【 FLIGHTLESS WINGS♟️ 】「 2 」↺
【 WARNINGS: The Spectre, Manipulation, possibly hard to read reversed text, descriptions of death/blood, BIG TW FOR PHYSICAL PAIN/BODILY HARM. 】— ↺ ♟️
ABC for family!! ABC ABC!!
You're so hauntingly aware of your lack of feeling, aware of your body succumbing to death.
Everything is pitch black, cold, and uncertain. You find yourself waiting for something to happen, unsure if anything will ever happen again.
Thousands of questions raced through your mind: are you dead?
What did you do that warranted your murder?
Does being monstrous mean you deserve to die?
If you were born any different at all, would it have been a different story?
And especially, Is anyone going to know what happened to you— or care? And as much as you wanted to, you couldn't name one person who would.
You aren't even sure if anyone ever liked you. Not when you were a mismatched monster.
Killed like a vermin before the night was even through.
And now It feels like you're somewhere in between life and death, stuck hopelessly without a chance of escape.
You're left with a feeling of betrayal, dread, and fear as you desperately search for a sign of your impending fate. Or anything to ever happen again for that matter.
You just want to cry but you're unsure if you can even do that right. You always mess everything up. You're a mess, a mistake. Something never meant to be.
You try to move, to open your eyes or hear anything, and you struggle just to do that.
As you slowly open your eyes, you feel an aching in the back of your head. The details of where you are slowly register in your brain, but none of it makes any sense.
You're in a dark hard-to-see room. It's hard to see anything but you know for a fact this isn't the alleyway you were shot at.
No, it's different. Too different. You glance around, noticing shaky lines of red code hovering in random corners before disappearing.
The code is made out of constantly ever-changing ones and zeros. Flickering and shifting.
There's furniture on what you guess to be the ceiling. Specifically a chair, a broken lamp, and a nightstand. Bright red drawing-like outlines highlight their shapes, making them somewhat visible in the dark.
Flowers float and hover around the chair. decaying and wasting away like they were never alive, rotted petals gently falling onto the darkness that is the floor.
Clustering into a pile uselessly.
Almost nothing is in this 'room' you're in, barren and devoid of outside life. It barely looks like a room, more so a dream-like void.
You can't tell if you're delirious from blood loss and seeing things, or if things truly look like a fever-dream mixed with an interior design nightmare.
Whoever made this place— or designed it, needs their license revoked and ten years in a maximum security prison. Minimum.
You really must be dreaming, everything feels unreal and false. Strange nonsensical events happening one after another.
Even the things that have been happening to you, that you're forced to live through, seem as if they're nothing more than a painful nightmare that you struggle to wake up from.
You just want to wait for your alarm clock to ring, to remind you that you're late for work. To prove you're still alive.
The high-pitched ringing sound that was once loathed by you quickly became one of the only things you were seeking out.
You make sad attempt at leaning up, at least even a little. Only to be met with the feeling of a violent, hot blinding pain to course through your body.
The feeling alone made you feel sick. Like you were dying all over again.
So much so that you fell backwards, hitting your head on the ground.
Someones watching you, laughing about what they see. Musing to themself about how weak you are.
(“.pu teg uoy emit s'ti ,won emoC .ti gnizitamardrevo ylpmis uoy era rO ?hguor oot I saw ,mH”)
You could've sworn you heard something in the back of your head, much like someone speaking but in a language you couldn't understand.
Maybe someone else is here with you? Would you even want that?
You never really noticed it, but you have a feeling that you've heard it before.
You've just been ignoring it— them, filtering it out for weeks at this point. How long has it even been there?
You once again scramble to stand up, the pain from before coming back in pulses as you shakily get onto your knees.
Then, you push yourself onto your own two feet. You're standing up, finally.
A wave of dizziness hits you, making you almost fall. You managed to keep yourself up right by pushing the feeling down as hard as you could.
Ignoring problems never really makes them go away, as much as you wouldn't want to admit.
The searing sensation faded after a while, leaving you with only a sense of discomfort radiating through your limbs.
If you're moving and in pain then there's a small chance you could be alive. Hopefully.
You can recall every detail of it with ease, what you saw, what you felt, and the agony of a bullet ripping through the back of your head and burying itself deep into your skull.
Just the memory alone is painful and fills you with an ever-lasting horror, your head throbbing.
A thought came to mind: what if you just searched for the wound the bullet left behind?
As horrifying as it would be, checking would confirm if it had really happened or not.
The answer could possibly leave you worse off, but you had to be brave about it.
There's no one who could comfort you here anyways...
With a deep inhale and a slow exhale, you let one of your arms fall to your side. The pain before comes back, pulsing.
You wince as you ready it to feel around the back of your head—
“.flesym uoy pleh ot evah d'I gnikniht saw I ereh dnA .yllanif ,hA”
Before you can check for blood or an entry wound, you hear that voice again.
It doesn't feel like it's just in your head anymore, it sounds like someone's speaking directly to you.
It's not just a figment of your imagination anymore. For better or for worse.
You turn around, your eyes darting side to side looking for the source.
If anything, what happened before has taught you to be aware of your surroundings. You'd never risk what happened again.
“Hello? Is someone there? I- I can't uh, understand what you're saying. Where are you?” You call out, your voice weak and strained.
You don't stop yourself from continuing your search for this mystery 'person', as you call them. Chances are they aren't even real.
“.uoy ekil enoemos ot nwonk eb ot deen t'nseod noitacol yM .ereh m'I ,seY”
They spoke with a bored tone. It was like it was responding to your question. at least somewhat.
How are you supposed to understand them when its talking like. . That. It doesn't sound like a language you know, or really a language at all.
Their voice sounds like a recording put in reverse, mixed with something eerie. Like static or an old tv show laugh track.
You tilt your head, confusion quickly flooding your face. You let out a small, confused, murmur of a “huh?”, nervously fiddling with a part of your outfit.
A smaller accessory you spun around in your fingers. you just needed something to ground yourself before you spiraled into panic.
The stress of everything that you're going through feels worse than the physical pain in your joints, you're overwhelmed and exhausted.
Worse of all, you don't even know in what direction to look in to address this.. Thing.
You just guessed the direction where the voice sounded the loudest, near that weird ceiling-chair thing with the flowers.
You hear the direction of where the voice is coming from shift, drifting further away.
As you take a step forward to close the distance, a pitch-black tendril shot up from the ground and wrapped around your ankle.
You extend your arms out, bracing yourself for the fall to come as you get tripped up over it.
You even squeezed your eyes shut in fear of the impact.
“.flesruoy hctaW“ once again it laughed.
You were caught by what felt like a hand at the last moment.
The hand grabbed at the strap of your backpack, keeping you suspended just a little bit above the ground.
Like a kitten being held by the scruff of its neck. Or more so like a raccoon you had to pull out of your workplace's dumpsters.
You're left there like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing if you're supposed to get yourself out of it's grasp or not.
you better show you're grateful before they trip you again.
“Thank you—” you managed not to stutter halfway through, you hope that's enough for it to be happy with.
“.esion desufnoc elttil a naht erom tcepxe I .ti tuoba lamrof eromorem eb tsael yrev ta dluohs uoy neht ,em dnuora lamina dednuow ,sseleulc ,roop a ekil tca ot gniog er'uoy fI”
The voice scoffs loudly, scolding you for something unknown.
At least it had enough decency to catch you?
For a moment, they stop talking, probably trying to get its jumbled up words to stick. Not like you know what they want either way.
It jerked you backwards with the same strap, putting you right back onto your feet.
Then it continues, “?ew llahs ,esle gnihtemos no sucof su teL .uoy ot erew yeht woh rebmemer I ,on ,hA —y esiar s'tnerap ruoy did ,nwap ,em lleT”.
Whatever they said, not that you even understood it— made you feel uncomfortable.
You tried to translate it mentally but your mind kept going blank.
No clue... But you still felt all the same.
You're left standing there awkwardly and nervously as you process, or well, try to process what its scrambled speech is telling you.
You have too many things to ask and not a single answer or clue to any of your questions. Do they want something from you? Or could it be seeking out violence? You can only hope for answers to come, sooner than later.
“I really can't— I don't know what you're saying to me. Who even are you?” Confidence flew out of the window the second you opened your mouth to speak.
You just hoped they wouldn't notice it. That weakness, that fear, it had gotten you here in the first place.
Are you really going to get anywhere with this though? Speaking to some stranger who you can't even understand?
You're trying your hardest, truly, and it's still practically nonsensical back-and-forth banter. There's not a "how to" guide asking into void hoping for a response. Especially if that said void speaks in reverse.
“?uoy elddarc ll'I tahT ?uoy ot revo gnihtyreve dnah tsuj llI kniht yllaer uoy oD .nwap ,ecneitaP” it loudly cackled to itself at the beginning of it's sentence, the sound echoing.
You have a gut feeling they're doing it on purpose. And you thought the condescending voice was bad enough. Yeah, there's no way it didn't trip you.
It's like they want you to be annoyed or as frustrated as physically possible. If you have to spend the rest of eternity dealing with this..
Maybe they don't realize you can't understand them however?. Inhale. Exhale. You calm down and try again. Calming your nerves, you try again. You didn't notice how badly your hands shook.
“Can you— Do you know what I'm saying?”
“.Mhm” it gave a mockingly casual response. One you could actually understand.
It really was doing everything they could to toy with you. like you were nothing more than a pawn in it's game. What a little #####...
Here you were, basically begging for the truth— terrified out of your mind, and it had the sheer audacity to treat you like it's personal court jester.
Against your better judgement, you mumbled to yourself something along the lines of: “I hate it here.” While it was quiet, barely audible even— it still seemed to have heard you.
”.gnidnatsrednu nwo ruoy rof ton ,tnemniatretne ym rof ereh er'uoY”,
with a swift movement, something— or more accurately someone. Sharply tugged the wings on your back.
It was sudden. Which made it even more terrifying. You didnt even know if it was something in the void, or the voice itself.
You squirmed around, trying to pull yourself free. In response, the tugging became hard pulling.
You couldn't help but scream. Not that it even hurt that much, it was something you had gotten used to long ago— it was more so the shock that they could do something like that.
As suddenly as they started, they stopped.
You were left disoriented, with a sinking feeling weighing down inside your chest. Your heart felt like it was going to dig itself out of your chest.
It being able to physically harm you on a whim added another layer of fear.
What if it did it again, something equally painful, or even worse? There wouldn't be any stopping it. Not if you couldn't even see it nor knew how to stop it.
"Wohemso enil ni uoy peek ot dah I. nwap, ho. Nwap." it spoke blankly. No laughing, no condescension. It could have been seen as almost shocking, considering how it was attacking before.
How did it even get to your wings when you had your backpack protecting them? —
It was instead an arms length or two away from you, discarded like a piece of trash. You could make out it's shape as clear as day.
Before you could even think about getting it back, it disappeared.
Only for it to repear in front of you. A lily poking out of one of the pockets, milky white in color. A black bow tied around it's stem bound what looked to be a black folded up letter to it.
You weren't the type to receive flowers, and you were sure you hadn't had any on hand before or after you had found yourself here.
Maybe it had left it for you.?
Wow, the first person to ever get you a flower is a disembodied— most likely malicious entity-thingy.
It's something you can ignore though. So that's exactly what you do. You ignore it and focus on shielding your now exposed wings.
With a soft sigh, you tuck your wings back into the layers of fabric that kept them concealed. Right where they belonged, out of sight out of mind or whatever.
Then your arms found their way through your bookbag's straps.
You adjusted it so it'd sit normally on your back. As normally as it could with the bumps caused by your wings, at least. It helped with keeping them hidden away.
“Evael uoy emit s'ti” as soon as it was said, your vision began to blur. Dark spots bloomed like flowers before fully taking over. All sound became distant, silent. You fought to stay awake and aware, only to fail in the end.
You stirred from your state of unconsciousness, the darkness in your vision cleared. You weren't sure how much time had passed, if any.
You were laying on your back, staring up at the foggy night sky. Trees easily towered over you, bushes and other plants blocked most of your view.
You didn't even try to get up. You luckily weren't in pain, but you were heavily exhausted. The ground was welcoming enough anyhow.
The forest wasn't what you were used to, considering you weren't from an area that had them. Only concrete and highrises as far as you could see. A small part of you was happy to be here rather then in that “void”.
You don't have a recollection of anything that happened after being shot in that alleyway. Other then that weird dream thing you had.
Maybe you were robbed and dropped off here? Luckily you're poor so they didn't have much to steal. Who goes for an overworked minimum wage employee even?
You can figure everything out later, you're too tired right now.
You close your eyes and try to rest, unaware of who's watching you.
“Like [name], i too am going to be shot dead for not posting in- like what 2..months?? ๐·°(৹˃ᗝ˂৹)°·๐ ajajjajajjjjhhshggh Why am i always so busy i just wanna make silly block people fanfic
Anyways now that i got this chapter down, it'll be way easier to do everything else! (◍•ᴗ•◍)
side note!! GUEST666 CAME OUT AND I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO PLAY THE UPDATE THIS IS TORTURE. I'VE HAD A WIFI OUTAGE FOR SO LONGG•̩̩̩̩ᯅ•̩̩̩
For veeronica, guest666, and slasher- i need more info on them to know if i should have them as platonic interests or romantic. (And their lore)
feel free to lore dump in the comments man I NEED IT!! you'll get your name on the next chapter when it comes out in twenty years!! /hj” — Magic ദ്ദി˶˃ ᵕ ˂ )✧
