Stories / Writing

Rock Bottom

200_sThings were beginning to get a little strange and out of hand the last time we saw Anon. The Gary Busey GIFs have all disappeared, but new, darker, things have risen to take their place. What began as a light-hearted attempt to improve the day at the office spiraled out of control and became a dark and ugly thing. I hope you’ve enjoyed the story and the transformation it has gone through thus far, and now I hope you enjoy the conclusion.

 

 

 

Day ??:

I’ve decided that tracking days is useless now. It is impossible to know how often I drift in an out of reality and how long I spend in each realm. I have begun to wonder if, perhaps, what I perceive as fantasy and what I perceive as fiction are one and the same? Despite this I find myself filled with a renewed sense of purpose. I spent the morning exploring the huge chamber that I awoke in yesterday, there are fourteen monolithic statues in all, each depicting a different figure. Some look oddly human, others are so alien and utterly repulsive that I find them disturbing, but I find myself compelled to look upon these. Their surfaces seem to ripple and undulate, as if they contained living flesh within.

Day ??:

I spent the entire day yesterday exploring the large cavernous room, studying each of the fourteen statues within it.  One of the statues holds my interest above all the others, and it is by far the most repulsive and foreign to me. While I can find some similarities between the human form and all the other statues, this one has none. I have not eaten since fleeing from the curmudgeons, but I am not hungry. While this is curious, it is of little importance when placed next to the statue that stands before me. I must spend more time studying the statue.

Day ??:

Even though I no longer experience hunger, I still thirst. In what I believed was good fortune, I found a shallow pool of dark water in a chamber not far from the statue hall. I drank my fill and then scrubbed as much filth off my body as I could. The cold water stung my face, and took on a pink hue as it ran from my gaunt flesh. I looked into the pool seeking my reflection, and I found the face of a madman staring back at me. Strange markings composed of swooping lines and thick blocks had been carved into his flesh. A loud crack shattered the silence of the room and my head threatened to split in two. The room shook around me, memories violently resurfacing. I etched these symbols into my face with my own hands. For a long time after this realization I could do little other than stare down at my broken nails, my own blood caked beneath them. I was the madman in the pool.

Day ??:

Sometime after my revelation I returned to the statue hall and found the hall to be cast in a new, strange light. All the statues now had burning symbols on some part of their anatomy. The one prize I have gained in this hell hole, the ring, ignited an agonizing fiery pain that shot up my arm and snaked through my entire being. I tried desperately to claw it from my finger, but it held fast. I think one of the statues actually turned its head to look at me; the pain that now possesses me makes knowing an impossible thing. The whispers in my head have become constant screams and I see the statues in my sleep, but they are no longer statues. They all look upon me with demanding black eyes filled with horrible flames, calling for that which I cannot give.

Day ??:

I’m not sure how many hours I’ve been awake, trying to avoid the smoldering demands of the fourteen. I find myself lost, somewhere between the realms of sleep and dementia. Once again I found myself in sun dappled fields. The light burned and the cloying scent of flowers hung in my throat and choked me. I wanted little more then to return to the protective darkness of my tunnels, even though I knew that the fourteen awaited me. I did not need to wait long. Soon the darkness wrapped me again. There was something rough and wet in my hands, and my knees pressed heavily against pebbled flesh. My arms burned with exhaustion and my shoulders heaved as I sucked in the dank cave air.  The curmudgeon queen lay beneath me, a barely recognizable lump of pulverized and bloody flesh. A large number of her ilk were crumpled on the floor in a similar state. My body no longer burned with pain. I looked to my hand and no longer saw that hateful glint of gold wrapping my finger. The ring was gone and I was free!

Day ??:

I danced over the queen’s dead corpse. With her and her kind dead, the tunnels were finally cleansed of their filthy kind, just as the fourteen had commanded. And I was free from the constant burning torment of the ring! My actions must have pleased the fourteen. Full of vim and vigor, I made my way back into the depths of the mountain.  Navigating the tunnels twists and turns had become second nature to me; I no longer needed to feel along the walls in order to find the correct tunnels. It was only a short while before I arrived back where I knew the statue hall to be. Shimmying through its familiar, narrow entrance, I rolled into the giant underground room. No monoliths lined the walls. The fourteen were not here. Certain that, in my glee, I had taken a wrong turn I decided to return to the curmudgeon’s lair and retrace my steps to the statue hall. I wanted to gaze upon the queen’s corpse one last time, to look upon the good work I had done anyways.

Finding my way back to the curmudgeon’s lair was easy.  I found their queen with even further ease, but something about her form was wrong. Instead of being fat and sturdy she looked thin…almost fragile. Curious, I surveyed the whole room. All the curmudgeons looked wrong; they were all too thin and fragile looking, they almost looked…human, not at all like the monsters I remembered. It mattered little either way. I had cleansed the tunnels, just as the fourteen had asked of me. I had made the mountain mine.

<The writing quickly degenerates into wild scribbles of a mad man, eventually transitioning to strange figures and symbols roughly scratched into the paper. All the pages are torn and smeared with mud, dirt, and what you assume to be blood.>

 

I hope that you enjoyed my exercise in on-the-fly story writing, I know I had a great deal of fun writing each individual bit in the chain. Have you ever taken a mundane, stressful situation and tried to turn it into something more fantastic and enjoyable? Tell me about it in the comments below!

 

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