Lindsay whimpered and sobbed. There were two policemen who came here earlier, why weren’t they back to save her yet? It would’ve been them instead of her, but alas, the people she was stuck between were dead.
What was she to do? She could pull herself off of the man in front of her, but her knee ligaments were gone and she would’ve ended up pulling the stitches on her cheek off (which, although it would’ve been painful, it would’ve been much much better than what she’s already gone through).
She never caught the man in front’s name, as she only spoke English and he only spoke Japanese. All she knew is that he was an ordinary person. He didn’t deserve this, she thought. None of them deserved this. Nobody deserved this.
She couldn’t think straight. Her head was pounding. Her mouth was full of vomit and shit. She just wanted out.
Her friend, Jenny, was also dead. She (Jenny) was attached to her (Lindsay’s) ass. Lindsay held her shit just so her friend wouldn’t suffer (as much), to the displeasure of Dr. Heiter.
Dr. Heiter.
The man who had sewn them mouth to ass, who made them into a single digestive tract, which ultimately failed. It failed because the unwilling test subjects had died, one by one.
He described the human centipede as a beautiful creation.
It was disgusting. Unethical. Shitty, literally and figuratively.
Lindsay collapsed, hands going limp. Her heart started beating slower and slower and slower. She didn’t mind this. It was better than being in the middle of 2 rotting corpses.
Her eyes closed as she succumbed - almost gleefully - to her death. She wished she had died more peacefully, but alas, she wasn’t suffering anymore.
warning for body horror. also this is very short and doesn't feel complete, i just needed to pump something out tbh lol
Ashlyn gasps for air. The only thing she can taste is her own blood. She can only feel the grime, dirt and sweat on her naked body, and the corpse that is connected to her arse. Her head hangs down low as she prepares for Martin to slit her throat.
He gingerly tucks her hair behind her ear and puts the knife to her neck. He hesitates, though. This was unlike the other people he had killed.
He steps back.
Neither of them are sure why he’s so hesitant, yet Ashlyn looks up at Martin with a pleading expression. They don’t say a word. They can’t say a word.
Martin looks down at her with a sympathetic expression. He caresses her hair, eyes welling up. Ashlyn was silently telling him to not kill her, even though she didn’t want to be alive anymore.
“Remember when we would look at the moon on the summer to see it had turned peach?”
A young girl, about 12, asked her twin sister. She wore her purple hair in pigtails that were tied with two bright yellow bands that had red plastic flowers on them. She wore a bright yellow dress with red frills to complement them.
Her sister nodded, smiling fondly. It was a tight fond smile. It was probably because they had gotten injured the other day, causing their arm to get broken.
“Vividly,” they replied, eyes half lidded due to exhaustion. They sat up in a more comfortable position on the hospital bed they laid on. Their hair was messy and the same purple their sibling’s hair was. “It was like us. Peach and Moon. I’m Peach and you’re Moon.”
Peach looked up at its sister’s red eyes. It had the same eyes, though one of them was covered with a bandage. “Does that make sense?”
Moon giggled. “Of course it does!”
Moon looked at her watch and gasped. It was 5:30 PM. “Shit, gotta go. See ya!”
She ran out the door, waving goodbye to Peach. There was a warm smile on her face it was all too familiar with. The same face that reminded it that she did care, that she was the only person that actually cared.
Peach’s tight smile went back to her usual thin line. Moon had changed. Why was she treating her with so much kindness and care? Did she actually feel sympathy for her? Was this one of her manipulation tactics?
Peach didn’t know. They weren’t sure if they wanted to know. They shook their head.
Looking to their right, they noticed that the IV wasn’t connected to them anymore. They raised an eyebrow. Maybe now was the time to leave, they thought.
They got up from the hospital bed, still wearing the gown they had been given when they first entered. They looked down at their bandaged arm, which was held by a cloth.
It exited the hospital and entered the colorful city that was its home. It inhaled the fresh air. It felt so good to be outside again.
Maryelle awoke in a cold sweat, panting. She held a hand up to her pounding head, sliding it down to her pounding heart - she miscalculated for a minute and ended up accidentally sliding it to her chest, though upon realizing that she did, she immediately slid it to her heart.
“it was just a nightmare,” she reassured herself. “it didn’t actually happen.”
Se looked around hir room, realizing that this wasn’t hir room. Se didn’t live across the school, nor did se sleep next to a nightstand. Hir eyes widened.
“where the fuck am i?” They asked themself.
Their hands shook and their head and heart pounded even more. The only thing that was theirs was their yellow nightgown, which had a rabbit on it wearing sunglasses. It said “wake me up when I’m famous.”
There was loud music playing from the school (which, obviously, didn’t make anything better). They tried to distract themself from the music so they could find a way to get out of their predicament by looking at the wall next to them.
She noticed the paint of “her” wall flaking away. She touched the wall to reassure herself she was dreaming, that she wasn’t actually there, but it was oh-so very real.
She flinched when the heard people screaming bloody murder. Se started to panic again, but se started to panic even more when se heard someone running up the stairs.
In a rush, Maryelle ran to “hir” bedroom door and locked it, kneeling down in front of it and shutting hir eyes shut. please let this be a bad dream, was the only coherent thought they had.
The last moment they were in that room was a blur.
They heard glass breaking and held themself tighter, yet somehow found themself standing. Someone had grabbed their hand and was leading them somewhere. They couldn’t tell who - their eyes were shut tight, they would never open again.
Next thing she knew, she was at the party. She wasn’t alone.
People were dancing to loud techno music. They were bumping her around like she was a bouncy ball. That’s all she felt like to them - a simple bouncy ball made out of flesh and hair. Judging by the feeling on her feet, she knew she was in the gym.
Maryelle managed to find a way to slip out of the gym, trying to navigate hir way to the bathrooms. Se was blind now. There was nothing se could do about that.
Se finally found a bathroom, though it was nothing like the school bathrooms at all. It was the very same bathroom from her home - with the pink fuzzy carpet and all.
Se looked (or, would’ve looked) hirself in the mirror. Se gripped the sink in desperation to ground hirself.
“i’m not at the party,” they tried to reassure themself. “i’m home. this is just a bad dream. i’m home.”
They knew that wasn’t true.
They navigated their way out of the bathroom, but upon exiting, they found themself in the gym again. This time it was empty.
There was only dust on the floor where people were before. The dream wouldn’t leave her head. She needed a drink. Her head pounded.
She jumped slightly when she stepped on a half empty bottle (which, thank Duo, was plastic). She stepped off of it and tried to pick it up, only to find it had disappeared.
The rain outside alarmed her once more. God, why was she so jumpy all of the sudden? She knew why, actually.
Se kneeled down and groaned when hir pounding head became a headache. Tears formed in hir eyes. When would se get a break?
Maryelle’s groans of pain turned into screams as hir fingers grew long and hir hands grew strong. Hir flesh turned an olive green and hir hair turned a dark green. There were wings growing from hir back, tearing hir now light green nightgown up. Se felt something floating over hir head, which se soon realized was a halo. Se was in so much pain - when would it end? Oh, god, please make it end. She covered her eyes, but they were already shut so tight.
The pain was numb now. Maryelle uncovered her closed eyes. What did they look like now? They didn’t even want to know.
As soon as they got themself up from the ground, the party-goers were back. Their cheers turned into taunting laughter while they tried to pull Marylle into the crowd.
Maryelle started running towards the exit. They couldn’t think straight, all they knew is that they had to get out. The crowd only tried to pull them back in more.
They ran and ran until they felt like they were falling through a hole. They screamed. All they could even do was just scream. They were so terrified.
Maryelle awoke again, but she couldn’t open her eyes. She felt the all too familiar floor of the abandoned arcade she died in. “so that wasn’t a dream,” she thought aloud.
She pinched her skin. Yep, it was real alright. She skittered towards the window she had entered through. She knew the layout of this place like she knew the back of her hand, somehow.
Se felt the cool air on hir skin. Was it still nighttime? Hir “eyesight” wasn’t bright, so se assumed so.
I’ve never been the type to go to church. I’ve never prayed for anyone but Rhonda.
I pray for her each night and I dream that one day it’ll catch her ear. I always do it around the time she falls asleep, while her chest rises as she breathes. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. She was just as beautiful when she was sleeping as when she was awake.
I tend to fall asleep after I pray. I always fell asleep later than Rhonda, though. I used to not be able to sleep at all but when I finally started living with him I found myself falling asleep earlier and earlier. I suppose sleeping with someone calms you down after a few hours of being awake and doing things, especially when they’re close to you.
“G’night,” Rhonda would say, in the same way every night.
“Goodnight,” I would say back, in the same way every night. I stayed up for a few more minutes though.
In the morning, Rhonda woke up first. Xe heard the church bells before I did. Usually, we wouldn’t be hearing the choir singing, but it was almost Christmas, and people were singing their Christmas carols before the aurora borealis hit.
They usually sang about Santa Claus, or how great God was, or how someone’s grandma died. Sometimes they were annoying, sometimes they were sad, and sometimes they were downright annoying. Despite that we often found ourselves singing those carols to ourselves.
Rhonda gently shook me and whispered in my ear, “Get out of bed, you sleepyhead.”
I rubbed my eyes before opening them. I looked at him sleepily.
“G’morning,” he said in the same way he said “g’night.”
“Good morning,” I said in the same way I said “goodnight.”
We both stretched and yawned, getting out of bed.
“How did you sleep?” Rhonda asked.
“I slept well,” I mumbled. I felt well-rested. “How did you sleep?”
She smiled. “I’m glad. I slept well too.”
I remember the one time I went to church. I was 14 years old. It was completely empty except for me. The sun went through the colored glass windows which depicted many scenes - an angel of death with long hair holding a baby. A man and a woman kissing. The same picture but with two women and two men. The same picture except the man had a vagina and the woman had a penis.
I felt so odd, so far from God. At the same time, I saw God in those windows. So I kneeled down in front of the window of the two women kissing and I prayed.
I prayed for Rhonda. I prayed that she would be ok. I prayed that we would be together. I prayed for her despite not knowing how prayers went.
“Uhm, God, or whoever’s up or down there,” I started. “Please make Rhonda have a good day today, and please don’t make her forget I’m her friend. Amen.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just wanted her to be ok.
That was 7 years ago now. I still prayed with the same exact wording every night.
“Hello? You there?”
I shook my head, snapping out of my daze. “Sorry, I was spaced out.”
Rhonda laughed. “It’s fine.”
We just sat in bed and didn't talk for a bit. We weren’t ready to get out yet. I didn’t mind, I liked it here. I set my hand on xyr hand.
Nova asked Bucky the question teasingly, earning a giggle from Nova’s friend in response. there was a bit of blush on her cheeks, though.
“Oooh, no I don’t,” she replied, pretending to be some pretty lady at a bar. they both giggled.
“HEY! thatz my girl >:^(,” Wendy joined in, pretending to be some buff guy who was dating the pretty lady.
their giggles soon turned into bursts of laughter, though one thought kept pressing Nova. why can’t she be our girl?
it was a joke, yes, but Nova found Novaself thinking about Wendy and Bucky a little too much. Nova thought about kissing them, holding them, saying “i love you” to them…
when their laughter calmed down, Nova’s smile turned into a thoughtful one. it was the same one Nova usually had when Nova was planning something, though it felt different. Nova looked down at the camera Nova was holding. it was covered in sparkly stickers. sparkly smiley faces, sparkly flowers, sparkly stars, things that reminded Nova of Nova’s friends.
“iz everything ok, Nova?” Wendy asked Nova, a somewhat worried expression on sheir face. Nova snapped out of Nova’s trance.
“oh, i’m fine,” Nova replied, smiling once more. “just deep in thought.”
there was a pink tint on Nova’s freckled cheeks.
Wendy hoped it was about shem. star often thought about marrying stars friends, about kissing them, the same things Nova thought of. there was a purple tint on its furred cheeks now.
“Wait, before we forget,” Bucky shouted out, changing the mood quickly. it was never sad, just yearnful. Pinful?
Are those even words? Bucky asked herself.
if they were, they perfectly described how she felt. he thought about kissing his friends, holding them, reading stories about love to them while their legs were all tangled together, calling them sweet little petnames like “darling” and “sweetheart” and “honeycomb.” things he wanted to be called.
they all huddled together, with Bucky being on Nova’s right and Wendy being on Nova’s left, like how it always was.
how it always was.
“yknow,” Wendy started. “ppl say that the person in the middle of a photo die first!”
“shaddup,” Nova giggled, gently nudging star in the shoulder.
“im just sayin! :3c”
they all giggled together, before Nova said “ok, ok, let’s get this done and over with,” and they huddled together again.
Nova held the colorful camera up. on the screen, it showed the date, which was 04/08/2005 (April 8th, 2005). Nova’s birthday.
“say sweet 13!” Nova yelled, grinning.
“Sweet 13!”
Nova pressed the button at the top, the light from the camera flashing in their eyes. Bucky blinked. that was ok though, it didn’t ruin the picture. the picture was perfect.
the camera printed the photo, Nova grabbing it. Wendy and Bucky looked at it intently.
“Aw shoot, I blinked,” Bucky whined, Wendy snickering in response.
“at least u looked cute doing it >:3,” Wendy giggled.
Nova smiled. it was a warm smile. “this is the best birthday ever.”
