Friday, December 23, 2016

The Stitcher of Souls - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Kathunk Kathunk – hearts beating

Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk
Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk
(everything in my mind faded away)
Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk
Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk
(nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing)
Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk
Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk
(nothing but the soft brushes on my face and the red strings that–)
Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk
Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk Kathunk
(nothing, nothing, nothing, but the white light nearing)

Quinn was unshelled.
And she walked into the brightly lit room.
The red strings came down in straight thin lines but not all of them were connected to a body. Yes, a body, for there were the Hearts walking in a perfect row by the long table that stretched out over the entire length of that brightly lit room. Heart formed chairs were placed before it, its colour a pulsing bright red; as if the strings connected to the chairs had blood running through them, filling the hearts that pumped it out again.
The Hearts didn’t have that, though: the strings were just strings that led each of them to a chair, each of them synchronically.
The strings led Quinn to her chair, synchronically with the others.
Like the others she was facing a mirror.
Meanwhile the visitors to the theatre were dripping in, one by one. Like the Hearts, they were stripped down of their mind and their feelings, of their consciousness (or were they brought to a state of pure consciousness?) and the red strings that pierced through their bodies led them to a specific seat. Unlike the Hearts, they were truly empty, nothing but a soul. (or Soul?) The Hearts were far from empty. They were simply closer to their radiant and vivid core that defined their whole being.
Quinn was not empty, simply much closer to her radiant and vivid core that defined her whole being.
Quinn, like the Hearts seated beside her, knew who she was.
While they waited, some of the red strings started to move towards the Hearts. They curled their eyelashes a bit more, took care of the tiny smudges on their painted faces, combed a bit through their hair.
The girl on Quinn’s left had her sky blue hair combed through carefully, avoiding the glittering, tiny diamonds placed in it and the detailed braid that was placed around the back of her head.
Her face was barely painted, just a few curling white stripes on her cheeks, but her entire body was an artwork. They had painted thick and thin stripes on her chest and arms. Between them ringlets and circles dyed in a silvery white made a long chain on the entire length of her body; the ones on her arms were much smaller than on her chest and legs. And her stomach had a beautiful rose on it.
She wore a long silken vest that looked soft and flowy, even though she simply sat there and barely moved an inch. Her most intimate parts were covered with real white roses and she wore bracelets that tinkled with a very soft and soothing sound.
She was, truly, serenity itself.
The girl on Quinn’s right had her body sprayed on with a glittering substance.
She obediently – though without a mind – removed her gloves from her arms and spread them out. She closed her eyes as the strings sprayed it on her face and moved it around so it could get everywhere.
She never changed her tight posture while she moved.
She wore a ball gown colored in a soft gold with sparling diamonds and her skirt was majestic. But even though she sat in that chair, it was never made to look more majestic than she was. Though she could not want, she would not allow it so.
Her ball gown had a collar that was fan-shaped and gave her something queenly. The silver tiara on her head made the image complete with the tight bun of her auburn hair.
The tight and severe expression on her face made her look even prouder.
Her pride, in fact, was quite overwhelming.
Quinn herself, on the other hand, wasn’t being fixed up by the red strings. They were actually trying to make her behave. As the curious child she was, she had let loose a few of her own threads to take a look at the Hearts, studying them as if they were exotic animals. The red strings kept pulling them back. Carefully, for they might fight back fiercely and have Quinn herself turn into something beastly.
Yes, Quinn could change. Yes, Quinn was not to be compared to any of the Hearts in this brightly lit room.
For she looked like a puppet cut out of glowing, pulsing white paper, who had its own white strings rather the red ones.
For she looked like a ball of yarn, loosely put together, making it seem like an oval or another weird shape. Some moments she took the form of a naughty little fox and, if the red strings pulled to hard, the form of a tiger or a bear or a gigantic mythical creature like chimaera or no – actually, she liked to make up her own gigantic creatures. Even though she had no mind.
She could turn into a silent, lazy panda. Or a silent lion, in a very tight posture.
Or a calm dove, staring into the mirror.
Then the mirrors started moving back and forth. The red strings that were fixing up the Hearts quickly, moved away quickly, but the red strings that pierced through them were being pulled even tighter.
The mirrors started to bounce, to twist and turn, to break and even burn before they shattered into bright red hearts.
The hearts fell to the ground slowly, and moved in a spastic way towards the heart formed chairs.
The hearts made them get up from the ground through the holes where the mirrors used to be.

The Hearts were led to stage.

And what will happen on that stage? See for yourself in chapter 5 of The Stitcher of Souls!
See you on the next page! <3

[PIC ORIGIN: ; made by MARIday]

Thursday, December 8, 2016

Giggles in Grown up clothing

The first thing I see when I walk down the stairs are the variaty of legs.
Yes, legs; legs as long as mine, as covered in cloth and legs as bare as theirs, a little piece of black on the top or with many holes in the covering cloth which is always branded with "Hollister" or something like that. And how dark it is up there, above those legs. I mean, yes,
they have long legs, beautiful and healthy ones, able to lift the upperbody high up in the sky. But not beyond the atmosphere, right?
I get a bit closer to them and ah, I see now! It's the smoke. Very thick, too - all their pretty faces that took them ages to bring to perfection this morning are almost entirely hidden!
Well, it is more about the bombs anyway - the faces are, hm, what should I say? The battle cry? Or more like an admirable painting? Or a sausage, perhaps, looking very, very and I mean very tasty - If you know what I mean, guys. *wink* *wink*
It's hard to tell, since their munition is the same, the same bombs are thrown, used in the same way. It's a never ending cycle of bomb throwing. hard to get through, or more like - I'm unwilling to get through. Other outsiders, like to watch, though.
But if we could just see inside the sausage and the sausage-making, then we'd probably know whether it was battle cry or not.
Ironically, they hate using bombs or more like, they're scared that the bombs might explode in their hands and not in someone else's so that they can claim victory and laugh, but at the same time they need the bomb throwing to feel alive.
*Cough* *Cough* This smoke is suffocating! God, how do they keep this up?!
Then I see that the smoke which seems thick enough to make them invisible for each other, isn't as thick for outsiders.
They're giggling while throwing their bombs, but their not keeping up.
They're pretending to. Desperately.
We might find it annoying, but they are dying. And it's their own fault.

I don't understand and I shake my head.
I continue walking down the stairs and then through the hallway. It's a bright, colorful path I walk and I barely recognize the darkness and giggles from above anymore.
For the brightness of my own path and the rainbows above, the giggling of pixies and animals and the people from fantasyland are filling my head.
Whether their giggles are better than the giggles in grown up clothing, I do not know.
But I do think they're nicer to listen to. Although I'm the only one who hears them.

Hehehe, o, you cute dog...O MY GOD A PANDA... NO NO NO - I DON'T WANNA FLYYY-AAHHH--
Erhem. Sorry. As you can see, I totally can't relate to the "I" in this story. Erhem. Nope. Not at all.
See you on the next page.


Wednesday, December 7, 2016

The Stitcher of Souls - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Mad tiny guys, mad talking birds and mad hearts

Aaanddd… I was still stuck at Guna Plaza.
With these six gigantic, beautiful, mad buildings around me, though not as truly mad as all that I had to witness before which had made my head turn red and had made incomprehensible words escape my mouth. Yeah, not one of my most charming moments.
Sigh, Quinn. Shut up and do something useful.
Right! Something useful.
So these six buildings. I walked a bit around the fountain, careful not to get to the part of the plaza where people were still walking in those strange rows and where the fireballs were still thrown from here and there. Nope, I wasn’t ready to mingle with these strange citizens yet.
Not that I ever will be – oh my god, won’t you look at that! How? Just how?
My jaw almost fell open by the sight of these three buildings. They were so simple but so special at the same time. They were kind of the same, I mean they all looked ancient they had the same kind of doors and like a pathway leading to those doors, lined with pillars, they were all tall and ooh – they looked like those mausoleums, from the Romans (yes, I do pay attention in class), only then from time when they did look pretty.
There was only one difference – their color: blue, red and black. And there was something with these colors. I had no idea what or how, but they were just so… there. So unmissably there. Even blind person would see them! (I think)
And now comes the weird part – were they each shone on by their own color?!
Through the streets twirling above them, a, well, divine sounds quite appropriate here, so a divine light shone on each of the buildings.
There was blue holy light for the, well, blue one which was called the… Indigo Institute of Intellectuals, pressed in the upper part of the building with gold – divine gold, hehe. Red for the red one which was called the Crimson Centrum of Civilians. Crimson? As in… Crimson Chin?! (Hehe, Fairly Odd Parents reference – whoop whoop) And black – wait, black? Yes black! – for the black one which was called… the Black Bar for Barbarians? Barbarians, huh – not my place to be.
But, no, there wasn’t any useful stuff here. So I teared my eyes of those divine buildings and started exploring the other half of the plaza.
There was some sort of Colosseum-like building which had its name beaming in neon light above it: the Theatre of Hearts. A gigantic library stuck out there, too, which, of course, was called the Giants’ Library. Perhaps I could find something useful there…
In the middle was this really big castle, which was like really white and there were like spades all over it. And it had towers shaped like a spade and a spade-formed entrance – it was big a spade! But it wasn’t as cool as the other stuff, though, so I didn’t look at it for too long.
Not that I was able to, when there were beeps and bells all around me and people walking around and – through me?! AGAIN?
I scurried back to the big cocoon, still cold as ever, and shook my head. Good. Good good good. Good good goooooooooooooooddddd.
I am completely naked under this coat. I need to find clothes. Then I need to go to that library. And then I’ll see what I can find. Ready? Go.
And there was the first problem. Where do I find these clothes? For free. Without stealing them. Scratch that – if stealing is what I must do, then I shall do it.
Someoneeeee! Help meeeee! Not that internally screaming would help meee!
Okay. Okaayyyy.
I died. There was a knife and it was doing strange things in my body and I stopped breathing. So I died and I shouldn’t be here, because I’m dead and dead people aren’t alive. So why was I alive? Why did I end up here? How did I end up here? Why is this place so mad? Why did that damned guy leave me? Why were there fireballs? Why were there divine buildings that looked like mausoleums? Why were all these buildings so big and abnormal? Why were these people walking so weird?
Why was I asking myself these random questions? I was making myself suspicious – hold it – when I was supposed to figure it out on my own, because I’m not weak or incapable – Hold. It. – but this place is too mad and were the people watching me, was I going to be followed and killed again and die for good – Quinn, hold it – and could I survive anyway?
I started walking towards some building, like I knew what I was doing, like I knew this place, like I wasn’t naked and hadn’t just risen from the dead. I clenched my fists and looked forward as if that building was my destination. I didn’t bump into anyone, I waited when a dancing carriage flew by and ducked when some kid threw his fireball towards me. I froze when I heard the voice, saying: “I know you’re naked.” The tiny, squeaky voice started giggling and pulled my sleeve, pulling me down, while a male voice said through gritted teeth: “Get down here, you damned bird.”
Then her grip loosened and I immediately turned around to face the creepy – tiny guy with a bird in his hands? The guy was wearing a black suit with green patches on the shoulders. He also wore a big hat with his red, bushy hair underneath that basically surrounded his tiny chubby head and came down in a beard. He wore a warm smile and that red nose of his was pretty cute.
But that was only what he looked like – I still had to be careful. Pay attention, Quinn.
The bird in his clenched fist, squeaked ‘lemme go! Lemme go!’, but the guy didn’t do as much as blink at his desperate protests. Then he moved his hand to the inside of his jacket where he seemed to put the bird away. So this little guy had a bird who could talk and who knew that I was naked. Huh.
But –
Shut up. Focus!
The guy kept smiling at me. “Don’t mind her, girl. She simply doesn’t know how to act appropriately.”
His smile suddenly faded and he drew closer. When he had made sure that no one was looking, he waved at me to lean in. I did, carefully.
“Well, you know,” he said, “if you’re planning to go the theatre, you can’t just walk in there wearing only a coat. And,” he looked around him again and continued on an even softer tone, “I’ve seen you with him, so I feel obliged to help you. Don’t worry – I won’t tell anyone. We just need to go through the back door where you can get to the dressing rooms.”
I didn’t have the chance to say something, because he was already pulling through the rows of people to theatre which was the building I seemed to be headed to.
Play along, but run away when it gets dangerous. Get out once you have the clothes. Don’t speak unless asked and don’t show any kind of emotion. You understand? Yes.
We quickly disappeared into a dark alleyway where the sun didn’t seem to shine. In fact, we were turning corners under a very dark sky. Soon we reached an alley where the wall across us climbed up in the sky where a color bomb had exploded into the letters T, H, E, A. The wall of the Theatre of… I couldn’t remember. Doesn’t matter. Don’t think about it. Just go.
The guy seemed to know exactly where he was headed and pulled me even further into the maze of alleyways.
Then we reached a lit part of the alley. Heart-formed lights were placed on the wall across us and a dark red carpet was laid out before us and turned around the corner. We ended up before a heart-formed entrance, carved out of a brick wall. The guy let go of my hand and looked at me with his vicious yellow eyes. It seemed as though his face had grown darker and his chubby face slimmer and pointier. His nose had grown longer and crooked. His hands had turned into claws.
And his voice sounded gruff as he said, “Go on, then.”
I did as he said.
Play along, get the clothes and get out.
Past the entrance, was an extremely red hallway. Dark red walls and red heart-formed lights on them. The red carpet went on here and led to another heart-formed door.
The dark version of the tiny guy, appeared next to me and pointed at the door.
Play along, get the clothes and get out.
Play along, get the clothes and get out.
Play along, get the clothes and get out.
I took a quick breath and walked towards it.

My mind quieted down and was empty, hidden behind a fog.
I didn’t hear my footsteps, breath or feel the presence of the dark tiny guy lurking behind me.
I just saw the door coming closer and closer.
I saw my hand reaching the doorknob –
It turned –
The door creaked and opened –
Hands flashed out –
Quickly, madly, roughly they reached –
Pulled me in –
I screamed –
Hands around my body, my face –
My mouth –


That's the end of chapter 3 of The Stitcher of Souls... 
See you on the next page!
[PIC ORIGIN: , made by Neolucky]