Random Question: Have you ever fallen in love with an imaginary character

If it’s any consolation, I whacking myself over the head for taking so long with this chapter. And to think I’d had this one planned for a long long time!! You’d think I could have gotten it out sooner! But nooo…

I shall now proceed to blame school and work. Continue on, my darlin’s, continue on. –makes shooing motions-

“Stop it,” Abyss whispered, nails digging into the wall at his back. The poor wood splintered easily, driving tiny slivers into the tips of his fingers, but he took no notice of this as the witch continued staring into his eyes, her own reflecting everything about those few days that he most wanted to forget. Saraice and Obo were no longer there; only Geralei and her bloodshot eyes.

Suddenly he was seven years old again, standing alone in his house and watching the door warily as the knocking came again. His mother had warned him not the open the door unless she was with him, especially after he’d gotten lost a few weeks ago and she’d found him wandering outside by himself, dressed in nothing but a thin, torn red shirt that he wouldn’t take off no matter how hard she insisted. He’d been bruised and beat up and had dark, ugly handprints on his shoulders where someone must had grabbed him too hard, and had an odd, ugly scar right in the middle of his belly and another between his shoulder blades. He couldn’t remember what had happened, but he couldn’t sleep at night without nightmares unless she was with him and his stomach was always hurting, and a lot of times he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking or his fingers from twitching erratically, and he didn’t know why.

The only thing he could tell his mother was that something in his head was missing.

She said she was going to take him to her friend sometime very soon.

The knocking came again, and he got a very bad feeling in his gut.

Someone was knocking on his door and his mother was at the market.

She’d left him home alone because he was too afraid to go outside.

Old man Jyyma was supposed to have come over earlier but he never showed. Knowing that old man he was still trying to make a profit by selling his old, rundown inn.

The knocking became more persistent. He didn’t know what to do now.

Then, “Honey? It’s Mommy; would you please open to door for me? My hands are full.”

Relief swept through him. Without a thought he was unlocking the door and pulling the heavy slab of wood open. He looked up to greet his mother, only to find someone entirely different standing before him.

…his mother, he remembered too late, never used endearments.

“You…” he whispered, and the old crone cackled madly before grabbing him by the neck and shoving the vial of nasty something down his throat.

He was wandering alone and lost in the dark forest, searching for anything or anyone that could help him find his way back to his mother. He had no idea where she could have gone; he thought he heard her calling for him from behind the tree line, but the moment he passed the first large tree her voice had disappeared, and turning around he could see nothing but more and more dark trees.

He’d called out for her, before, but the sound of his voice seemed to do nothing but make the silence of the forest worse, so he’d quickly stopped. It seemed to make no difference; the further he moved into the forest, the heavier the silence was, until the only sounds he could hear were those of his own footsteps and heartbeat.

He decided to make the best of it; after all, his mother would find him later, he was sure, as long as he didn’t wander off too far.

However, the longer he spent alone, the more worried he became. After nearly an hour, he began to get scared. Night was falling swiftly, deepening the shadows. Sounds he’d never heard before started up from animals he couldn’t name. Eventually, he just stopped, putting his back against the nearest tree and crouching down, hugging his knees to his chest and trying to ignore the nearby snapping of twigs and the screeches of unknown creatures.

Somehow, he fell asleep.

When he woke, it was to the sight of a pair of luminous eyes staring down at him from some creature he’d never seen before. In stature it resembled that of a monkey, but it had the coloring of a raccoon and the facial structure of a mink, and its eyes, glowing a bright red, were slit like a snake’s and unblinking and cruel and getting closer and closer as he sat frozen on the ground, too terrified to move.

It blinked, and he screamed, “MOMMY!!” He shot up and started running in a random direction, anywhere that would get him away from that strange creature. He didn’t know if he was going the right direction but he didn’t care, as long as it wasn’t towards the creature.

Then he tripped, hitting his head on something hard and knocking himself out.

When next he woke, there was a ceiling above him, made of plain, bare stone. Moving was the last thing he wanted to do, but curiosity easily got the best of him and he sat up slowly, holding a hand to his aching head as he did so. The room around him was, as far as he could tell, as bare as the ceiling but for the stone pedestal he laid on. The temperature was almost painfully cold; it must have rained at some point, for his skin and clothes were damp, and even just moving made him feel like he was in a tub of ice water.

“Weird,” he murmured, swinging his legs from the pedestal. However, as soon as his feet hit the floor the rest of him followed. His head spun sickeningly and his legs didn’t seem to want to work, barely twitching when he tried to move them. He wanted to throw up; there was a bad taste in his mouth he hadn’t noticed before, and taking a deep breath, he could taste something like rotten eggs and old petunias in the air. After that it took only seconds for his stomach to empty itself.

Afterwards, he collapsed on his side, shivering in the cold air. The dark room was not a place he wanted to be right now, not when it took all his will power to keep from crying. He was seven years old! And despite what he stubbornly and repeatedly told his mother, he did not want to be all by himself in the dark.

That’s when he heard a door opening somewhere nearby, and a small, whimpering form suddenly appeared in the room with him.

It was not what he expected.

“Noo! You bitch! Lemme out of here before I stab you in the eye with my spoons!!” a voice screamed hysterically, and he covered his ears, trying to block out the screeching and prevent the worsening of his headache. It didn’t work out too well.

“Damn you! You shall suffer my wrath! My wrath I tell you! LET ME OUT OF HERE!!”

“Shut up,” he whimpered, moving his arms to cover his entire head. His head was pounding horribly now, and that high-pitched screeching was doing nothing to help.

And just like that, the voice quieted. Now he could hear footsteps moving towards him hesitantly. He wasn’t quite sure though if he wanted to know who had been doing all that foul screaming.

Then, “Ew, you puked all over the floor! How’m I supposed to go near you now? That’s disgusting!”

It was a female voice, he realized in that moment, which explained why it was so high-pitched and aggravating. Girls were so annoying; they always wanted to play with stupid dolls and have stupid tea-parties with a bunch of fake treats and no tea. And they had cooties, and cooties were very very bad.

Though, he had to admit to himself, he’d never heard a girl speak like that.

It was slightly intimidating.

Somehow, he managed to push himself up without throwing up again and glared at the dark shape standing only a few feet away, staying carefully clear of the mess on the floor.

“It’s not my fault,” he muttered bitterly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. This did not seem to sit well with the girl either; she looked at his sleeve in disgust before turning her back to him and shuffling back the direction she’d come. The foul screeching commenced once more.

Somehow, he wasn’t quite as afraid as he was before.

--

“Grr, this is boring!” the girl growled, kicking the wall in frustration. Aby watched on silently, not saying a word in case she decided to snap at him again. She was one violent girl; even the meanest bullies in the nearby village weren’t as bad tempered as this girl.

Which was why he kept a careful distance as far across the room as he could manage as she paced restlessly along the opposite wall; he really didn’t want to hear her complain about his ‘stench’ again.

Or his whining.

Or his shortness.

Or his skin tone.

…Or his funny hair.

By now his fear was fairly well gone.

“Grr… Friggin’ BITCH!!”

“I don’t think whoever you’re yellin’ at can hear you,” he whispered finally, tired of the screaming. His head was still pounding, though luckily not as bad as before.

“I didn’t ask you, now did I, Stinky?!” was the yelled response, and he winced. He wasn’t that stinky; she certainly wasn’t any better.

More grumbles followed, but he tuned them out. Yelling wasn’t going to get them anywhere; that he knew for sure.

Fortunately for him, he didn’t have to suffer through the high-pitched yelling for much longer. A pale light suddenly began to fill the room from an unknown source, gradually bringing the entire room into clear sight.

It was…

“What the hell? Doesn’t anyone know how to decorate around here?!”

…plain. He groaned.

“A little girl such as you using such foul language,” a voice tsked, trying to sound amused, but Aby could hear a tinge of aggravation lacing the scratchy old thing. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you any manners?”

Now that he could see the girl accompanying him, Aby was even more surprised. The thing was tiny. She was at least a head shorter than his measly four feet. If not for her language, he would have guessed her to be only four, dressed in a pale, frilly blue dress and white stockings, with black dress shoes on her tiny feet. Her dark hair was in pigtails, giving off the feeling of anything but an angry, violent temper.

She glared at him furiously for a moment. Nope, definitely not four, he thought sourly, scowling. Lost in his thoughts, he’d completely forgotten about the old crone standing in a doorway he hadn’t noticed before.

“An’ who the hell are you? Old Grumpy Granny Bertha from the country? T’least that old hag has a freakin’ sense of humor. Stupid bat,” the girl grumbled sourly. Aby’s jaw dropped open silently. Looking at the old crone, the woman was terrifying! She was hunched over a dark, gnarled walking stick and her beady eyes were locked on the grumpy girl’s, dark and menacing. Her hair stuck out in strange clumps from her skull, as if she’d been electrocuted at some point and had never bothered to fix it.

Her expression read pure malice, and that was what scared him the most.

“Wh-where are we?” he spoke up timidly, speaking before the girl could begin a new tirade and make the old crone mad. He almost wished he hadn’t spoken when the crone turned her menacing gaze upon him. He felt like she was intruding upon his deepest memories, his secrets, his soul; everything that made him him. He suddenly couldn’t breathe.

She was doing something to him… His eyes were burning and he couldn’t blink, his stomach was turning, but there was nothing left to come up. His throat tightened, choking and dry, and he couldn’t breathe!

Thin, bony fingers riffling through his head, leaving scars in their wake…

Then something knocked into him from the side, and he found himself lying on the floor and staring blearily up at the small girl, who was now glaring furiously at the old crone, looking more than ready to attack like a wild animal. The crone’s gaze seemed to have no affect on her.

“What’re you…” he said weakly, trying to stand, but the girl only scowled, silently telling him to keep his mouth shut. He obeyed, too scared to do otherwise. His head was still pounding.

“Didn’t your mama ever teach you any manners?” the girl spat at the crone, planting tiny fist on her hips and striking an imposing (for a little girl anyway) pose. “Adults aren’ supposed ta pick on little babies who can’t defend hisself!”

“Hey!” Aby protested weakly, pushing himself up with the help of the wall.

“It’s true, so shut it, pansy-boy,” the girl said bluntly.

“I’m not a pansy!”

“Fine, Wuss.”

“I—”

“Enough!” the crone shouted, marching further into the room and scowling at the both of them. “I will not allow such disrespect from two whiny little brats!” And with that said, she seemed to disappear from where she stood and was suddenly right before them both, a hand on their throats, lifting them both off the ground. It wasn’t hard enough to choke them, but neither was breathing easy.

And now the girl was beginning to look scared; carefully hidden, but scared.

“Ah, but you two will be perfect, I think. Yes…” The crone’s eyes went between the two, looking pleased. The girl began to struggle violently, but Aby found himself unable to move. She was invading his head again; was she doing it to the girl? He felt his insides twist; he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat. His fingers began twitching involuntarily, arms rising slowly to grasp the crone’s arm weakly. He was sure the girl was screeching something terribly, but he couldn’t hear it, and that more than anything sent him into panic mode.

At the top of his voice, he started screaming, pitch rising with every syllable, “LEMME GO LEMME GO LEMME GO!! MOMMY!! I’LL KILL YOU YOU S-STUPID OLD HAG!! LEMME GO!! MOMMY!! I’LL GNAW ON YOUR UGLY FACE!! I’LL TEAR YOUR LIMBS FROM YOUR BLOATED BODY AND SERVE THEM AS STEW TO THE MEAN GUY AT MOMMY’S WORKPLACE!! I’LL PUKE ALL OVER YOUR STUPID HAIR PIECE!! I’LL—”

Smack! The back of his head slammed against the wall, knocking him senseless.

It seemed only seconds before his head cleared again, but it was obvious more time than that had passed. He was trussed up against the wall and his head itched terribly; the scent of blood was nearly overpowering, and behind his back , his fingers were nearly numb and twitched painfully. Something was missing inside…

There was a scream, and he forced his heavy head up to find its source, blinking to try and clear his sight.

The girl was being held down on the pedestal by seemingly nothing, but it looked like she was fighting with all her power to escape the old crone’s wobbling hands held over her head. She screamed again, as if in pain. Aby couldn’t help the whimper that escaped, but neither crone nor girl noticed, caught up as they were.

There was something wrong with his head; what did that old crone do to him? Did she do the same to the girl? She looked like she was in a lot of pain. Where did the crone go? His fingers twitched painfully.

There were colors swirling around the room dizzyingly, especially around where the old crone stood, standing over the girl. She was chanting something, whirling her arms around in circles and circles until his head hurt. She’d been doing it for hours, he remembered suddenly, endless hours and hours and all the while the girl had been silent.

No, she’d been screaming…

Where did the crone come from?

He couldn’t remember for sure.

He whimpered, burying his head in his knees.

Screaming screaming screamingtherewassomuchscreaming it wouldn’t get out of his head.

The muscles between his shoulders twitched painfully.

And suddenly the girl screamed again, a long string of profanities spilling from her lips. He looked up and could see her skin rippling oddly, almost as if it were trying to melt from her bones. The screaming turned feral, no longer recognizable as human, or even female. He watched with morbid fascination as her skin cracked and billions of tiny, thin pieces of glass fell to the floor from where her skin had once been, and some dark, fur-like substance began to take over. He couldn’t see her face, but the shape of the girl’s head seemed to lengthen outwards some, and her limbs contort oddly, seeming to shrink into themselves, the sound of cracking bones and some wet squishing taking over all other sounds. He wanted to throw up again. He wanted to stop the horrible sounds. He wanted to yell and scream and stop it all.

He knew if he dared make a sound, he would get their attention, and they would eat him alive.

He knew, suddenly, somehow, that that was why he was here. To be food to the crone’s minions, to become just like one of them. That’s why his head was messed up; that’s what he’d missed when the crone had slammed his head against the wall.

A creature had eaten the girl from the inside out; it was making her into one of them. And when it was finished with her it’d come after him.

His shoulder muscles were screaming now; he couldn’t feel his fingers any more.

Both crone and girl suddenly looked at him.

She was one of them.

He screamed.

--

Pain. PainpainpainpainPAIN! He couldn’t breathe it hurt so much. He was forced down on the pedestal and they were staring down at him, eyes gleaming cruelly, and he couldn’t breathe.

The crone held something in her hands, something small and wriggling and wormlike but not wormlike and it had sharp, gleaming teeth and it was staring at him too even though it had no eyes. It was going to touch him again and it was going to hurt again and it was trying to get inside and eat him but he wouldn’t stop squirming so it had trouble getting inside. It was trying to burrow its way in through his stomach and it had already eaten a big chunk of his skin and it burned worse than when he got his hand caught in his mother’s friend’s fireplace only his mother’s friend wasn’t going to make it better this time.

The crone was trying to make him swallow some nasty smelling potion thing again but he wouldn’t open his mouth. She was trying to make him let the ugly wiggling worm thing eat him but he didn’t want to be eaten so kept squirming.

Finally the old crone got tired of his behavior and ordered the gir- her minion to hold him still, and its long fingers gripped onto his shoulders tightly, even as its long tongue dropped from its mouth to curl almost gently around his throat, squeezing just tight enough to keep him from screaming again.

The crone hated his screaming.

He still couldn’t breathe.

The worm bit at his stomach again. Pain flashed through him, ten times worse than before, and he tried to scream, but the crone’s minion kept his voice securely locked. She tried the potion again.

He took it without complaint.

And suddenly the worm was inside.

He wouldn’t scream even if he wanted to. The feeling was so…blissful… His vocal chords didn’t want to work… He sighed and closed his eyes, almost smiling at the warm, tingling feeling moving through his belly, like a warm meal on a winter’s day, or an icy drink on a hot summer’s day. It made him feel so good; he wondered why he’d been fighting it.

Somewhere far off he could hear someone screaming, but he didn’t care; he just wanted to stay this way forever and ever, and ever…and…ev—

Pain, a different kind of pain, suddenly ripped through his body from his shoulders and the illusion was shattered. He was still screaming and the worm was halfway buried in his stomach, thriving off the blood that slowly leaked its way into its mouth. It hurt terribly, but it was nothing compared to what his back felt like. It was a pulsing, sickening throb, and the more he focused on it the worse it felt, until even the worm eating its way through him was just a distant memory, even a dream.

The crone and her minion had backed away, and he could see by the look in her eyes that this new pain was not of her doing and that she was as bewildered by it as he was.

All he could hear was a tearing, and then red filled his vision, and the next thing he knew he was falling from the top of a tree, and there were red feathers scattered all over and blood that may or may not have been his dripping from his fingers. His head and stomach and hands and back hurt terribly, and he didn’t remember a thing until the crone showed up at his home weeks later and forced the potion into him…

The crone remembered nothing but a red light and knives driving into her chest.

She still didn’t understand what happened.

No one had ever escaped her before…

She had to know what happened!

Hmm, I must have been feeling sadistic when I came up with chapter a while back… but on the bright side, I got a new kitty! Her name is Turtle!! Yes I am weird!! I’m also buying a house! School is also over!!

If there is anything confusing about this chapter, do let me know and I’ll try and fix it. ‘Try’ being the operative word here, considering I’ve been over this chapter several times and can’t think of anything else to do to it. Oh well. And I will try and have the next chapter out quicker. However, even though school is over, I am trying to buy a house and a bunch of stuff keeps cropping up, so yeah… I don’t know.

My Random Question this time around is: If you were stuck on a deserted island with no food but plenty of water, no guarantee of a rescue, and a plump rabid rabbit suddenly comes up to you and starts chatting away, talking about how it could make you rich and famous and yadda yadda, what would you say?

“Fresh meeeeeeat…”