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)
Kathunk
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: http://www.deviantart.com/art/heart-35301828 ; made by MARIday]
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