so naturally and seemingly without shame, how your brother talks of past violent tendencies, how you're possibly trying to reduce your friend to an it in your mind…"
I try to follow what she's saying, I try, I try, but the spider keeps crawling, now moving onto her cheek. How can she not notice it, why doesn't she notice it, why doesn't she flail and scream? Is the spider so light that it can't be felt? It has to be. But that means…
That means there could be one on me right now and I wouldn't know it.
I swipe across my face, then down my arms, then along my thighs, all with lightning speed to fling off any spiders, real or imagined. I only freeze once I remember where I am.
I check the psych's face. Startled, surprised. Explain this, quickly. What's the sanest reason?
Right, I guess it's pretty close to the real one.
"I-I'm sorry," I get out. "Felt a spider."
A painful second of silence follows - but it's dulled the moment she responds. "Oh, alright."
So that was normal. Normal enough, at least. I exhale in relief.
"So back to what I was saying…"
What was she talking about again?
Oh, wait. Oh shit.
Her eyes capture mine once more - and I flinch at the spider uncomfortably close to her eyeball.
"Those traits seem rather antisocial."
Antisocial. Anti, social. The opposite of social. Social means friendly, outgoing. The opposite is a misanthropic loner.
In other words, me.
She has found me out.
No, no, she hasn't! She hasn't found out about my bloodlust, my murders. She doesn't know the full story. Right now, all she can assume is that I prefer to spend my time alone. Nothing more.
"Do you feel that word describes you?"
How should I answer? No, I'll respond with a question again! Stall until I come up with another plan!
"H-how is that word d-defined?" No, don't stutter! She'll see through you!
"The most formal definition, I believe, talks of behavior sharply deviating from social norms…"
Her words become muddled again as the spider heads for her eye. My breathing halts. She can't possibly ignore what's to come.
"...and a persistent disregard for the rights and feelings of others. Informally, though…"
The spider reaches the corner. Its legs play with her eyelashes. She has to feel it. She has to feel it. She has to feel it so I can feel it. So I can know there's nothing on me when I feel nothing instead of Gods know how many little legs are creeping on me, my skin… but there it is, lifting and lowering its legs undisturbed, just at the edge of her eye. If it goes any further --
"...people call a person like that a sociopath."
It steps onto the white of her eye. Squish.
"That's enough!"
The words, the roar, burst out before I could think. My muscles threw me off this chair to stand upright. My lungs, frozen before, now hyperventilate.
The psych stares at me with the shock I expected her to get from the spider - but that spider's now nowhere to be seen.
It fell off. It fell off, or it crawled inside her eye --
No! I claw at my scalp. Don't think that, it's not even possible, so don't torture yourself with the thought --
"Mr Akai?"
Her voice is calm. She shouldn't be calm. She's putting on an act because she's afraid of me. But she wasn't afraid of me before, no, she toyed with me. She's calm for another reason. She knows something I don't. She's pleased with how things have turned out. As if she --
"Did you plan this?" I spit. She flinches, she planned it. "You did. You-you trained them somehow to --"
Then she knows where that second one is, and she has some plan for that one, too, it must be on me --
I shake my whole body. I ruffle my hair, nails scraping the scalp to blood. Get off. Get off. Get off.
But wait! If she can command them, she can command them off me. I just have to threaten her, yes! I jerk up my head and turn to her, take a step --
She’s terrified.
She’s halfway off the chair, frozen in an awkward crouch. The angle of her position suggests she was heading for the door. To escape.
Me.
Because I’m acting crazy.
Slowly, I stand up straight. The room is either silent or the pounding of my heart just makes me deaf to all else.
Okay. Okay. What now? I-I just suggested she was somehow controlling spiders to fuck with me. That makes no sense. Why did I even think that? Am I losing my mind?
No, no, I’m just freaking out because I hate spiders so much. I admit it, I’m arachnophobic. Could she buy that as a justification? If she can tell when I’m lying, she should be able to tell when I’m being honest, too, right?
I let out a discomforted chuckle, unsure how much of it was natural and how much was feigned to enhance my act. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I assure the psych with hand motions and all, and I can see her settling back down on the chair, the fear in her eyes easing up. “I just really, really don’t like spiders and there’s a couple in here and they’re stressing me out, especially since they’re making it so hard for me to act normal which I need to do because in actuality, I’m --”
No.
No, what did you just say?
“You’re what?” asks the psych. She’s on edge, still, but her pen hand is trembling, trembling with triumph, I’m sure. I just all but admitted I’m a psycho. This was the final piece to the puzzle. I can no longer salvage this. I’m ruined.
No.
I can still make sure it doesn’t get any worse!
I sprint to the door, startling the shrink, but she doesn’t try to stop me. I grab the handle - and stop for a split second to reassure myself there are no spiders on it - and wrench the door open, pushing through to the other side.
“Mr Akai, please --”
“No!”
I throw the door shut and slam my back against it to keep her from coming out. Heartbeat bombarding my ears, I ruffle my hair again, ruffle to get rid of all real and imaginary arachnids. My body convulses with violent shudders. I shake myself like a mightyena after a dip in a pond. Only instead of water, it’s spiders. So many spiders.
I run to the end of the hallway, turn the corner, then run and turn another corner, then stop. There are nothing but hallways here. Nothing but white, no windows, no doors. I really should have bumped into something familiar by now if I was going the right way… should I go back to where I started and try again?
Oh Gods. Things just keep going wrong. I’m lost, I’m hyperventilating, and there’s probably people searching the building to detain me at this very moment. I just wanna get out. I wanna get out of here as soon as possible, before anything else goes wr-
Oh boy, this was one of those chapters I had to read inch by inch using the down arrow. I can't say I was in quite as much distress as Red was watching that totally-real-and-totally-not-a-hallucination spider, but it was a close one. I could see Red digging his grave with every word and gesture. I really liked the way you integrated the spider creeping on the psychiatrist's face as her questions struck closer to home--such a nice externalization of how her words were getting to him. I have zero fear of spiders--they are good frens who catch mosquitos--so the fear and disgust that came through in the narrative belonged entirely to Red's character voice and your writing. It's also satisfying to see Red's inner conflict about Helix betraying him here. He's so used to forcing himself to turn Helix into an 'it' that he does it at the worst possible moment.
The psychiatrist's dialogue felt a little more caricature to me than what a professional would say in this situation, but I understand this encounter has to be somewhat intense to move the plot along. Thus far when Red's lost control of himself, it's been in more anonymous situations that he can extricate himself from and not receive any consequences. I'm guessing that this isn't one of them. Time for things to heat up for our apex predator!
The metaphor here didn't really land for me. Theme park rides wouldn't take place in sub-zero so it doesn't really suggest an image, and in sub-zero temperatures, things don't move, so it's hard to meld together 'sub zero' and 'things moving really fast all over the place' as concepts.
As he withdrew, I promised myself I’d remember this on the day of ascension. I’d repay him then with a quick, painless death. Or perhaps by turning him into some bird mon. Something that flies has a much better chance of fleeing the Helixians.
The way you're using 'previous' here needs a noun attached, ie, 'the previous one.' You'll also be wanting a comma in front of the 'as.' (as takes a comma when it's being used as an explanatory conjunction. As you can see, it doesn't need a comma in certain other uses. A good rule of thumb is if you can substitute 'since' for the 'as', it takes a comma.)
Since the hallway’s empty, I can safely remove my mask without anyone scolding me about it. I tuck it in my pocket, and it’s like it was never there. Like I’d just conveniently forgotten it. Shame about all the people I’ll infect now. I hope their number is high.
This made me start speculating on what Red would be like during covid. I feel like it's a coin flip between 'convinced he can't get sick because superiority complex' and 'extremely paranoid about mingling air and touching surfaces.'
Couldn't follow his reasoning here. The fact that it's rare for a boy his age to have not been in his relationship is a bad fact in his quest to appear normal, so I wasn't sure about the 'as a plus' which sounds positive.
I see the thin black lines on her ear and my hopeful side says they must be stray hairs, but then they move and do it too quickly - they're legs, legs of a spider. The spider.
Oh boy, this was one of those chapters I had to read inch by inch using the down arrow. I can't say I was in quite as much distress as Red was watching that totally-real-and-totally-not-a-hallucination spider, but it was a close one. I could see Red digging his grave with every word and gesture. I really liked the way you integrated the spider creeping on the psychiatrist's face as her questions struck closer to home--such a nice externalization of how her words were getting to him. I have zero fear of spiders--they are good frens who catch mosquitos--so the fear and disgust that came through in the narrative belonged entirely to Red's character voice and your writing. It's also satisfying to see Red's inner conflict about Helix betraying him here. He's so used to forcing himself to turn Helix into an 'it' that he does it at the worst possible moment.
I'm really glad to hear that went well! I spent so long going back and forth with that. Probably about half the outtakes I had for this chapter were the spider parts done slightly differently.
The psychiatrist's dialogue felt a little more caricature to me than what a professional would say in this situation, but I understand this encounter has to be somewhat intense to move the plot along.
This is true and it annoys me, but it is indeed because of plot reasons. I also think of Jordan as being kind of unprofessional in general, which I would mention at some point in the story, but I can't really think of a natural spot. Red's unlikely to complain because he's paranoid enough to think that psychiatrists totally just have the right to fuck with people in order to expose them, so there couldn't be a reaction from someone like Abe and so on.
The metaphor here didn't really land for me. Theme park rides wouldn't take place in sub-zero so it doesn't really suggest an image, and in sub-zero temperatures, things don't move, so it's hard to meld together 'sub zero' and 'things moving really fast all over the place' as concepts.
"In sub zero temperatures things don't move" is not a mental notion I really share, living in such a cold country, but this metaphor is kind of a hodgepodge anyway and I think I could come up with a better one. Or just leave out the sub-zero part as the coldness isn't really that important.
The way you're using 'previous' here needs a noun attached, ie, 'the previous one.' You'll also be wanting a comma in front of the 'as.' (as takes a comma when it's being used as an explanatory conjunction. As you can see, it doesn't need a comma in certain other uses. A good rule of thumb is if you can substitute 'since' for the 'as', it takes a comma.)
Couldn't follow his reasoning here. The fact that it's rare for a boy his age to have not been in his relationship is a bad fact in his quest to appear normal, so I wasn't sure about the 'as a plus' which sounds positive.
You may be right about that thing about teenage boys - I didn't realize it before, but most of my "teenage boy" experience comes from ages 13-15 rather than 16-18 (closer to Red's age range) due to the fact that I went to a high school that had overwhelmingly more girls than boys. I think I just thought they stayed the same way, which upon more thinking is probably not true. Though technically, in my favor, Red also spent only a year in high school before dropping out, so he wouldn't necessarily know, either. But it can definitely be worded better.
Thanks for the review! I hope you enjoy what's to come.
