I am trying to find an apocalyptic fiction book that I partially read a few years ago but immediately burned because it was that bad. I cannot remember the title and I'm hoping someone else may know.
I only read the first chapter before it hit my DNF list. But I do know it had a sequel since I bought and burned both at the same time. But It was hilariously poorly written and I was grossed out within those few pages.
The MMC was in his 30s, ex military (I think). Within the first few pages this MC already had the day saved; rescuing a small group of survivors, including a nun and an "exotic" 17 year old girl, from a completely overrun hospital. Somehow he manages to contact "a guy" who comes in with a helicopter to get them out.
The 17 year old girl falls asleep in the helicopter, and the MMC immediately begins lusting after her and her "perfect olive skin" to close off the chapter. The book followed him specifically, though I can't remember if it was first or third person.
I do not remember what the cover looked like but I didn't get the idea it would be like this from the cover or blurb. I bought it and it's sequel second hand for about $5 total.
I always refer to this book as a "if this bullshit was published, then I am doing just fine and will be just fine". Just as a moral boost to myself and my close writer friends whenever any of us get self conscious over our WIPs. And I would like to find another second hand copy to keep on hand as that motivation
As soon as I awoke the next morning I put on a t-shirt with a hoodie, stretchy jeans, and some tennis shoes. I made my way down to the kitchen to find an already prepared breakfast for me. It was something that I was definitely still adjusting to at the time, but I ate what was provided, I needed the extra energy for sure. After eating I went back to the library, there was something I needed.
“I need to learn how to use my magic,” I called out as I reached the table. A leather bound book appeared as I sat down. The cover read, translated, ‘Illuveterian Magic’, and the author was my father, which caused me to pause. I didn’t even know his name until I started doing research. Neither did I know my mother’s prior. Suppose that information isn’t usually handed out to small children in favor of the “mom” or “dad”.
Describing how exactly I trained my magic would be near impossible. It’s like concepts but they are tangible to a person. It certainly took many years, over many of which other things occurred. So I’ll just create a list of everything I’ve managed to learn so far, as I’m sure I’ll learn plenty more in the future.
I have learned how to teleport consistently.
I can monitor my energy levels easily.
Most recently I have figured out how to float which is quite fun
I can move my pocket dimension door as I please.
I found out that I have access to the Earth’s afterlifes and can access them as I please.
I have found a way to share my healing process with friends through soul sharing.
I can create these thorn-like spikes that jut from the ground and into whatever I please.
I can summon things from my pocket dimension and return them as needed.
I can “show off” my magic through blue flames that surround my body as well as heated fires from my body.
I can move things with thought now. I believe it’s called telekinesis.
I can look human, though only for a few hours at a time as it’s incredibly exhausting.
One I found out accidentally is if I happen to fall asleep or pass out in nature then animals seem compelled to “protect” me while I’m asleep and surround me until I wake up. That freaked me out the first time since I woke up to a cougar on top of me.
Another accidental discovery is that I can hear when anyone says my names so long as it is intended for me. Which essentially means I technically can be “summoned”, however I do have a choice on responding.
Unless I have a decent amount of food or energy drinks on me, I do have an energy limit for all of this, and some abilities are more taxing than others.
As soon as I had a basic grasp on how to use my magic, which took roughly a year and a half, making me 21 at the time, I decided to then practice hand to hand and weaponry. I went out to the void and had the pocket dimension lay out several options to choose from among the list were: Swords of varying shape, staffs, a variety of bows and arrows, hand scythes, and a couple full length scythes. I picked up one of the full length scythes. It came just short of my height and had a broad blade. Truthfully I just thought it was the coolest looking weapon of the bunch. Once I had that selected all the other close range weapons vanished and were replaced with some longer ranged options. The bows remained. So I’d be picking two to use. From the new group one particular weapon caught my eye as it was something I hadn’t seen before. A oblong piece of metal attached to a long rope. I picked that one up to examine it, but the others all vanished before I could return it. Meaning I had my two weapons: A scythe and a Meteor Hammer.
Learning to wield these was much the same as my magic, though arguably a bit easier as they didn’t take near as long. Of course working immediately with two weapons as such was also trial and error. Meaning I occasionally left practice a new, or multiple new small scars. And let me tell you, a solid chunk of tungsten hitting you in the head because you swung your arm half an inch too far to the left really hurts, and I’m lucky my bones can no longer break. About 4 years into this I felt sufficient enough in my abilities to move on. I wanted revenge.
I began my planning. There were a total of 8 men that had caused my hell. The pocket dimension gave me a newspaper that stated three of them had died in a farming accident. Unfortunate. Leaving 5 left, including that Matthew Collins. I spent a total of 12 days planning everything. I was going to take them out one by one and make sure they knew it was me. So within those days I practiced calligraphy and summoned a small scalpel. The plan with that was to carve my first initial into each of them, as fancy as possible. Just so they can feel a fraction of the pain they made me feel before they die.
I made my way to the first house. The judge. I knew he was home alone since I watched his wife leave for a “girls night” just prior. I sat outside the back door for several minutes, my pulse racing as I worked up my nerve. As I sat I thought about everything I went through because of this man’s callous decision. How much I suffered as a child for no reason because he refused to see past his own biases. A rage flooded me before it was overwhelmed with calm. Standing where I was, my face sat in a neutral expression, while anger burned beneath. My pulsed had slowed considerably and I gripped the scalpel. The scythe remained stored in the pocket dimension for the time being. The porch lights came on as I moved to the door. A small flick of magic fixed that issue and I was covered once more in darkness. It happened to be a new moon that night and the stars shown little. What was visible of my body emitted a small glow, though not near enough to illuminate anything around it. Similar to illuminated numbers on a wrist watch. Just enough to be seen and not something I could change.
The darkness did not hinder my vision in the slightest, as it is common for many creatures to have good night vision. As I came closer to the sliding back door I could see easily into the house. The judge was sat facing away from me in the living room, close to the front door. The tv was on and the volume was quite high. He had no idea I was even there.
The door slid open and closed silently. I made each step carefully forward, though he never did hear me come up behind him. One simple touch to the back of his neck and he couldn’t move anymore. Frozen where he sat. I walked around the couch slowly, his breathing increased as he finally knew of my presence. I crouched a tad to meet his eyes.
“You-!” He started, panicked. I reached forward to put a finger to his lip.
“Shh,” I whispered. And he was silent. I could see his fear grow as he tried to both speak and move. Yet neither happened. “You brought this on yourself,” I continued as I scanned his form for a location to place the calling card. I wanted to touch him as little as possible and settled on the back of his hand.
I carved a meticulously detailed ‘R’. It had more lines than I cared to admit. It took a good few minutes to complete, and by the end the judge was a silent sobbing mess. It gave me joy to see him suffering as I had. Though he had it considerably better in those minutes then I ever had it. Once I was done I took the scalpel and made eye contact with the man. I had intended to be scary by licking his blood off of the blade. Most other monster species do eat humans so I thought it may taste good. However as soon as it touched my tongue I immediately gagged. It tasted foul and if I could physically throw up, I would have in that moment.
Fortunately for me, the judge was too busy blubbering in silence to notice any of it. I stored the scalpel away in the pocket dimension and summoned my scythe. It was comfortable to hold, and I was at ease knowing what I was about to do. With one swift motion I took his head clean off. Even then I did not falter. From my pocket I took a large paint pen and wrote “CORRUPT” in large lettering on the wood coffee table. I then stood to make my leave. I had no further need to be quiet so I simply teleported to the next man’s house. I repeated the same process for the first 4 of them, aside from licking the blood. Each kill went a little smoother than the one prior. Even for the man who had shot me through the head, I was unnaturally calm.
It was at the final house where I faltered. The residence of Matthew Collins. Though my face remained neutral still and rage continued to burn throughout me, it now mixed itself with panic. I approached the door, it was an old screen that I knew would make a lot of noise. My body shook involuntarily as images of his face flashed through my mind. It seems whatever calm had controlled me before was failing. I began thinking of everything I had gone through again. Anything that he, specifically, didn’t do to me. My shaking calmed and I steadied myself. I walked around the single story farm house and peered through each window. I finally found him through one. Asleep in a bed.
Instead of going through a window or door, which I knew would immediately wake him, I chose to teleport into the room. It made much less noise, almost none, even. I didn’t want him to look at me. Instead of using touch to paralyze him, I took out my meteor hammer. I wound up a swing and hit him on the back of the head. There was a very loud cracking noise and his snoring stopped. Red pooled around the metal and I quickly pulled it back. I took the scalpel and began carving the R on his cheek. Twice I dropped it, as I was shaking so bad. The finished wound was full of wobbling lines and jagged edges. I put the scalpel back and began pacing about the room. The scythe wasn’t enough for me, though I wasn’t sure why. I just wanted to be done and home. I wanted to take a hot bath and go to bed. Yet I remained in that house, and Matthew Collins remained alive. The faint aura all humans carried still flickered so I knew his heart was still beating.
All of a sudden his hand twitched and I jumped, which seemed to jump my body into motion. I moved without having decided to, and I made my way to the kitchen. I searched each drawer until I found it. A long kitchen knife, exactly like the one he had used on me. A new wave of panic fell over me, though I moved anyway. I went back to the bedroom and issued him the same torment he issued me, though it didn’t have quite the same result. 228 stab wounds. Unfortunately, on his massive frame, all his limbs remained attached. When I was done, I was tired and covered fully in his blood, tears flooded my cheeks. I fell and collapsed there, falling through the floor to my pocket dimension. To my delight, the bath in my room had already been drawn. The room smelled of perfumes, though the metallic stench of blood overpowered it seemingly with ease.
Not bothering to disrobe, I climbed into the tub. Allowing myself to fully submerge beneath the water. So many emotions washed over me at that moment. Like whatever calm spell had been over me finally left. I was overcome with too many things. Fear, panic, grief, relief. All, of course accompanied by flashbacks. Visions of Matthew Collins, the smiling man, still managing to come after me. The only thing that kept me even slightly grounded through that was the feeling of hot water surrounding me. Other than that, I couldn’t seem to tell reality from the paranoia. This panic attack lasted for several hours until I was eventually just too tired. I slept under the water of the bath for a few days. The pocket dimension kept it warm and clean as I did so.
As a way to distract myself I spent the next few years learning and training. I found a way to summon my family’s entire library into the pocket dimension so I spent time learning my species by species' recent history. I only went back about 8000 years and skimmed to the present from there. I just wanted to know the basics, since I had nobody to teach me otherwise. The library itself can filter through the books for you if you give it parameters to look for. There were answers to one particular question that I desperately needed. So I sat up straight at the table I was reading at and asked it, dreading whatever answer may come my way.
“Why didn’t I die?” It came out quite and shaky. A scroll appeared on the table before me, the edges were frayed due to age but it was in otherwise good condition. The text itself was in such an old form of our language that I could barely decipher it. It was a direct account from one specific member of our species. We called him “Mairmoryu Ickmosh” which in english means “Death King”, nobody knew what his actual name was as he never included it in any of his entries. I didn’t know why he was called “Death King” until I read his account at 19. I was probably just too young at 5. Yeah, that’s reasonable. I did manage to update the language in a notepad as I went just in case I needed to ever reference it in the future. It took several days and gave me a headache just looking over it. Here’s roughly what was said, It’s not exact but it’s as close as it’ll ever be.
Something horrible has happened. Everyone is dead. I woke up this morning to find the world around me in burning ruins. Ash coats the sky and the air and if I happened to breathe I would surely be suffocating. Everything is on fire. How I remain unscathed I do not know. Of the 256 of us, I find nobody alive, and I count each of their clothes left in piles where they stood. Outside of our village I see little through the ash. What I can see is destroyed. Bodies of the giants we roamed with lay charred across smoldering fields. Few trees continue to stand where there were once many. Everything I cared so dearly for has been torn from me. I will follow their suit and reunite with them.
His first entry ended there and and and there were faded blue stains along the bottom. From that I gathered that his color was either Red or a blend of Blue and Yellow as Green, since green as its own color didn’t exist until roughly 7000 years ago. Our blood color is directly contradictory to our body color so it’s easier to tell when we’re injured. Sunni and I were both Blue and as twins, we each have one of the optional colors. Mine ended up being Red while hers was Yellow. Another scroll appeared on the table and the one in my hands vanished. Here is what his second entry said.
I have tried many ways. No matter what I try, this cruel world refuses to let me leave and join my loved ones. Every option has failed me. I even tried jumping directly into the river of heat which came from the tall mountain. I woke up in my own bed, partially covered in burn scars, but alive. That was my final attempt, my body now entirely riddled with scars. All I do now is sleep, any time I wake up I injure myself to fall back asleep. I yearn for nothing else but my dearest family. I hope they are at peace. But that is something I will never know of, I suppose.
That was the end of the second entry. The next one was quite a bit newer looking, meaning it was written hundreds of thousands of years later. This is confirmed within the entry itself.
I have not kept records as my ancestors have done, and for that I am ashamed. I have spent all of my time these last 500,000 years allowing myself to do nothing but sulk in my own misery. However, I have now come to the epiphany that I must continue on with my life, make what I can of eternity. If not for myself, then to honor those lost within the disaster, of and not of my kind. The world is still covered with ash, but not nearly as much, and it no longer glows a haunted red of fire. Trees have begun sprouting where they once stood magnificently and small beings not dissimilar to the giants of old have made their way to the fields, now green once more. I will begin keeping meticulous records of everything, as was done before. Though my personal writings will stay separate. Things are looking up and I intend to try and keep them that way.
And he did keep meticulous track of everything going on from that point forward. He wrote about the evolution of species, keeping eyes on the more notable ones. One in particular that caught his eye were these small primates, noted to look vaguely like us aside from commuting on mostly all fours and were covered in fur across the whole of their body. That particular line of evolution ended up leading directly to you humans, which I found out a few years later when I decided to go back and read some of his records. The name given for your species from ours is “Keertoh”, though I suppose that holds little significance. His next entry was then several millions of years later, an exact timeline was not given, but comparing them to his other work, it closest resembles the scrolls that are now roughly 4 million years old.
I have unfortunately neglected to continue my personal writings however I hope my tracking of everything else makes up for it. These new curious beings I’ve been watching continue to look more and more like Illuveteris every year. They now walk upright like us and carry very similar proportions. Their hair is also reduced to majorly just the tops of their heads and some to their faces. I wonder if it is something they have consciously done, to look like us? Perhaps only time shall tell. I have decided that the world is now right enough to bring in the next generation. I have one small child and plan on having more. She’s an absolute joy and the light of my life. The skies are blue and animals of all sorts roam. I share the joys of bonding with my child and will do my best to make sure she knows her roots, as will all my future children.
His next entry is within the same time-ish. It’s written about 1000-1500 years later. He was not as good at remembering to write down his personal life as he was the records he was keeping. Though, I suppose technically it wouldn’t be anybody’s business to know his goings on, so I can’t find a reason to be angry at him.
I have ended up with 25 wonderful children, each growing into themselves as young adults. I enjoy watching them grow and discover everything around them. And I look forward to seeing where they each choose to go in their lives.
The next entry is his last one. It’s fairly short, and the final one is from his eldest daughter. I'll put them together.
Written roughly 10,000 years after: All of my children have each had their own, and some of my grandchildren have as well. Overall between all 4 generations there are now 354 of us. I have 25 children, 243 grandchildren, and so far, 111 great grandchildren. I have begun to watch myself age again, no longer do I look as youthful as my children, but now I begin to show lines of age. I am no longer so sure of what the future holds, but I am incredibly proud of everything I have built thus far. And I look forward to seeing what new future I behold.
My father, the longest reigning king, has passed of old age. I, his eldest daughter, am taking his place, and will be continuing his work. At the time of passing, 23 of his 25 children remain alive, 238 of his 243 grandchildren live, and all 457 of his great grandchildren are alive, with an addition of currently 24 great great grandchildren. He will have a ceremony held this upcoming spring to signify his reuniting with his family at last in our afterlife amongst the stars. He will be greatly missed.
The final entry then vanished from my hand, returning to its place among the seemingly infinite shelves. Where it sits exactly, I’m not entirely sure. I spent days reading those entries in their entirety. Come to find out, I technically could make it so I could die again, but to do that I’d have to bring the population back up to “stable”. Not only am I currently far too young for that, with the current state of the world it will absolutely not happen, even if I were to feel ready. To bring children into the world to suffer just so I can move on would be incredibly selfish of me. It is something I will not be doing until things change. Which is what I set myself on doing once I was done reading. I stood from the table and made my way to bed. Swearing to start first thing the next morning.
When I woke I found myself to be in seemingly the exact same spot and position I had passed out in. However, the area around me looked entirely different. My blood no longer covered the floor, which now appeared to be made of a dark polished wood. There was now a large woven rug beneath me, providing some cushion. To my left was a small coffee table, which looked to be hand crafted and also polished. To my right was a raised hearth of nested fitted stones. They blended out into what was now a wall maybe of a combination of wood and stone. It had no windows. Within the hearth a decent fire flickered. It was considerably small for the room provided to it. High on the wall above the fireplace was a large portrait. A painting I hadn’t seen in a long time. Sunni and I were sitting together in a large armchair, while our siblings and parents stood around and behind us.
In front of me I could see a large oaken door, it was ornate and had gold detailings. I propped myself up carefully and made my way to my feet. I was still in my gown which remained stained crimson. I checked where I had been injured and sighed as each one was fully healed over. I began looking more around at my new surroundings. Directly opposite the oak door on the far wall were some double doors, both of which had windows on them. I made my way to look out to maybe get some semblance of where I was. In the corner by the doors was an old grand piano, I had to walk around it partially to get to the doors.
“This is a little too far out.” I commented to myself as I placed a hand on the key cover. Much to my surprise it then moved on its own to be pushed completely into the corner, leaving the walkway clear. I stared at it for a good few minutes before continuing to make my way to the doors.
Outside the windows I could see a short porch with a swing and a cover. It seemed to wrap around towards the right and I couldn’t see where it ended. Beyond the porch I could see the endless white void. So I was exactly where I had passed out. This house had just crafted itself within the void. I turned back to the fireplace and where I had been on the floor was now filled with a few pieces of leather furniture. A couch, two chairs, and a loveseat. Opposite the fireplace was a tall staircase, above it a small balcony with two doors on it. The stairs came straight down for several steps before rotating to the right, where it met the floor. Examining them further, they also appeared hand crafted and polished, like the coffee table. There were distinct carve marks on each step and large posts which seemed to each be entire tree trunks marked each point in the turn. It had a rail all the way up which was carefully detailed.
The walkway at the base of the stairs went further away from the living room with one branch off. The break off walkway went behind and under the staircase. It seemed to wrap back to the living room. There were more stairs immediately beneath the ones leading to the indoor balcony, leading down into the floor, curving in the same direction so I couldn’t see what all was down there. I went back to the main path.
Just a bit further there was a small nook out to the right. There was a large table with each seat already set. Once more the table and the chairs each appeared hand made. And further along was a really large kitchen which contained just about everything. I remember staring at it for several minutes just taking all of it in. Eventually I broke myself away to go see what was up the stairs. Once I was on the balcony I turned to look back over the whole of the living area. I was now at the same height as the painting and when I looked at it, my eyes instinctually met my mother’s. I quickly looked away and made my way beyond the doors.
On the other side was a massive bedroom. In the center was a bed I could only call “huge”. It looked at the very least king sized but it was definitely bigger. The frame itself, like almost every other piece of furniture, was visually handmade, and there was a thick comforter draped all the way to the floor on either side. Star patterns sewn in against a deep purple.. To the left came a shock. Against the far left wall, in a corner, there was a large bathtub. It appeared to be built into the room as it had its own walls and steps leading up to the edge. I decided to ignore that for now.
Over to the right was something I didn’t expect in the slightest. There was a large triangular window, following the roof line on one side. Outside the window I could see trees and sky. Like the window sat on a mountain cliff. Which of course didn’t make a lick of sense at first because the two doors downstairs just led out to the void of this pocket dimension. Putting too much thought into it made me dizzy so I made my way back to the center of the room. I sat on the end of the bed, still in that gown.
“I need new clothes,” I said aloud to myself, and to my surprise a door appeared near the bathtub. That was something I definitely had to work to get used to. I stood back up and walked to the new door. Beyond it was a considerably large walk in closet. Why every room ended up being so big I do not know, at the time they were quite overwhelming but I’ve adjusted since then.
I picked out some jeans, a button down, and sweater to wear, along with a pair of tennis shoes. I chose not to question how they all fit so well. I looked into the mirror on one of the walls to make sure it looked okay. I believe that was the first time I ever picked out my own clothing, and I was quite proud of it. I was curious how it would look if I tied my hair back. It had become about medium length. However as I held back a small pony tail with my hand all the scars on my forehead became fully visible. I let the hair fall back to cover it.
I made my way back downstairs and over to one of the only two places I hadn’t yet checked. The ornate door in the living room. I had no interest in going down to the basement yet. I pushed down the knob and pulled it open. Outside that door was dense forest. I stepped out and looked back. The door was against an outstandingly massive tree. Redwood. I couldn’t see anything behind the tree to indicate a house of any sort. And the door was seemingly swinging into the trunk itself. With the limited knowledge that I had at that point it didn’t make a lick of sense to me, so I just went back inside and sat on the couch facing the fire which still burned in the hearth.
I sat there for hours, I think, I can’t be certain. I had put myself into something called “soul space”. Which is essentially just my species’ way of disassociating. We withdraw ourselves from our bodies into this room within our minds. When we do this our eyes seem to “catch fire” and visually look like small suns. Which, given my species’ origin, makes sense, I suppose. It’s sort of a physical space we can exist within. Twins share a soul space from birth. So, I now try to avoid it if possible, but occasionally I check, just to make sure she’s not there. The silence is absolutely maddening. I sat in soul space on that couch for a long time.
Once I came out of it, I had decided that I would go to bed then, and when I woke up I would go to find Atticus and Virginia. I wanted to see them again, and let them know I was okay. I went back up the stairs and climbed into bed. The comforter was heavy and the mattress soft. I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow and It was the first actually good sleep I had gotten in years.
When I woke up it looked like mid afternoon according to the window, however I can never be sure exactly where it’s showing unless it’s a widely recognisable location. I was still wearing the clothing I had put on from the closet, aside from the tennis shoes which I slipped back on. Yawned and stretched to wake myself up before making my way back downstairs. I didn’t know where they were, but I knew I had to find the Millers. That was my first mission, and I was determined to complete it no matter the costs.
I went into the kitchen. Breakfast would come first. I hadn’t eaten in well over a year at that point and I could use the energy boost. On the peninsula island was a bowl of fruit: apples, bananas, and oranges. I picked up an apple and carried it to the sink, washing it off before taking a bite. A red delicious. When I turned back to the peninsula there was something new that definitely wasn’t there just moments prior. It was a newspaper dated September 29th, 1938. The top fold front page story title read in bold: “Horrible car accident kills 2.” As I stared at it I noticed another of the pages seemed to be dog-eared. I finished the apple and tossed the core in a trashcan. It promptly vanished entirely. Lifting the newspaper I unfolded it and flipped to the marked page, brows furrowed. The top of that page read “Obituaries”. There were only two names on it.
Atticus Miller, 28, 1910-1938
Virginia Miller, 25, 1913-1938
I was frozen. That couldn’t be right. They were always so careful, what happened? The front page story. Shakily I closed the newspaper to read it.
HORRIBLE CAR ACCIDENT KILLS 2: On Monday, September 26, a Ford Coup careened off the side of Cadillac Summit Road and caught fire at the bottom of a small valley between the peaks, killing the two occupants later identified by their dental records as Atticus and Virginia Miller. It is unknown as to the cause of the crash, however speculation suggests car issues or drunkenness as the road was in good condition for driving.
I couldn’t read any further. The paper fell from my hands and I collapsed to my knees. That wasn’t an accident. They had been killed because of me. Their death was on my hands. It was my fault. I yelled out to nobody, overwhelmed with despair. They were all I could have had. And now I was left with nothing.
That was when an entirely new emotion washed over me, something I wasn’t used to for sure. Rage. They were all going to pay. Each and every single one of them. I stood from the floor, my face was neutral but anger coursed through me. That rage lasted for at most a minute before I came to my senses. I was still angry, that was certain, but that was overwhelmed by mostly sadness. The rage didn’t feel like me at all. I left the newspaper on the counter and went into the living room.
On the coffee table there were two things, another newspaper, and an open 1946 calendar which had two dates circled in red. The first date circled was November 3rd, and in the box was written “escape”. The next date was November 12th, which read “today”. Since I had initially woken up the day before I concluded that meant I was unconscious on the floor for 8 days.
The Newspaper, which was dated November 11th’s front page header read: “Investigation Causes Saint Neumann’s Asylum Closure. Staff Arrested.” I read on.
On Monday, November 4th, an investigation was sparked into the Saint Neumann’s Asylum after a manhunt raised suspicion. Many patients have seemingly vanished from the hospital’s grounds with little searching done in years past, but after one particular patient’s escape on Sunday evening, many staff rounded up local men to track down the patient. The hospital’s reasoning for such a search out of nowhere was that the escaped patient was incredibly dangerous to both himself and the public, though they wouldn’t release his name or where he could be. Police searched the nearby woods and-
I put the paper back down. I already knew what went on within those walls. A smile crossed my face as tears fell. At least I did one good thing.
CONTENT WARNINGS: extremely dark, medical procedures, extreme injury, blood, verbal and physical abuse, mentions of SA, imprisonment. Read further at your own will.
I went from that courtroom, still in the hospital gown, straight to that damned asylum. I never got a proper goodbye with the Millers. I stayed at Saint Neumann’s until I was 16, which is when all hell broke loose and the asylum itself was shut down.
Neumann’s Asylum was shut down when I escaped. The amount of manpower they rallied up to try and find me raised suspicions amongst those in town who didn’t know I existed. Which then sparked an investigation. It wasn’t closed due to the “regular” mistreatment that you hear about from most mental hospitals in the 40s. That was pretty publicly known. However, behind closed doors, the staff at Neumann’s did so much worse. Some of the patients with higher function would be killed and sold to universities as cadavers. Just enough to not raise an alarm. Their families were often told that they simply run away and weren’t found. A lot of the young girls and some of the young boys would be kept and temporarily “rented”. But the doctors kept their favorites.
I, personally, was sold as something else. The men who had killed my family and left me as I am became “customers” to the asylum. And I wasn’t the only patient they came to see. That, I’m sure of. Initially they did try to.. Use me that way. If it wasn’t for the fact that I don’t have any organs at all, then I’m certain they would have. I suppose I got lucky in that sense. After they discovered that they couldn’t defile me with that they turned to other methods. There was once when they took me outside to the yard. I don’t like that memory. When even what they did that time didn’t kill me, I was dragged inside by the collar of my shirt and up to my room where I was left to bleed, alone. I am grateful I fell unconscious shortly. Another patient informed me once I’d awoken that the nurses didn’t take kindly to me “dirtying the floor”. I was out, that time, for 10 days. And I woke up with a new, circular scar on my forehead.
That part is incredibly difficult to say and evidently also really hard to type out. I think I’ve only ever told one person about what happened to me and the others in that place. I haven’t seen him in a few days. Off doing his job I suppose. Maybe we’ll bump into each other soon.
I spent most of my days in isolation. My room was placed on the very top floor and locked from the outside. They didn’t hardly ever feed me, though I didn’t suppose they had to. I get all my energy from sleep which was just about the only thing I could do. The only time I ever interacted with any other patient was the few times they did give me food, or walking through the hallway to “appointments”. All of my visits with the doctor, if you could even call him that, were pure torture. He had taken note on how seemingly nothing could kill me and decided that he would personally do whatever he could to create immortality. Which, with what was their current technology at the time, consisted of taking pieces of my body and experimenting on them. I was never allowed any anesthetics, though I don’t know if they would have even worked if I was. To them, since I wasn’t human obviously I couldn’t feel pain. And if I showed signs of being in pain, that was good. Because I was “of the devil and from hell” according to them. The doctor would mostly use already scarred areas, however he was not opposed to leaving me new ones.
Though all of that did have quite the toll on me physically and mentally. There was one consistent thing that I now consider to be worse. All the staff did their damndest to gaslight me into believing my entire life was a lie any chance they interacted with me. I was repeatedly told that I was 100% human. Anything different that I saw was a hallucination. My family was never killed and, in fact, had been the ones to place me into Neumann’s care because I was crazy. Though they used more colorful language. If I brought up the doctor’s words, they’d tell me he’d never said that and I was receiving normal check up appointments. If I pointed out my prosthetics, I was told that it was just a normal human arm. They kept that up the entire 8 years I was there. Even now sometimes I look for long periods of time into mirrors to check for any inconsistencies. Occasionally I would catch a nurse praying or holding onto a rosary when I was nearby, and that assisted a bit in reassuring me that I knew who and what I was.
One thing I was absolutely not allowed to do was touch anybody of my own volition. Considerably a bit more mild than everything else that went on there. But my species’ primary form of bonding is through different forms of touch. So it was a bit of a big deal for me and I still suffer the repercussions of it today.
What finally broke me occurred when I was 16. I was escorted down to the second floor, which is where the doctor's main examination room was. That was not the room I was taken to. It looked much different inside than the other one. In this room was a chair in place of a table. There were straps located on the chair in several spots, far more than would be expected as well. Ankle, thigh, wrist, one for the lower abdomen, one for the upper and around the shoulders, and then one final strap for the head. I turned to look at the nurse who had escorted me.
“Sit,” she instructed. I turned to look back at the chair. I suppose I just didn’t move fast enough for her because she struck me across the face and repeated herself, “I said sit!” I then did as instructed.
Another nurse came in at that point and they both began strapping me in, beginning with that lower abdomen strap. I knew where I was at that point. I remembered seeing patients enter and leave the room a few times. They were always incredibly different after whatever happened in that chair. No longer could they walk or so much as speak. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. After the nurses had completed all 9 straps they left the room. Each piece of fabric was rough and felt far too tight, the metal buckles digging into my body. The edges were sharp. I couldn’t move in the slightest, any attempt made was met with the buckles cutting into my arms or legs. I was alone in that room for hours, bright fluorescent lights shown directly onto my face and closing my eyes did little to help. I could feel my soul beating out of my chest and tears poured down my face. I just wanted whatever they were going to do to be over and done with already.
I heard footsteps outside the room and the door seemed to scream as it swung open. The doctor now stood in front of me, a deceptively ‘sweet’ smile on his face. I couldn’t help but compare him to that ‘Matthew Collins’ any time I saw him. I made eye contact with him and his smile grew. I involuntarily whimpered when it did. He definitely enjoyed doing this to patients, considering how often he chose to do it.
“Well, young man, the lovely nurses here have brought it to my attention that you’ve become increasingly troubled as of late. I know your friends haven’t visited you recently so I’m sure that’s brought you down.” At this two nurses came into the room with a small rolling cart covered in various tools. The doctor regarded them for a moment before he continued, “Well there is a small procedure we’ll be performing today that will cure you permanently. It’s only about 10 years into practice, but it has worked wonders for all of my patients, so I am confident it will work wonders for you, boy.”
I averted my eyes to the table. I didn’t want to look at him and it was within view. On it I saw three things. A small hammer with a long handle, A spike of equal length that had what looked like a T-shaped handle, and a pad of gauze that was neatly folded.
“Now the way I normally do this isn’t really possible,” He brought my attention back to him, “Your facial structure is quite different from other patients so I will need to go about this in a new way. However, I am fully confident that the change will make no difference.” He took a few steps forward so he was standing immediately next to the chair on my left. “Now, let’s begin, shall we?”
He picked up the long spike and showed it to me. “This is really sharp, so you shouldn’t feel much, not to worry.” I was very much worrying. He placed the point just above and to the right of my left eye. I tried my best not to focus on it, however it took up half of my vision so I didn’t have much choice. My vision was cloudy with tears once again as I saw him reach back and grab the small hammer. I could feel my body shaking and the buckles cutting deeper as he lined it up and drew it back to strike.
The sound and pain rocketed through my skull. It felt as if lightning had shot through me and sounded like something exploded within my head. The doctor drew the mallet back again. When he struck again all I could hear was ringing. Nothing else was audible to me, though I could feel myself screaming. Once he was satisfied that he had the spike far enough through my head, he began to move it. That was a whole new hell.
I know it only happened for a few moments but it felt like eternity. I heard a click through the ringing and felt a strong heat swallow my being. Hot metal coursing through me. I remembered that feeling from years prior. The sounds of the world came back to me and I heard the doctor yelling in pain. I could again smell the sickly scent of burning human flesh. He reflexively pulled himself back, and the spike went with it. My blood poured from where it had once been and I could see blue flames flickering from it as well. I had expected to begin falling and braced myself for such, since the previous two times my magic surged that’s what happened. Instead I felt the straps pop open one by one beginning from the one on my head.
The fluorescent lights on the ceiling shattered, shrouding the room in darkness as glass from the one on a stand immediately above me cut into my neck and face. My body emits a faint glow in pitch darkness, though it’s nowhere near bright enough to illuminate anything around me. I stood from the chair, stumbling and shaking as I did. I was barefoot and in a gown so the glass also cut me as I walked. I fumbled my way forward to the door and pulled it open. The room itself was at the far end of the hall and against the end wall there was a tall window. When I looked through the panes it too shattered, leaving jagged pieces around the edges which stuck into the frame. I didn’t know how it was happening but I knew it was my chance. I turned back to the room, the door had remained open behind me. The doctor was still yelling and one of the nurses was tending to him while the other was gaining her bearings. I lifted myself a tad to get my prosthetic foot onto the sill, the glass couldn’t cut that. I used my prosthetic arm to brace myself. I took one last look behind me at the place which had held me prisoner for 8 whole years and jumped.
I was not at all braced for the ground, so I fell hard. If my bones could have broken I’m sure several of them would have. As quickly as possible I pushed myself to my feet and began running. There were woods nearby and they had to do. I’d look for the Millers as soon as I had my bearings in the world.
An alarm sounded behind me. I was just reaching the woods as I saw a few nurses and several security guards go out the front door and begin searching around. One of the guards spotted me, and called to the others. I took off as fast as possible into the dense foliage, the wounds on my foot slowed me down considerably, but that was the least of my issues at that moment. I could see incredibly well through the dark, though my mind felt foggy. I ran into several low hanging branches and a few bushes of sorts, each time making a loud ruckus, and I could hear the guards getting closer to me. I could hear one get within several yards of me when I tripped. My foot had caught underneath a raised root, which caused me to completely collapse forward.
However, when I fell instead of falling into the leaves and dirt, I became completely surrounded by that endless white voice. And this time I did not simply begin falling only to end up in another place. I hit a solid surface. A floor within the void. As soon as I realized I was safe, and they could no longer take me back, I began sobbing uncontrollably. My blood began to cover the floor in a puddle as I did. I don’t know how long I just laid there crying, but when I had stopped, the crimson puddle was a considerable size, nearly larger than my entire body.
I tried once to push and prop myself up but that was to no avail, I was shaking far too much for that. I could feel a heat forming at the base of my skull. That was a heat I had become familiar with at Neumann’s. It was my indication that I would pass out shortly from whatever injuries I had, so I wouldn’t be conscious much longer. I stretched my good arm out and laid my hand flat on the floor that was clean of blood. It was..
“Cold…” I muttered to myself before promptly passing out.
Content Warnings: gore descriptions, death, blood, harm of children, food descriptions.
First Person POV: Raymond
I must begin my story by stating that I am the last of my kind. And because of that, as well as other reasons I will get into shortly, I cannot die. It is a fate I would never even begin to wish upon another being, as it is endless torture on one’s body and mind.
My species carries the name Illuveteris adopted from the Latin phrase “illi veteris lucis” or “those of old light” used to describe us by the humans of old. Though our species existed much before the evolution of Homo sapiens, I don’t know why a name had not been chosen or whether or not a name had even existed before that point; I could never find a reason in any of the texts I read over. Now, before I delve into how I became the last of my kind, and what led me to kill hundreds, if not thousands of humans, I should tell you a little bit about my species so that later occurrences make sense. It will seem like a whole lot of nothing, but it feels important to get out of the way so no inconsistencies occur. However, feel free to skip to the story.
As far as physical descriptions go: think of a glass frog when imagining this, being see-through and all. I do not look like a frog, nor am I shaped like one, it’s just an easy visualizer to begin. We actually look quite similar to humans in terms of shape and proportion. As far as we can tell, our most basic structure of a skeleton is either near or outright identical, however there are plenty of key differences. The most noticeable being the fact that the Illuveteris do not have any organs internal or external, in any sense. The food we eat is instantaneously completely transformed into energy. So, there is no waste needing to leave. And our young come from growing them through magic, sort of similarly to budding, between partners. We also lack the presence of “skin” as it’s known in others. We do have a flesh that encases our bones and lack of organs but the colors range and it’s entirely transparent. The different colors signify different personality traits. My color is important to the story so I will elaborate on those.
The color of one's body tells how they will act throughout the majority of their life. It doesn't mean that someone will always “act their color”, but it summarizes their entire future. There was often a pressure in my society to fully live up to your color, or to fully act the opposite, depending. Red means “honest”, often to the point of detriment. Orange is “gentle natured and calm”, in almost any and every situation. Those with orange bodies are often raised and trained to be decision makers. Yellow means “optimistic” and often end up as entertainers or the creative crowd. Green means “cold natured, un caring, emotionless”. Many were pushed to act as if they were any color but green. Purple means “loyal”. Those who were purple often stood up for those closest to them, sometimes putting themselves in harm's way. Blue means “Big hearted”. They often became knowers of medicine or therapists.
My color is, unfortunately, mostly blue.
Having a lack of organs, or “vital” body structures did not mean that we were impervious to harm. Our bodies are made of a physical condensed magic. We could very much still die. And many of us have. Back before the “incident” by several decades there was a small war waged between us and some other magical species, leaving our population to only about 160 members. I will stop the descriptions here. I have a couple candid photos of myself I took fairly recently, originally intended to document my scarring as I gain more and vitiligo as it spreads; however, they can act as a visual for how most Illuveteri looked, should anyone actually be interested.
How do I know that I’m now immortal? Well, several reasons, actually. Firstly, because of the things I have survived which should end life through mortal injury. I watched someone die of the same injuries I obtained shortly prior to me being the last. Secondly, I went back and read as much ancient text as I could as soon as I was able, and as soon as I located the records of the last time there was a single member of our kind left. This took many weeks of searching the expansive library. Roughly 64 million years ago was the last and only other case of a single member being left. That number probably sparks memories of certain mass extinctions. The texts were all written in the oldest forms of our language. We are all born knowing it, yet like any language, it evolves and meanings change. So making out exactly what they said was completely impossible. What I could piece together is that the magic our body is made of is sort of its own being in a way. But only partly. And it’s apparently a little bit slow as it only realizes something is incredibly wrong once there's only one life force left. If only it had noticed at 2. However, I digress. I’ll move on into the actual story now.
I was born in the year 1930 in a castle heavily surrounded by the 17 and a half million acres of forests hidden in Maine. My mother was the queen of our kind. She was always busy, but often pulled away from her duties to bond with her children; and my father, her royal assistant and lead magic researcher. He had a little more free time. Technically, all of my siblings and I were born to him. I had 4 older siblings. My oldest brother, Sage, 68; My sister, River, 46; My sibling, Briar, 27; and my twin sister, Sunni. We may have been twins but the entire family used to swear up and down that she was born first, making me the youngest.
The first part of my childhood I was spoiled, and I lived well. All the children had human nannies that had been hired to help raise us while our parents were busy. The nanny Sunni and I had was a hearty black woman from Louisiana named Cecelia. She made the best foods I’d ever eaten, and I’d give anything to see her again today.
On July 23, 1936, the day of mine and Sunni’s 6th birthday, there was an extravagant celebration commencing. Generally around the age of 6 is when Illuveterians begin to gain access and control of our magic, so it is deemed as a very important day. Massive festivities covered the yard and lavish food adorned tables covered in decorations. Both of us were dressed in ornate robes that had been made and set aside for this specific day, and atop our heads were small crowns, each designed to fit our exact specifications and desires. Cecelia had made several of our favorite dishes; jambalaya, etouffee, beignets, the list goes on. I’m glad I got to enjoy the food that day. It remains the only speck of happiness within a memory shrouded in horror. I cannot enjoy that summer's day anymore. All I seem to be able to force myself to do is mourn those lost once it rolls around every year.
My mother came to check on us as Cecelia finished the fastenings on our robes and made sure that our crowns were positioned so they wouldn’t fall off at any point.
“Thank you, Cecelia, for all the work you’ve put in for today. They both look stunning.” My mother smiled at her.
“Ma’am, you know these two mean the absolute world to me. I’d do anything for them.” Cecelia bowed her head slightly. My mother hummed gently.
“I see that Raymond is wearing River’s old crown. It looks nice on him.”
“River said I could!” I called back, hugging onto my mothers dress. I wasn’t anywhere near tall enough to reach anything further.
“He insisted on wearing it.” Cecelia chimed in, “Said it was so pretty and he wanted to wear it for their birthday.”
“Well, so long as River agreed to it, then there’s no issue. Now, I believe it’s time for dinner.” My mother smiled again, putting a hand on both of our heads. Sunni and I ran off to the dining table, being sure to take our seats as quickly as possible.
We had eaten well and played many games. It was just as we were getting to the cake and presents that events kicked off in the entirely wrong direction. I remember I had just taken the first bite of my slice of cake when a guard hurriedly walked forward and whispered to my mother. A look of worry covered her face and she rushed out the door. I turned to Cecelia for an answer, which was met by a smile and a hand on my back. I kept eating. It was a coconut cake paired with pineapple ice cream. The thought of those flavors make me feel sick nowadays. I was 3 bites in when I heard a scream. It was my mother’s. I looked over to Sunni and saw she had also heard it and was visibly scared. Several of the guests began to panic. Every guard in the room took off running in the direction the scream came from. My father was with them. Several loud popping noises sounded nearby. At the time I didn’t know what they were, but now I know very well that they were gunshots. Cecelia took the plates from our hands and set them on the table, picking the both of us up and walking quickly into a nearby bedroom - her own. Admittedly, she was probably a little rougher than she meant to be. As soon as we were within her room she shut the door, and I heard the lock click. She ushered the two of us into the closet, motioned for us to stay quiet, kissed each of us on the forehead, and closed the doors. Through the tiny gap left between the doors I could see her rummage through the bedside table and pull out a large kitchen knife. I remembered having seen her cook with it and wondered when she’d stashed it. She then pushed the dresser in front of the door. Its legs scraping against the wooden floor were loud. From within the closet I could hear more pops ringing out. Several people were screaming. I remember a few of the screams being abruptly cut off. Sunni was crying and I am certain I was as well.
Cecelia sat herself on the edge of the bed, right in front of the closet, yet facing the door. She had such a grip on the handle of the knife that her knuckles were white, a stark contrast to her complexion. I saw a tear roll down her cheek as she grit her teeth. She looked over to the closet and smiled. It was forced and fake, but she was trying her best to keep the both of us calm. It felt like hours before nothing more could be heard. Though, it was probably only minutes. The door handle rattled furiously as someone on the other side tried to open it. They then threw themselves against the ornate oak. It was sudden and the breach of the silence caused me to jump. Sunni whimpered and covered her mouth. The banging continued. Cecelia shook as fear encompassed her person. She stood and pointed the knife to the door, though she looked like she might collapse at any second. Her face seemed to pale to an ashen gray. I, at least, had assumed that it would be too sturdy to be broken through. I learned very quickly that I had assumed wrong.
The wood of the doorframe splintered, loudly cracking as the lock gave way, the door slamming into the dresser, leaving barely an inch of view. I could hear a deep and gruff laugh. It sounded as if whoever it had come from had been smoking for the majority of his life - and I’d bet he had. Once he had the door busted from its lock he simply pushed against it to move the dresser. And once again that awful sound of its legs scraping the floor sounded out. Cecelia was frozen for a moment. I could not see who she was looking at but his footsteps were thundering. Within moments a very large figure towered over Cecelia, blocking nearly my entire view of her. She came back to her senses and swung the knife at the man, who easily dodged and ripped it from her hands. He grabbed her hair with one hand and she let out a cry of pain. He lifted her near effortlessly off the floor to be eye level with himself.
She held his gaze, refusing to look at us. There was a stubbornness in her facial expression. In pain and imminent danger, yet continuing to protect us. He took the kitchen knife and plunged it into her stomach, dropping her to the floor right after. Unbeknownst to me, Sunni had stood over me to peer out, and she let out a gasp. That was all the indication the man needed. He made his way over to the closet doors, a crimson puddle forming around Cecelia as he did so. He did not throw the door open violently, instead choosing to slowly pull it open, peering down at us with an ear to ear grin on his face. He knelt down to where Cecelia’s body had fallen and removed the knife from her abdomen. He then crawled back over to the closet and began his seemingly endless shower of stabs. I turned away from him in an attempt to cover Sunni. As I did so I saw joy in his face. As I was the closest to the door I took the brunt of it all. The world was silent. I remember crying and screaming, but not hearing a bit of it. At some point I opened my eyes to look at Sunni. She was sobbing. My gaze fell to the floor as I was unable to keep my head up. As I did I felt the knife wiz through my hair just over my head, knocking my crown off. When I looked back up I saw the knife being pulled from Sunni’s face and ripping backwards across my left shoulder. I watched her body crumble and fade to nothing, just leaving her robes in a pile on the wood, covered in my blood. Her crown lay now atop it all. I yelled out for her. I yelled to nobody. That was the point I was officially completely alone. The last of my kind. The man had not stopped. I felt the knife then go through the back of my head a few times. The blade was long enough for it to go all the way through and out my forehead.
I felt a heat then envelop the whole of my body. It was as if molten metal coursed through me.. I had seen those older than me experience surges of magic, but never had I thought to imagine what they may feel like. It was quite an unpleasant feeling. My body at the time was not ready to handle such energy. I could see blue flames spouting out of every wound; yet they seemed to almost be just simple projections to the air around me, as they, themselves, seemed to produce no heat. It was then that my hearing came back as I heard the man behind me yelling out in pain. I could smell the sickly sweet scent of burning human flesh. It was overwhelming. The heat swelled hotter and hotter until a bright flash of white surrounded me. A void of nothingness. This, however, lasted only for a brief moment before I could feel myself falling. My body landed hard against a metal, grated floor; and the sound it made rang through a seemingly endless corridor. As my vision slowly faded out I caught a glimpse of a paper that had fallen off a table next to me. All I could make out on the page was ‘Dr. Z…’. And then all I knew was darkness.
i’ve been thinking about this video nonstop since the first time i saw it
the jaunty walk perfectly in time with the music. the tip of the hat the unaware or uncaring bystanders. the shaky camera with random zooming. the fact that this is seemingly happening in a park. this is peak media i can’t get over it
germansingergirl
prguitarman
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
