03-18-2026, 09:10 PM
dropping little reels of tape to remind me that i'm alone
playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
The eerie, not right voice comes from the stranger again and his ears twitch in response. It depends on what made them. He does not know what that means, exactly. What made him?
He is made from nothing good, exactly, but he doesn't know that. He knows pain, wobbly limbs that do not seem to obey, and an empty feeling that his mother should have filled before escaping to live her life and leaving him to the buzzards.
"What makes us? What makes someone dead?" He asked inquisitively. What questions. Only hours old and already asking the big things to this otherworldly stranger. "I have a mom." The boy stated. Had would have been a better word to use, but he doesn't know she isn't returning. Instinct tells him she will come back - that's what mothers do, right? Good mothers, but his mother is Krieg, and she is not remotely close to the category of a good mother.
Does he feel dead? His eyes blinked slowly at the question as he wondered what he felt. "What is dead supposed to feel like?" The boy asked softly. He glanced down at his bloodied knees again. The liquid was no longer escaping the rips in his skin but crusted and dark. "That hurt when I fell..." His voice trailed off as he suddenly felt sad. Something deep told him he shouldn't have been left to fall and bleed entirely alone.
But she had left him. So perhaps he was dead. Perhaps he is an illusion and none of this is even reality.
The sight of his crusted knees began to blur a bit as something watery filled his eyes. He blinked the liquid away quickly and returned his orange gaze back to the creature that had discovered him. "Are you dead? Where are we?" That would explain it all for the boy. He was dead, this creature was dead, and his mother hadn't abandoned him.
He is made from nothing good, exactly, but he doesn't know that. He knows pain, wobbly limbs that do not seem to obey, and an empty feeling that his mother should have filled before escaping to live her life and leaving him to the buzzards.
"What makes us? What makes someone dead?" He asked inquisitively. What questions. Only hours old and already asking the big things to this otherworldly stranger. "I have a mom." The boy stated. Had would have been a better word to use, but he doesn't know she isn't returning. Instinct tells him she will come back - that's what mothers do, right? Good mothers, but his mother is Krieg, and she is not remotely close to the category of a good mother.
Does he feel dead? His eyes blinked slowly at the question as he wondered what he felt. "What is dead supposed to feel like?" The boy asked softly. He glanced down at his bloodied knees again. The liquid was no longer escaping the rips in his skin but crusted and dark. "That hurt when I fell..." His voice trailed off as he suddenly felt sad. Something deep told him he shouldn't have been left to fall and bleed entirely alone.
But she had left him. So perhaps he was dead. Perhaps he is an illusion and none of this is even reality.
The sight of his crusted knees began to blur a bit as something watery filled his eyes. He blinked the liquid away quickly and returned his orange gaze back to the creature that had discovered him. "Are you dead? Where are we?" That would explain it all for the boy. He was dead, this creature was dead, and his mother hadn't abandoned him.
ghoulish
@
jamie