âaverage writer writes 3 books a year" factoid actualy just statistical error. average person writes 1 book per year. Steven King, who lives in cave & writes over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted
âOne night Byron repeated the lines of Coleridgeâs Christabel (a poem Byron had persuaded Murray to publish), describing the witchâs breast: âHideous, deformed, and pale of hueâ. Byron had an enormous dramatic gift, and this time his chilling tones were more than effective. Shelley ran shrieking from the room, reviving only after they threw cold water on him. He described how he had imagined a woman whose breasts had eyes instead of nipples.â
Itâs been a sideblog to my personal.... which I almost never use... so Iâm gonna be moving this blog over to where Iâm actually active. Gonna try to get the same name for it. Will post a link in a bit. This location will be an archive I guess.
After the move Iâm gonna try to:
Be more active
Take requests
Participate in Sinday :D
Post derpy drawings having to do with what I post if I actually... draw things??
Either pre-Entity or all human or whatever, but Evan MacMillan, while trying to repair the physical and PR damage to his familyâs mine in the wake of a *mysterious* accident that kills off much of his workforce, hires an accountant.
Aka: Accounting work isnât what David really wanted to do with his life, but he canât continue his rugby career after his attack against a referee and fallout with some very dangerous people he once collected debts for left him needing to get out of London. David settled into his new life in the states more or less. His only complaint would be that his boss seems to be much too interested in his flatmate.
AAKA: Dwight honestly doesnât understand why David and Davidâs unsettling boss seem to have a competition for which of them could be the first to give Dwight a heart attack.
Summary: Dwight and David are together. The Entity is pleased
Word Count: 1176
<<First <<Previous ---
Everything seemed different. Dwight was not sure he could describe it. The mist still hung in the air, the moonlight still shined down from the sky. Everything looked as derelict as anything in the Entityâs realm every did, but there was something unmistakably different about it all. Dwight no longer felt the innate worry that he normally did. There were no prickles down his spine. He knew that nothing around was a threat. He was the one to fear. It was a strange sensation, but one he welcomed.
Five generators before the gates were able to open. Four healthy survivors. The knowledge sat in Dwightâs mind. He even knew which survivors. Jake, Nea, Claudette, Anna. Beyond the names Dwight could only remember a few disjointed facts.
Quiet, disables hooks, empathetic, loner. His friends. Split up- distraction, hooks and generators, distraction and first aid, generators. He could remember all the times he was left to die better than anything else. Those were not his friends. They were his targets. He needed them dead.
They never deserved you, David growled low in his throat, but the words didnât come from his mouth. Somehow Dwight just knew them with the same certainty he knew his own thoughts. Gonna kill âem all.
Dwight grinned. Yes. Weâll kill them all.
David began to walk, not having much of a set direction just yet. Heâd find a survivors or a generator or something sooner or later. Dwight moved in step with David, just behind him. It felt second-nature to do so. He didnât even panic when he started sinking into the ground. It felt natural somehow to let himself go lower and lower until he was in a strange kind of shadowform behind David.
----
It took a bit of time to find any of the survivors, but David decided that it was worth the wait. He found the girl, Nea, first. David and Dwight both knew what she was doing, but that did not stop them from deciding that she would make a good first target. If she wanted to distract them to buy the others time, then so be it. She could be the first to die.
David chased Nea, steadily catching up to her. He pulled his fist back, ready to drive the spikes protruding from his knuckles into her skin and watch her bleed. Before he could attack her she threw a wooden pallet in his path to block him. David had to stop to destroy the obstruction. Davidâs shadow did not.
Dwight continued forward at the same pace David had been moving. He rose up from the ground and attacked Nea, mirroring the punch David had been about to deliver the same way heâd been mirroring Davidâs steps up until that point. Nea, shocked by the sudden appearance of Dwight, was caught unprepared and shrieked as shadow-spikes drove into her skin. Dwight pulled his fist back and looked down at the spikes. A grin sliced itself across his features at the blood that dripped from his fist. He didnât even care that Nea began to limp away.
David was distracted for a moment, entranced by the scene before him. Dwight stood before him, but this was not the nervous wreck he had seen before. This Dwight had a type of manic joy to him. Sharp teeth stood out a bright white, starkly contrasting to the shadow form he took for the trial. Barbs jutted out from his knuckles, similar to Davidâs. Blood dripped from his fist, the first of the match. The first heâd ever drawn in violence. His eyes glowed as though the moon were trapped behind them. They were fixed on the blood. With an excited giggle Dwight lifted his hand. He slowly ran his tongue over the spike, savoring the taste. David realized then and there that everything he had gone through was worth it for that one moment. For that sight. For Dwight realizing that he was not something weak or useless to be sacrificed or used. He was a predator and he deserved all the fear that the survivors felt. All the respect and awe David felt for him.
The Entity urged the pair on. They could not afford to be distracted. They would have time to admire each other later. They had a job to do.
David stomped on the pallet until it was crushed under his boot. Then he continued on. He walked through Dwight and it sent a shiver running down both their spines. Dwight fell in step behind David again, sinking into the ground to become his shadow once more. They moved through the parody of reality in search for the survivor who had gotten away. They followed a trail of blood and glowing red scratch marks.
----
The Entity was pleased with this upgrade to the Scrapper. They had hooked Nea, then they attacked Claudette when she tried to save the other woman. Whenever a survivor thought they had done something to slow David down and get away, Dwight would be there rising up from the ground to attack. The two worked together perfectly, each strengthened by the other. Claudette was taken to the basement. Nea was rescued by Jake, and then re-hooked. Jake was taken down and placed on a hook as well. Anna worked on generators and did not bother attempting to rescue the others. It meant that, with all three hooked, there was no one to save them from the Entity. It also meant that, when David assaulted Anna and then heft her over his shoulder, there was no one to save her, either. She screamed when he forced her onto the hook.
The Entity got four sacrifices that trial and David and Dwight were able to return to the sanctuary the Entity made for them when they were not being used in a Trial. David stalked through the mist, a familiar sensation of going from one part of the realm to another passing over him. Dwight walked behind him, slowly climbing out of the shadows. By the time they had reached their destination, Dwight looked almost normal.
He had pupils and irises again, though they had gone from brown to ruby. His teeth were still sharp, but they seemed smaller now. Retracted slightly. Delicate. His hair was a mess, but David liked the look. It suited his feral grin. The spikes that stuck out of Dwightâs knuckles were gone. He was himself, no longer shadowing David. At the ends of his hands were little claws. He was magnificent.
David growled, a low, pleased rumble from his chest. He wrapped his arms around Dwight and pulled him close. Dwight deserved to be strong and confident. He deserved to bring pain on anyone who doubted him or used him. He deserved to feel warmth and love spread outward from his heart to his entire body every time he saw David. He deserved the love and adoration David felt for him. Their lips met and, in that moment, both decided that they would never leave each other again.
Full offense but your writing style is for you and nobody else. Use the words you want to use; play with language, experiment, use said, use adverbs, use âunrealisticâ writing patterns, slap words you donât even know are words on the page. Language is a sandbox and you, as the author, are at liberty to shape it however you wish. Build castles. Build a hovel. Build a mountain on a mountain or make a tiny cottage on a hill. Whatever it is you want to do. Write.
Summary: Thomas and Jonathan consumate their relationship. Attempt to. Kind of. Ish. Jonathan doesnât know how to repair a microwave and heâd never answer a door in a towel.
Word Count: 729
@thomas-schiff because it was funny.
Interest in patients was something that Jonathan could have lost his licence to practice over if he hadnât already lost it for the small matter of using other patients in his tender, loving care at Arkham in his fear experiments, and for kidnapping Gothamites off the street to use in his fear experiments. Turns out the psychological community had very closed minds when it came to his type of work. So did the GCPD. And the Batman. The only good point to anything was that he, technically, was not his patientâs therapist anymore, which meant that, technically, Jonathan could pursue a less than professional relationship with Thomas.
It had been a long time coming, really. Schiff was amusing, charming, and smart. The only downside was that he worked for Joker, but Jonathan could hardly hold that against him. The Joker tended to attract minds like Thomas. It hardly got in the way of Jonathanâs interests. After a while of therapy, some flirting-- more on Thomasâs end, as Jonathan was absolutely horrible at flirting-- and a couple dinner dates that could have been best described as Thomas making sure Jonathan actually ate something, it seemed their relationship was getting to something more serious.
Jonathan was not against taking things further than they had gone, but he had not done much of anything to initiate coitus. Until it became apparent to him that that was something Thomas wanted, Jonathan did not even consider it a possibility. Only Joker suddenly contacting Thomas gave Jonathan any bit of time to prepare. To study. Schiff had left with a quip about resuming later and Jonathan was left scrambling for anything that may help with his issue.
By the time Thomas returned, Jonathan felt well enough prepared. That Thomas was still in the cat suit he wore while on jobs actually helped things. Jonathan had to admit that it looked very good on Schiff, and Thomas seemed eager to pick up where they left off.
Things did not exactly go to plan.
Jonathan ended up sitting stiffly on Thomasâs bed with the half-naked form of his former patient in his lap. It was not uninteresting, but none of what Jonathan had seen on the internet prepared him for a moment like that.
Noticing Jonathanâs lack of involvement, Thomas leaned back enough to ask, âWhatâs wrong?â There was a panic to it; things in Schiffâs head whispering unpleasant things and a need for approval that was not being met.
âNothing,â Jonathan forced out. He told himself he was not blushing because the Master of Fear (tm) did not blush. His cheeks were red because he wanted them to. For reasons. Unrelated reasons. Crane tried to explain in a way that would not get either of them physically hurt in the aftermath, âI would like to sex with you, but the video did not cover this situation. Am I supposed to be the repairman in this situation, or the man who has answered the door in nothing but a towel? Both of us are wearing pants and I doubt either can properly fix a microwave. This is not how any of this is supposed to work.â
There was a moment of silence as Schiff just stared at Jonathan. Jonathan stared back, fulling expecting Thomas to either realize what was wrong with the situation, or to let Crane know which of them was supposed to be bent over a kitchen counter and which was supposed to be pulling hair and making lewd remarks. Instead of anything Jonathan was expecting, a grin grew on Thomasâs face. Then came laughter.
So much laughter.
It made Jonathan frown.
Thomas continued to cackle. He hugged Jonathan tightly and laughed for a couple minutes straight. The laughter did not subside completely, but it did die down enough for Schiff to ask, âAre you serious? Did you just... I canât believe this...â He had to take a few deep breaths enough to say, âYouâve never done this before.â
âOf course not,â Crane huffed.
The pie-maker nodded, still tittering, âAnd Iâll bet you watched a porno while I was gone.â
Jonathan rolled his eyes, âI was hardly going to go into this unprepared!â
That threw Thomas into another fit of laughter. He was not sure whether to choke Jonathan or kiss him. Or both. Heâd decided when he could stop laughing long enough to breath again.
Ana had grown up relying on only herself; she felt no obligation to tear away from the larger goal of escaping for his sake. She would not have expected any different if their roles were reversed.
Jake paused in his work and looked in Dwightâs direction. It would be a risk to head towards him, but Jake knew that Dwight would risk being sacrificed for him. He finished up the hook he'd started and then crept towards the scream.
Nea and Claudette looked at each other. Claudette was obviously worried. She was too empathetic for her own good as far as Nea was concerned. Neither had to speak to establish that Claudette was going to try to help the nervous leader. Nea would have let get go alone if it weren't for the fact that she'd been stuck in the Entityâs realm for far too long. She'd been saved by the others and she'd saved them in return. They were all stuck in Hell together. A nod was shared between the two and they headed towards the scream.
Jake was the first to find the bloody trap, no longer clamped on Dwightâs leg and not much of a threat anymore. That meant this was a Trapper match. Knowing the killer made things easier. The survivors could plan around what they knew.
None of the hooks he had passed showed any sign of being used. The Entity hadn't been summoned. Either Dwight had managed to get away or the Trapper was toying with the survivor. Both were equally plausible. Jake frowned and scanned his surroundings, looking for anything that could tell him what had happened. Only a fairly clear trail of tall, trampled grass spotted with blood remained. It gave Jake a direction, but not much else.
âBear trap?â Neaâs voice surprised Jake, making him jump. Few people could sneak up on him; she was one of them. âI don't get it; usually it doesn't take this long for him to find one of us. I've never had an easy trial with that freak.â
Jake nodded, âDoesn't make sense.â
Claudette snuck up to them, not quite as quiet or quick as Nea, âSo what happened? I usually feel it when someone gets hooked, but that hasn't happened. Did Dwight get away?â
Jake shook his head, âPossible. We split up.â
âThat's stupid,â Nea snorted. âPretty clear which way he ran. C'mon.â She nodded towards the trail of blood.
They followed, but not directly. The group crept along in the trees to the side of the trail, just in case. The Trapper had never been above using human bait to get them emotional and making mistakes. They all expected to see him patrolling or find some evidence of Dwight being hooked. There was none. It was either a very good or very bad sign.
Eventually they had to stop. The trail continued, but the trees suddenly cut off. A field stretched out into the mist that thickened into the distance, obscuring their view and giving the illusion the field went on forever. It was a part of the map none of them had ever seen before. At the edge of the mist stood the Trapper. Still. Silent. Waiting. He was just outside of his terror radius. There was no way to go further and not be seen. They should have been able to see Dwight, but he didn't seem to be there.
âMaybe he's down in the grass, crawling around hurt?â Nea craned her neck as though that might help her. It didn't.
Claudette shook her head, âIâd know. He isn't that hurt.â
Jake frowned. What the Hell was the Trapper doing? This trial got stranger by the minute.
----
âDavid?â Saying it a second time did not make seeing the Scrapper, seeing David any less surprising to Dwight. He gulped and tried to wrap his head around the fact that David was back. David saved him. David was a killer. David was going to kill him.
Dwightâs heart broke. He had thought about what heâd do if he ever saw David again. He had imagined them being happy together in a cozy house. After realizing he was trapped forever Dwight had imagined David showing up at the campfire and that would make everything bearable. Knowing that things had to end up with David against him shattered something in Dwight. He looked down at the ground, as if not looking would make it easier. Tears stung his eyes.
He felt sick. Tired. Broken.
David stared down at the small figure of the survivor. At Dwight. His reason for being there in the dark reality the Entity had created. He could hear the voice of -his master- the Entity in his head. Sometimes it was maddening whispers. Other times it was more like images or feelings being forced into him. This time it was instructions. David was useful, but there was room for improvements. Something to help in the chase that would both calm David's lingering instincts to fight the Entity and Dwightâs diminished hope. These instructions that furthered David's goals, he would follow them readily.
The killer knelt on the grass, still much larger than Dwightâs huddled frame, and reached out. Gently as he could David pressed a finger under Dwightâs chin and lifted, forcing Dwight to look at him. Talking was near impossible for killers. There was little need for them to use words anymore; their purpose hardly called for it and their interactions with each other or the Entity could be facilitated with primitive sounds and sometimes gestures. He forced words out for Dwight.
âI've told ya,â His voice was a deep rumble, familiar yet so different from what it had once been. âDonât want you afraid of me.â He wanted to say more. He wanted to express how he felt. Talking was so hard.
Dwight shook slightly. He cried and stared back at David. He wasn't afraid. He was so many things, but not afraid. It might've been easier out he could be scared, but this was David.
âI'm not scared,â It was meant to sound aggressive, but the crying and trembling and quiver in Dwightâs voice foiled that, âI'm tired of dying all the time and I'm sick of missing you and I'm mad you're here, but you're gonna kill me! I'm angry you left me and I ended up here! I fell in love with you and then you left! And nowâŠâ His shoulders slumped. He sniffled. He admitted sadly, âI wished you'd show up. I prayed to that spider freak that controls this place for you. I promised I'd let myself be sacrificed more, or I'd help the killer win; I offered to die for good if it meant at least seeing you again, but I didn't think it'd make you kill me. I guess I'm mad at myself. Iâm sorry you're here because of me.â
David felt as protective of Dwight as he did that night he punched that bastard out for saying the pizza boy didn't deserve a tip. He stood up, brushing his callused fingers along Dwightâs chin as he did so. âNah. Won't kill you.â Every word was a struggle, but it was worth it. He held his hand out, âMight âurt at first, but us. Together. You and me, Dwight?â
Dwight reached out. As his hand grew close dark spines grew from David's palm, reaching out for Dwight. Dwight pulled back. David made a noise like a whine that left his throat involuntarily. Dwight took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and took David's hand.
The pain was sharp and immediate when Dwight drive his hands onto the needle-like spines. They stabbed into him, but didn't not go all the way through. Instead it felt like they ran up his arm and through his body, infighting every nerve with a burst of heat and agony that felt worse than any sacrifice he'd gone through before. Vaguely he was aware of David's fingers that curled around his hand and the soft, comforting sounds David tried to give. Then there was another rush, ice chasing the fire and leaving Dwight freezing as blackness closed in around him.
For a moment he felt like he was drifting. Nothing solid underfoot. Only the hand holding him kept Dwight from drifting away. Dwight was pulled in by that grip. He allowed himself to be taken closer. He tried wrapping his arms around the figure. Slowly, things came back. Strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him tethered. Dark whispers slithered through his mind. He got what he wanted. He accepted the offer. The price would be paid in blood, but not his. The survivors.
Dwight opened his eyes to find David, still broader and taller than Dwight, smiling proudly at him. Dwight smiled back. They would stay together, Dwight knew. Maybe it was not quite the way Dwight had imagined, but still. It was enough. He leaned in and pressed his lips to David's and they shared the kiss both had dreamt about for years.
----
A gust of wind and darkness burst from the mist behind the Trapper. The survivors had to cover their faces from the wind. When things calmed and the shadow receded they flood themselves on a completely different map. It looked like some kind of twisted nightmare forest with trees that stretched up into infinity and bare branches reaching down at them like skeletal hands. The Trapper was gone. So was the field.
âWhat the Fuck?â Nea hissed.
Claudette scooted a little closer to the other two. Her voice was small, scared, âI don't think Dwight is coming back, guys.â
Either pre-Entity or all human or whatever, but Evan MacMillan, while trying to repair the physical and PR damage to his family's mine in the wake of a *mysterious* accident that kills off much of his workforce, hires an accountant.
Aka: Accounting work isn't what David really wanted to do with his life, but he can't continue his rugby career after his attack against a referee and fallout with some very dangerous people he once collected debts for left him needing to get out of London. David settled into his new life in the states more or less. His only complaint would be that his boss seems to be much too interested in his flatmate.
AAKA: Dwight honestly doesn't understand why David and David's unsettling boss seem to have a competition for which of them could be the first to give Dwight a heart attack.
One more day of writing a few words, crying âmy precious babies I just want you to be happyâ and then deleting everything because IN THE ENTITYâS REALM CAN YOU EVER REALLY BE HAPPY???
Summary: Five survivors in one trial and Dwightâs the one unlucky enough to be the obsession.
Word Count: 2836
<<First <<Previous Next>>
âSee? Not so scary up âere once you climb out.â Davidâs smile was contagious despite Dwight being pretty sure that if anyone was going to fall off the roof and die it would be him. David probably realized the nervous man was still scared; he wrapped his arms around Dwight and pulled the smaller man closer. Secure. âIâm not lettinâ you fall.â
Dwightâs first instinct was to pull away; he did not have good experiences with being held. It was never something soft and gentle and comforting. Even as a child the only time anyone wrapped their arms around him was to hold him so that other people could get him, or to carry him off and throw him or something that would ultimately lead in him feeling scared, hurt, or both. If he pulled away on the room there was a chance he could end up falling. Or, worse, he could start to fall and then David tries to stop that from happening and they both end up getting hurt. Dwight had to take a deep breath and force himself to not pull away.
He even began to relax after a moment. This was David, who could clearly floor someone with a punch, but had never made any indication that heâd want to hurt Dwight. The pizza boy took another deep, calming breath and nodded, âYou wonât let me fall; got it. Iâd feel better if we were inside where there wasnât a death-drop.â
David laughed, âThis fall ainât gonna kill ya.â
âFine, bone-breaking drop,â Dwight huffed.
David rolled his eyes, âBroken bones ainât so bad. Look up; this is worth it.â
Tearing his eyes away from the edge of the roof and the bone-breaking drop took effort, but when Dwight was able to do so and looked up like he had been told he realized that it really was worth it. Above them was a cloudless expanse of star-filled sky. Even though they werenât really that much closer compared to ground level, it felt closer. Dwight felt like he could reach up and pluck a star out of the sky.
He tried and it earned a laugh from David. It was Dwightâs favorite part of that night. Second favorite part. They would talk a little bit more, Dwight could settle against David and actually relax. They shared stories about childhood; their parents. Davidâs anger issues. Dwightâs self-esteem issues. Davidâs drinking. Dwightâs night terrors. David would shift them so that they could lean in and Dwight could get his first and only--
----
The Entity was cruel. Dwight thought that when he was hanging from a hook or running from his life from some killer or other, but he especially thought it when heâd get to dream something from before he was stuck going between trials and the campfire and then wake up before the best part. No one really knew what it was that Dwight dreamed about. They never really cared to ask; there were more important things to worry about. Everyone knew when he had a good dream, though. Instead of him thrashing and groaning and sometimes screaming he would look peaceful. Happy. Then he would wake up and remember how far away that dream really was and his shoulders would slump.
No one really knew what happened when someone lost hope. That was the running theory about why they were all there and why dying never made anyone actually stay dead. Maybe the Entity needed their hope? Maybe the Entity was just entertained by it and this was all a big game? Either way, no one really knew what happened when someone lost hope, or their entertainment value, or whatever it was that kept them stuck in their loop of life, fear, death, rinse and repeat. No one really said it out loud, but out of everyone Dwight seemed like he would be the first to find out.
He wanted to survive. He was not shy about telling everyone that helping them was the best way to save his own life, but there was something about him. No one asked about that, either. They probably did not have to. Dwight did not always feel like he deserved to live. He often took greater risks than he had to to save others. When escaping would be the easy way out, but staying back put him at risk. He would stay back every time. He would try to make sure everyone else had a chance to get out. He would try to save them. They were all so great and could do so much, and Dwight was just Dwight. He had never had any great talents. He had never had a supportive family or many friends. In the Entityâs realm he did not have much of anything at all. He was friendly with the other survivors, but he was awkward and shy and had a hard time getting to know them. Jake was closed off. Claudette was awkward and shy. Feng Min was-- Dwight could easily name ten times she had left him to die in order to save herself. She did not even hesitate. He hadnât really made friends.
Dwight would have continued to dwell on his situation or maybe he wouldâve tried to drop it from his mind and instead watch the other survivors in the hopes that there would be an opportunity for him to join the in conversation and actually make friends; he did not get the chance to do either. The feeling of the Entity clawing up from the bottoms of his feet through his body and into his brain was is warning about another trial. It was a feeling he had gone through before, but that hardly made the pain easier. It was like a preview of what would come if he was sacrificed. It was good motivation to get the gens done and escape instead of just giving up and letting himself be taken. The game was probably no fun to the Entity when the survivors stopped trying.
The campfire faded and Dwight felt the sensation of freefall. When his feet touched dirt he found himself at the MacMillan estate. It was the very first map heâd ever been in, which did not bring up pleasant memories. A quick look around revealed that Dwight was with Nea, Claudette, Ana, and Jake. He did a double-take, looking from one face to the other. He counted them three times. That was not normal. Not normal usually meant not good.
âThe Hell?â Nea seemed to share Dwightâs confusion. âFive of us?â
Jake did not look nearly as rattled by the events. âMaybe we can get things done faster.â
âOr maybe this is some kind of bad omen?â Dwight said. He looked around, half expecting to see something horrible jump out at them. Nothing did.
Ana sometimes tried to communicate with the survivors around her. She did not seem to have any interest in it this time and instead left the group. She was efficient, but was not exactly a team player. Dwight was always a little weirded out by her, but she was in as bad a situation as any of them and did not deserve to have fellow survivors treat her poorly. The Killers were awfully enough as it was.
âSheâs probably going to go start on gens. I think the best we can do is split into pairs. Iâll go with Jake, we can work faster together. Nea--â
âDecoy duty,â Nea said flatly, âI know. Pop up, get attention, then hide and distance myself. Pop up again, keep the Killy running around so you donât get killed.â
Claudette gave Dwight a small, encouraging smile, âIâll make sure she gets patched up if anything happens.â
Dwight nodded, âGreat. Letâs go, then.â
It was good that everyone had settled into what they were doing. Sometimes it worked, sometimes the killers figured it out and the decoy was ignored in favor of patrolling generators. They would try what they could and change things up if they really needed to. Dwight was fully prepared to abandon the generator and distract the killer if Nea wasnât able to.
It was less good that Dwight felt kind of useless. He was never the best leader, but that was his thing. Without that he was just the extra survivor. Purposeless. He sighed and shook his head, trying not to think about it. Luckily Jake did not seem to notice Dwightâs inner struggle. Or, if he did notice, he did not say anything about it. Dwight appreciated it.
Things went well for a bit. Ana must have gotten a generator done on her own. Nea and Claudette did not seem to be in much trouble. Jake and Dwight got two more generators. Things were going suspiciously well. Dwight wanted to take that as a sign that they would finish up and get out quick, but he had a sinking feeling about the situation. Something seemed off. He glanced around, not sure what he should be looking out for. He hadnât heard the Nurseâs scream, or the Wraithâs bell. There had been no giggling or electrocutions. No chainsaws revving. That only left the Shape, the Trapper, or the newest one. The Scrapper. Dwight hadnât actually been in a trial with that one and, from what he heard, he hoped he never would be.
âIâm gonna take care of some hooks.â Jakeâs voice startled Dwight. âBetter safe than sorry.â
Dwight nodded. Normally he would not want to have anyone going alone, but things had been quiet. Easy. He decided to find a generator to help things alone while Jake dismantled the hooks. Only two more and they would be ready to open the gates and run back to the safety of the campfire. If five-person groups became the norm, Dwight would not complain.
Not long after that the fourth generator was fixed. Dwight was relieved. Still no screams of pain. Still nothing to clue him in on who they were facing. He found a generator and began to sneak towards it. Maybe theyâd get through just fine. Maybe there was no killer and the Entity was just toying with them. Seeing what they would do. He hoped not. He had a very clear image in his mind of the Entity as something dark and terrifying; adding a sense of humor to that did not blend well with the rest of that mental picture.
Dwight got his first clue about who they were up against when he made the mistake of stepping in a bear trap. The scream that tore from his throat as the metal dug into his legs was sure to let the Trapper know where he was. Dwight gulped and looked around. No big, scary murderer had emerged from the fog. That was good. He tried to undo the contraption, failing a few times before actually getting it. His leg throbbed with pain. Every step aggravated that feeling. He was sure he left a trail of blood on the ground.
He decided against heading for the generator. Since he was pretty sure he had the killerâs attention it seemed best to stay away from the one thing the survivors really needed to be around. He picked a direction and ran as fast as he could on his wounded leg. It did not take long for the telling sound of his head beating desperately in his ears. The Trapper had found him and was close. Knowing Dwightâs luck he was probably the obsession. It made sense; if the Trapper was focused on finding and killing him it might not have bothered as much with Nea.
The Trapper growled behind him, getting closer. Dwightâs heart beat so fast he thought it might burst from his chest. His feet pounded against the ground despite the horrible pain in his leg. His steps were out of time with the heavy footfalls behind him. Around him were crows, their caws reminding him of the mocking jeers of bullies that heâd dealt with all his life. Dwight was not sure how much longer he could continue. He ran as hard as he could, but he was not going fast enough. He closed his eyes, steeling himself for the blow. The sacrifice. If he was lucky there would not be any useful hooks in the area. Or maybe someone would be able to pull him off before the Entity came.
Closing his eyes had been stupid, but Dwight never liked seeing the end coming. His mistake was made more apparent when he ran into what had to be some kind of wall. It was sturdy and did not move when Dwight smacked into it. The nervous leader fell back onto the ground and flinched in on himself. He knew this was it.
The cleaver that Dwight had expected never came. There was no sharp, stinging pain of the rusted tool ripping into his flesh. Instead the wall Dwight had bumped into growled back at his pursuer. There was a tense moment of animalistic noises above Dwight. Growling. Dwight curled further in on himself and covered his head with his hands, as though that would help. It felt familiar, somehow. Not really in a good way. There was a roar above him.
Dwight was caught between wanting to see his savior and being too scared to look. What if the thing was only chasing the Trapper off so it could have Dwight sacrifice? What if this was not a savoire, but a new predator to fear?
He had never heard of two killers in one trial, but he hadnât really heard of five survivors, either. Maybe it was because he had lost hope. Maybe the Entity realized he was useless. Maybe this was what happened; some mystery killer appeared and dragged the hopeless into the shadows. Dwight did not want that. He was not sure he could take any more pain. His body shook as he held back tears. He didnât want this. He never wanted this.
The Trapper grumbled low in his throat. He hissed. Dwight almost hoped the Trapper would win. At least he knew what would happen after the hook. It was better than the mystery horror that awaited him. He looked back and peeked an eye open. Dwight opened his mouth to tell the Trapper to take him. That he wasnât hopeless. That he didnât want whatever was coming. No coherent words came out. Just a pitiful sob. The Trapperâs head tilted, his attention shifting down towards Dwight. He raised his cleaver and brought it down. Dwight flinched, as ready as heâd ever be for the blow.
The new killer reached out, blocking Dwight. The cleaver dug into its arm, only stopping when it hit bone. The new killer grunted; whether it was in pain or some kind of response to the Trapper, Dwight did not know. The Trapper tugged his weapon out of the other killerâs arm. He hissed again. The other killer roared. The Trapper snorted and cleaned his cleaver off on his arm, then turned and left. For the first time in his life Dwight was upset to see the Trapper go. He was left with the new killer and the possibility that heâd never end up at the campfire again. Maybe heâd die for real. Maybe it was something worse than that. He hoped not. He really hoped not.
Slowly Dwight turned his head to at the thing that stopped his usual tormentor. He could not quite make out what he was seeing. It was as though his eyes could see the killer, but his brain refused to make sense of it, keeping it hidden. Like it was too horrible to recognize. The figure was larger than him, much larger. Broad shoulders. Powerful. It was dressed almost normal. Dark jeans stained with old blood. Heavy boots. His torso was bandaged. Bloodied. His hands were wrapped like a fighterâs up to his elbows. At first Dwight thought he was wearing brass knuckles. Then he realized the metal was not worn over the wrapping. It was bursting through it, as though bone had been forced out and then somehow hardened to metal. Some kind of tattoo, dark with flecks of light that reminded Dwight of a survivor just before the Entity accepted the sacrifice, slithered up from the arm wrappings on one side. It stretched up to the killerâs neck and formed into a rose.
The killerâs face had a full beard. His nose was crooked, having been broken one too many times. His teeth as he grinned down at Dwight were sharp, more like a woflâs grin than a humanâs. His eyes were what struck Dwight as being the most familiar. He had seen them before. Dwightâs throat went dry as realization hit him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He closed it. Tried to swallow. Tried to speak again. It took two more tries before he could force out a single, shocked word.
