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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Jan 26, 2014 1:20:41 GMT -8
You're only aware of strange snippets of sound. The panic of a voice, a bit of an argument. You can't make out any words. Your body feels so heavy, and you are so tired. You feel yourself being grabbed by the limbs, your body being dragged. A murmur of vague chatter. You are lifted. Then, it all gets a bit fuzzy...
You have a dull memory of pain. Maybe you've fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position. Where are you? You're not home in bed. Everything hurts. Your skin hurts. You feel like you've been raked with an iron brush. Your limbs feel like so much dead meat. You can't even feel some of your limbs. They're still attached, aren't they?
Where are you?
It's dark. You can't tell if you can open your eyes. Maybe you flutter your eyelids, you're sure you are. It's so dark, you can't tell if you are blind. Are you blind? You can't move. You have the sensation of something tight around your chest. So tight that you can't breathe.
You're not breathing.
Maybe you choke for air, but you find that you can't lift your head. You can flap your mouth uselessly, though.
Then there is light.
Your eyes burn, and you are startled by the sudden glare. You get a blurred vision of sickly green. Then you hear the sound of squeaking wheels.
"You're in the hospital. There's been an accident." A calm female voice says this, you can't place it. It sounds like your ears are stuffed with cotton. You're wet, everywhere. Blood? What kind of accident was it? You begin to see more clearly, the green of hospital walls, your own chest covered in white, spattered with pink blotches. You're alive. But why can't you breathe? Maybe you try to get their attention, whoever's rolling you along. What was going on before? You were at a party? Was it a dream? You can't speak, you can only roll your eyes around. They feel like gluey marbles in slushy sockets.
A string brushes against your face, and you're able to twist your heavy head in that direction. An IV full of red. A transfusion? But isn't the blood supposed to go the other way?
"We're going to give you a sedative. You're going to be okay. Don't worry." The gurney stops, and you are only able to see rows of green tiles before the world goes dark again. But shouldn't you be breathing? You do feel a little tired, maybe you go unconscious for a bit. Then you begin to feel a growing sense of panic. The pain is unbearable! The sedative isn't working! Shouldn't you be getting a pain killer or something? You thrash around, not knowing what you need but you need it!
You become insensate, thrashing and pulling against your restraints. Someone is moving in the room and you can't see them but you are struck with the urge to destroy them. Pull them apart and taste their blood. Their blood. That's it...
Then it hits you like a shot of heroin. Something coming from that IV. You become calmer, regain your senses. When that wonderful drug stops hitting you, you are left still leaden and aching. It wasn't enough. It hurts so much and you can't move. You can't feel some limbs, and some of them feel like they've been stapled on haphazardly. You hear a faint sound of dripping, your IV? You can only smell the insides of your nostrils filled with blood. What kind of hospital keeps you in the darkness? Or have you really gone blind?
More and more you can't move and you're still not breathing. But you can still think. ((post here what your character would be thinking about as this goes on. You can't speak, or see anything more than what I've described. You will be like this for hours, slipping in and out of fitful nightmares and feeling like your body is falling apart.)) Eli was locked in an endlessly repeating nightmare. He'd sit up out of bed and find his legs had been cooked into meatloaf. Then again-- wake up, sit up, arms fall off. Flesh sliding off his bones and plopping next to him in bed, rubbery and slimy. Awful fever dreams, and he often woke and coughed and vomited. The room was so dark and sickly, and he called out to Dad or Mom or whoever was supposed to be taking care of him, but they never came.
Maybe it was real, maybe his teeth were falling out and littering his pillow. Maybe he'd gone blind as his eyeballs melted and ran down his cheeks. Maybe he'd really scratched at an arm and torn through the flesh in dark ribbons. But how could that be possible? How could he have gotten so sick? The moans and sobs around him made him imagine he'd been a part of an awful accident. The building had collapsed and he was surrounded by other dying people. He was pinned by a girder, locked into place. He'd never escape and no one would ever come for him. And would anyone be there to care that he was gone?He woke from fitful dreams...
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Jan 26, 2014 3:16:24 GMT -8
August-August felt his skin tear like paper... His mouth would scream but it was just soggy sheets of a forgotten script...Useless. He smelt raw meat and wanted to retch, didn't he say he was vegan? Why did nobody listen?
A dead rabbit stared accusingly from his wooden mantle, he still remembered the warm feel of it's fur.The sunlight streaming as it hopped through his backyard.
He was a vegetable, locked in bed like an oversized doll. August could see his family's distraught faces, his mother feeding him, bathing his wooden limbs...The smell of lilies. A funeral? Was there a fire? Everything hurt... Was he home? How did he get there and what had become of the movie...
August tried to hear voices, just something more. He was going to be forgotten, nothing to give... Just an empty block of flesh on a bed. His scripts collecting dust and rust, crumbling into nothing. Was he hideous? A mess of meat left out in the desert sun. Becoming dry dust mingling with the sand.
Pins and needles brought his skin to life, fluid dripping through filling everything up again. Formaldehyde? He was being preserved... stuffed like all his grandfather's trophies. It explained his tight skin, the cotton feeling in his mouth. Stuffing where his organs used to be. He had no need for them now. His useless eyes, now shiny and glass. Staring empty from the wall. Why did it still hurt though?
What had he done? Would he be remembered for anything at all? August awoke from his nightmare...
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Post by Sir Milo Quartermass on Jan 26, 2014 4:08:24 GMT -8
Quinn was terrified, utterly and without question. He tried to gag, but couldn't manage that. He tried to breathe and couldn't muster a single puff of air. It threw him back to a time in his childhood when he had been so, so ill and he'd suffered from a temporary bout of sickness-induced sleep apleia. Alpnea? Ap...ap...his brain couldn't conjure the words anymore. In the back of his animal brain he remembered the desperate, clawing need to breathe and his utter inability to do any such thing. He was disoriented and wanted only to curl up in a dark corner and hide.
His agonized mind threw him into fever-dreams. He dreamed of all his teeth tumbling out while he tried to play violin at home and then he had to stop Sal from eating them. He failed and Sal grinned up at him, hollow eyed, with a mouth full of human teeth.
He dreamed that his guts were turned to piano wire, slicing him open from the inside and tumbling out of his belly like thousands of shining worms.
Every time he fought his way from one lurid nightmare, he tumbled headfirst into another. There was no peace whether waking or in dreams. At one point he was sure he was reaching for Leo's hand only...when he thought he grasped it, his mind perceived the skin of his hand sloughing off like a discarded glove. It heightened his terror. He was too insensate to try for Eli or August after that...if he had had any sense about him before.
He was trapped, panicked and abandoned in an abyss from which the only relief was whatever dripped from that IV. Even so it was a cold comfort for in whatever lucidity he salvaged he found only a more rational capacity to grip onto the reality of what it perceived as mortal peril.
Quinn wanted his mother. He didn't want to die.Somehow, Quinn still lived...
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Post by Trinity on Jan 26, 2014 9:03:31 GMT -8
Leo's dreams were by far the worst she had ever had. First it was her father, his hands tightly clasped around her throat, violently shaking her as he squeezed every ounce of air out of her body, if she had any at all. "It's your fault!" He would scream occasionally, "Your mother would still be here if it wasn't for you!"
It passed. That dream was replaced by the image of her last girlfriend before all of this started. What was her name? Leo couldn't remember. Her lips were moving, but Leo couldn't make out the words. Then her eyes fell out from their sockets bounced away on the floor, accompanied by the girls teeth and limbs. She fell apart like a corpse, and soon she was only a head. A snake crawled out of the empty sockets of her eyes, trailed up Leo's body, and tightly wrapped itself around her neck, constricting her. She struggled to get it off, but found she couldn't use her arms. Did she even have arms anymore?
She wanted Eli, she wanted her brother! Why couldn't she breathe? Was she suffocating?! 'Some stars are.. are.. ugh..' Her brain couldn't finish the thought. It was as if a dark cloud sat on her mind and blocked any sort of information to reach other parts. There were moments when she would awake and see only darkness, but would fall back into pain-induced comas.
Would she never see her father again, Theo or Scar? Would her dad die old and alone, never knowing what happened to his only daughter?
All of this passed, and another terrible dream where Ru and Babette criticized her makeup skills began. The dreams never seemed to end. 'Someone.. Kill me..'Leo awoke from her nightmare...
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Post by Skullbooty on Jan 26, 2014 9:24:55 GMT -8
Warning: This contains traumatizing events and could be triggering
Darkness and numbness surrounded the body of boy. Surprisingly, Jason wasn't afraid; he wasn't even curious or depressed about the particular situation. He felt more...angry than anything else honestly. He was angry that he wasn't dead- he wanted to die like this.. he felt as if he needed to die. Dying surrounded by your dearest friends and with a glass of rum in your hand sounded like the best death. But instead, he was going to die in pain and in agony.
Fragments of Jason's life began to murmur throughout his thick skull:
Jason was back in Svellal where he was at the home that he was born in. At this time, his nineteen year old self was in his five year old going on six body. His small yet gentle body was standing behind the oak door of the entrance to his kitchen. His long velvety black hair swept across his bright green eyes as he stared at the event that changed his life. His was witnessing his father beat his cancer burdened mother, Astrid with a cast iron tea pot. Salty and warm tears dripped down his porcelain doll like cheeks. He dug his nails into the sides of the door while he stared at the horrible event. It didn't take him long to realize it but rage and intense anger filled his tiny and fragile body. If he didn't take action now, his mother was going to be beaten to death. Without wanting his father to notice him, Jason scaled his hand along the top of the marble kitchen counter. Adrenalin ran through his body as his tiny hands ran across the handle of a carving knife. Jason grabbed the knife as he sprinted toward the back of his father. WHAM! The knife ran through the lower back of the abusive father. The father screamed in agony as he fell to the tiled floored. Blood dripped down the sides of the fathers lower torso as Jason ran to his mother.
" I can't feel my legs!" the father screamed."I can't feel my legs!"
Jason stared in awe as his mother tried her hardest to move and pull Jason away from the situation. Truthfully, she was thankful of the brave five year old boy. But, she would never realize how bad that the traumatizing event will effect Jason. Astrid quickly took what she could and left the house with a few momentum and the car keys. The grief stricken mother drove to East Side Elementary school to pick up Jason's brother, Gunnar. Together, the three left the country with only a few momentum, cash, and the car keys. Because of the impact of the situation, Jason never recalled what happened that day. The only thing that left a scar on Jason was the severe depression the Jason had gained. It was later to be found out that Jason's father is now permanently paralyzed from the waist down and is now forced to rely on a wheelchair to get from place to place.
It was unfortunate that it took another traumatizing event for Jason to remember another..At last, Jason awoke...
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Post by Kristi is prescribed skeletons on Jan 26, 2014 11:58:43 GMT -8
An overwhelming scent of iron was invigorating. It was like how Trevor's hands got after using the old garage door handle back home.
If he was going to be in hospice for an extended period, or even if there were to be complications that take his life, Trevor knew many people through university that would love looking after his collection.
Although his chest was bound with gauze Trevor managed with great focus and concentrated effort to feebly move his stomach muscles in a most unnatural way.
Trevor's parents were already set financially. He didn't think he needed to worry about that if he was dying.
When moving his right hand finger joints only very slightly they made a ghoulish cracking sound that was surprisingly loud.Curious... Trevor found himself in a room...
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Padmé AmiDaniella
Coolish Skeleton
Nighttime is kinda sadtime, huh?
Posts: 568
Gender: Genderqueer
Pronouns: She/Her, please
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Post by Padmé AmiDaniella on Jan 26, 2014 13:44:24 GMT -8
Sophie was frightened. Where were the others? Were they all dead? Was she alone? She tried to speak.. there must be a nurse nearby, but her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.
She fell asleep again, and she dreamed she was back at her childhood home. She had a fever, and her Gram was smearing medicine on her forehead that smelled sickeningly sweet, like overripe fruit. She realized that her forehead was burning, the medicine was popping and searing through her skin and dripping into her nasal cavitity. She struggled to turn her head. "Gram, what is this? It hurts." Her Gram smiled deeply, but the corners of her mouth split into fissures across her face, widening until her head cracked apart like a watermelon with a wet "pop". Next, someone was peeling her skin like an orange, and her arteries and muscles were laid bare and boiling in the sun.
Was she awake or dreaming again? There was no rest either way.Sophie awoke at last...
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Post by Dr. Jar on Jan 26, 2014 13:53:53 GMT -8
Ru wondered, vaguely, what it was that he had seen. He had to get home. He struggled through the membrane of the dream to break free. He had to tell his mother, mother I’m sorry I’m alive, nothing happened we’re here.
I’m here.
She’ll be sad that I’m dying. She liked to sit in her room and write when everything was quiet. She’d never share the plots of her stories with him, but asked him to read them instead. Sometimes he wondered how his quiet and sheepish mother could write such bold, fantastic men and seductive, sleek women. Were they all a hidden part of her, tucked away somewhere? He saw them in his mind, splitting into various shadowy forms, with black, cruel eyes.
He dreamed of wearing cotton dresses his mother bought him, to try to convince him that he looked better this way. She didn’t understand. He wanted to weep but there was no control. It was simply the strange and foggy land between wakeness and sleep when one was weary.
And why did it hurt? He wondered at first if it was his teeth, or a cramp but it was far worse than any of those things. He struggled to be free. Eat, drink, live. He loved life. He wanted to live. They were so young.
His father will be sad. He was always vaguely disappointed in Ru, but Ru never realized his dreams either personally or in his career. His father loved him. The make-up was sticky. So sticky. The waterproof kind. He wanted to scratch it right off his skin. Sticky sticky everything was too tight the binder was tight and he wanted to get it off. So tight it was suffocating him. Those things are bad for your health don’t do it.
In his dream he chased deer across a field like a wolf, it burned his muscles but he was so hungry. Ru awoke...
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Jan 26, 2014 14:41:32 GMT -8
Her body was coming apart at the seams; Babette needed a needle and thread. She couldn't let her red innards hang out for the world to see. Ru - where did Ru go? He'd fix her, just like last time.
She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Babette's voice had been stolen. In fact, all the sounds around her vanished, except for a slow, miserable swell of organ music.
White words flashed in front of her eyes: BABETTE DIES!Lovely. She was starring in a bloody silent movie. Another one of August's masterpieces, no doubt.
More captions appeared. HER DEATH RATTLE SUMMONS THE REAPER.A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows. Could this be death? Not very creative, but she wouldn't complain. Death incarnate knelt beside her; he clutched a bouquet of withering flowers."BABETTE VALENTINE, WILL YOU MARRY ME?"She tried to smile and accept the bouquet, but her leaden limbs would not move. A stream of white text spilled from Babette's mouth."I WILL! I WILL! OH, DARLING, YOU'VE MADE ME THE HAPPIEST CORPSE IN THE WORLD!"The nightmare faded to black.Babette's reality came into focus...
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