Untitled again...

"A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down... medicine go down... medicine go down..." The scavenger sang quietly to herself as she squeezed herself through a small hole in the charred debris that blocked the hallway. It was an old habit that resurfaced whenever she was feeling stressed or nervous.

 

 

 

She tried to remind herself that she was being silly, that there was no reason for anxiety. Even though the ruined building felt like a haunted mansion from a cheesy horror movie, it was located in the middle of the city, in a neighbourhood that was just rich enough to have streetlights. On even intervals pale light hit the wooden floor, reminding her that she could get out in just a few seconds if she wanted to.

 

 

 

Before the fire the building had been a small four-story clinic, built to service the poor during the time of the great depression. To save money only the first floor had been built in brickwork, the rest had been all wood around an iron frame. When the fire had broken out in a circuit box on the fourth floor it spread rapidly, catching everyone inside by surprise.

 

 

 

At first the media had eagerly pounced on the latest tragedy, but just a week later public interest had passed, the charred bodies were recovered and the scandal of years of neglected safety measures was covered up. All that remained was a charred husk waiting to be torn down and replaced.

 

 

 

But not before the scavenger had picked it clean. It had seemed a welcome break from common burglary. No guards, no dogs, no alarms. She knew exactly what she was looking for. A few bottles of thick brown glass already rested in the bag she had hung over her shoulders, containing prescription painkillers and sedatives that would fetch as great price on the black market. Collecting them had been a simple matter of going from ward to ward, breaking open the metal cabinets and taking whatever seemed valuable. She was surprised at how easy it had been so far, even if the building seemed to get darker, more threatening with every step she took. The top three floors had all but collapsed onto the ground floor, but so far she had been small enough to squeeze her way past any obstacle.

 

 

 

"...in the most delightful way." She finished the song just as her right leg finally came free from the rubble she had been crawling through. She made a vain attempt at dusting herself off before turning her flashlight back on, casting its yellow glow down the hallway.

 

 

 

A cracked glass doorway revealed a shadowy stairwell. A partially molten plastic sign that had once hung from the ceiling revealed that beyond the ruined stairs upwards would be what was left of the blood bank. Even if it wasn't impossible to get up there she wouldn't have bothered, simply because there probably wouldn't be anything of value. The bottom half of the sign read 'morgue', with an arrow pointing downwards besides it. That was more interesting. There wouldn't be drugs, but the scavenger guessed that whatever a corpse had on it when it was brought in here would have to be stored somewhere.

 

 

 

For a while common sense and common greed clashed over whether or not she should go down into the unlit basement. In the end, common greed won. With one hand firmly wrapped around her flashlight and the other clinging to the railing she began her descent. "A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down..."

 

 

 

She had made it almost halfway down when she was painfully reminded that she should've gone with common sense. With an angry snap the step she had just planted her right foot on disappeared from underneath her. Reflexively she stumbled forward, but she miscalculated the height of her next step by several inches. Before she could readjust her balance she tumbled down the rest of the way, seemingly hitting every remaining step with at least three parts of her body. Her fall finally came to an end when she smashed face-first into the concrete surface of the clinic's foundation, which also served as the basement floor. Her flashlight had suffered a fatal blow somewhere along the way, but now a different darkness overcame her.

 

 

 

When she woke up again a feeling of extreme nausea quickly overwhelmed her, and she just barely managed to keep the contents of her stomach under control. A throbbing pain surged through her face in rhythm with her heartbeat. She removed her leather gloves and carefully probed her face. Her chin and lips were covered in filth and dried blood. She soon enough found out where the blood had come from. She winced involuntarily when she brushed against her nose, and the throbbing got stronger. She swallowed a knot in her throat, trying to keep her breathing steady even though her nose was a broken and bloody mess. When she finally felt steady enough she reached down. From a small compartment in the side of her knee-high boot she pulled a spare flashlight. With a beam that was significantly smaller than the one from her regular light she scanned her surroundings.

 

 

 

The first thing she looked for was her spoils bag. She found it lying a few feet away from her. To her relief the glass of the medicine bottles had resisted the fall. The next thing she looked for was her flashlight. It was lying on the bottom step. She picked it up, shaking it a few times before turning it off and on again. When it refused to light up she tossed it aside. She hung her bag back over her shoulder. All she wanted now was to get home.

 

 

 

However, the clinic had decided against that. At several points where the brunt of her weight had struck against them steps were either cracked or had fallen away completely. There was no way the stairs were going to support her. She had to fight back a surge of panic. She managed to stay calm by repeatedly reminding herself that there would have to be other ways out of the basement; at the very least there'd be an elevator shaft she could use to climb back up.

 

 

 

She turned around, carefully scanning the passage ahead. In front of her she could see an outline of herself where she had lost consciousness, a pool of blood from her nose indicating where her head had been. To her horror, the edges of the pool were blurred, as if small tongues had been lapping at it. She could see small footprints. Rats. She shivered at the thought of what they would've done to her if she had remained unconscious much longer.

 

 

 

She hesitantly took a step forward. Nothing happened. Another step, and still nothing. She let out a small sigh of relief, but couldn't quite muster the confidence she had had before her fall. Her surroundings weren't helping. The only light in the windowless hallways came from her flashlight. Even though the soles of her boots were padded there still was a small echo with every step she took. Even her own breathing was deafening.

 

 

 

With every step she took the darkness seemed to press down harder until it was almost suffocating. She tried singing to herself, but she barely managed more than a hoarse whisper. The hallways seemed endless, with no sign of an exit. She wished she had brought pebbles, or even breadcrumbs, anything to mark her route, to tell her that she wasn't walking in circles.

 

 

 

And then there was light. At first she thought her eyes were deceiving her, that she was going insane. Still, she felt her feet hurrying their pace, instinctively drawn to the strange glow like a moth to a flame. She turned around the corner, hoping and praying that whatever cast the light could somehow help her escape the catacombs she was trapped in.

 

 

 

Just barely visible at the end of the hallway was a set of double doors. Light spilled out from underneath and through the small round windows that were placed just above eye level. The light combined with that of her flashlight to make the sign above the door just barely readable: 'morgue'.

 

 

 

The scavenger stopped dead in her tracks. Light in the morgue meant that there had to be somebody there. She tried to figure out who could be down there, but none of the possibilities she came up with seemed even remotely plausible. Then, for a reason she couldn't quite grasp, she started walking and singing again, her steps more confident and her voice stronger.

 

 

 

She pushed the double doors aside to step into the room beyond. It was almost completely empty, except for a metal trolley which was standing in the middle of the floor. One wall was completely covered in square metal doors, but no bodies were stored here anymore. Everything seemed perfectly normal, aside from the fact that there was a light without a source floating in the middle of the room. "...a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down..."

 

 

 

"...in the most delightful way... That's your song, isn't it? I've been listening to you since you walked into my territory."

 

 

 

The scavenger wheeled around, eyes wide. Just hearing a voice now would've been terrifying, but this voice sounded like nothing of this world. It was as if it sang and spoke on two octaves at once. "Who... are... you...?"

 

 

 

"But you didn't know, of course. Still, I don't mind. They took away the bodies before I moved in. I didn't expect fresh meat so soon, although my pets told me you're... tainted."

 

 

 

Although the voice seemed to ignore her, something in the room was changing. The scavenger felt as though she was trapped by the invisible presence that was talking to her. She tried to turn around, but her feet seemed glued to the ground. Her fingers trembled, just barely able to hold onto the flashlight.

 

 

 

"You want to see me. Why? When she knows it's too late to escape, the gazelle doesn't want to see the lion. She just wants to be eaten quickly."

 

 

 

"I'm not a gazelle!" the scavenger blurted out.

 

 

 

"No, you're human. But you are to me what the gazelle is to the lion... or the mouse to the cat I suppose. Playing with my food has always been a bad habit that's... hard to shake. Still, it's been a while since I talked to someone... besides my pets that is. Tell me, what is your name?"

 

 

 

"L-linda..."

 

 

 

"Linda. Unsurprisingly common. Let me get a closer look." A cold wind seemed to pass through the room, chilling Linda deeply. "Greed... I should've guessed. Nothing else could possibly motivate you to come to this desolate place. I guess greed is also the reason you decided to come down here? Funny, I thought corpse looting went out of fashion years ago." Linda struggled to swallow the knot in her throat. Suddenly she felt her bag glide off her shoulder. She strained her neck in an attempt to look around but all she got for her troubles was a cramp. She could hear the fabric shift and the clinking of the bottles.

 

 

 

"I suppose these... concoctions are worth some money these days? Modern medicine is such a poor substitute for alchemy. I guess I'll never know why you humans gave up on what little magical power you had in exchange for this soulless sterile substitute."

 

 

 

"Because alchemy is a load of obsolete hocus-pocus that never worked to begin with?" The words slipped from Linda's mouth before she could control herself. As soon as she had finished the sentence the temperature in the room dropped a full twenty degrees. The voice replied, but all the playfulness was cut from its multi-octave malice.

 

 

 

"You seem to have a lot of confidence in the value of these drugs. Why don't we find out if they were worth coming down here for?"

 

 

 

Linda felt a viselike arm wrap itself around her neck, roughly cutting off her breathing. In the dim light she could just barely make out a pale hand protruding from the sleeve of a lab coat as it dragged her backwards. She wanted to scream but all she could force out of her mouth was a terrified squeak. Suddenly the arm around her neck wrenched backward, roughly pulling her off her feet. She landed on a slab of cold metal. She went dizzy for a moment, but the fresh air rushing back into her lungs soon brought her back to her senses. Then she finally saw her captor face to face.

 

 

 

It was a woman, impossibly pale and thin. Sleek black hair hung loosely around shoulders that just barely supported a lab coat that was several sizes too big. Underneath the coat there was a dress of red velvet. It showed dark stains in several places, and Linda could guess what caused them. The face of her captor was dominated by lips straining to hold back a mess of teeth. The entire lower half was covered in a crimson mask of dried blood, almost drawing her attention away from the soulless black holes that were resting where eyes should have been.

 

 

 

When she spoke again, the teeth were all Linda could see. "When did you humans lose your valour? Your kind has grown soft in your hard concrete shells. In time I will crack those shells open to suck out the sweet meat inside."

 

 

 

Linda could feel two cold hands grab onto the tight fitting black shirt she wore. Her body refused to struggle as the creature tore it away, exposing her chest to the cold air of the morgue and her back to the cold steel of the slab. A shiver ran down her spine, caused by a combination of cold and fear. A single tear rolled down her cheek. This seemed to amuse her captor. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I'm just waiting for my pets to bring me a few more toys for us to play with."

 

 

 

Linda was struggling to hold on to what remained of her sanity. This was supposed to be the easiest job in years, yet here she was, half-naked and terrified and pinned to a slab in the morgue by the will of some mad devil-woman that was undoubtedly going to torture her.

 

 

 

She felt something pierce her skin just above her bellybutton. A tearing sensation passed upwards. Warm blood welled up from her stomach up to her collarbones. The fingernail was so sharp that she barely felt the cut. The woman ran a finger down her chest, collecting some of the blood and bringing it up to her lips. "Tainted indeed, but good enough for my pets."

 

 

 

As if summoned by this suggestion the sound of dozens of small feet passed through the room. The rats returned from their trip tugging along various medical supplies, their filthy yellow teeth tugging at the paper wrappers that were supposed to keep them sterile. The woman stretched out an arm and watched in horror as one of the rodents climbed up the coat to drop a large syringe in her hand. With the other hand Linda's captor pulled out one of the glass bottles. She plunged the needle through the membrane and filled the chamber. "This is supposed to block pain. I'm curious if it works, and if it does, for how long."

 

 

 

Linda could feel cold fingers probing the inside of her arm. Then came the familiar feeling of a needle piercing her skin, filling her arm with a numbness that slowly spread. She wanted to scream but her captor didn't let her. "You'll have plenty to scream around later. I'm going to let you save your breath."

 

 

 

She beckoned with both hands. One hand forced Linda's head upwards. She could see the cut running down between her breasts. There was less blood than she had expected. At several places small trickles ran down, following the curves of her body. Where her blood ran down the slab to drip onto the floor rats were fighting to lap it up. Linda couldn't see them, but she could hear their squeaks and hisses as they fought for her blood. She knew now what her captor meant with her 'pets'. The realization made her want to scream again, but she was still firmly under the woman's control.

 

 

 

The other hand had summoned another rat, this one carrying a scalpel. The creature obediently dropped it into the hand the woman held out before rejoining its frenzied kin on the floor. Linda could only watch as the scalpel drew two parallel crimson lines on the skin of her stomach, perpendicular to the fingernail cut. She whimpered softly as the woman reached down, gently tugging at the skin, slowly peeling it away. One by one Linda saw her insides revealed, yet there was no pain, only a terrible numbness. The only sound was her tissues tearing and the rats still fighting. What was left of Linda's sanity was cut away with her flesh. By the time the woman dropped a single rabid rat in Linda's stomach cavity she finally gave her control of her vocal cords. As the rodent began to tear and gnaw at her flesh, she screamed. Not out of pain, but because by now her sanity had completely left her. By the time the woman shoved her off the slab to fall among the rats she had gone catatonic. One of the last lucid thoughts she could manage before the blood loss overcame her was how lucky she was. Whatever the rats would do to her, she wouldn't have to feel. It was simply waiting to be finished off.

well I guess she is the gazelle after all. Damn that was a creepy story... Could we have a little more comedic value in the future?

Could we have a little more comedic value in the future?

You don't want to know what the rat was originally going to be used for :-w

I have a guess though, Room 101?

>.o Thanks for the nightmares lol.

 

 

 

Creepy.. just CREEPY.

 

 

 

And yet, I like it. :twisted:

Umm ya.... you have a really creepy mind. :uhh:

Umm ya.... you have a really creepy mind. :uhh:

:

It is always great to read your stories. You are truly a legend of the Varrock Library. =D> =D>

Umm ya.... you have a really creepy mind. :uhh:

:

Greatness does not happen without insanity. :P

I (sort of) dreamt about the 'villain' of this story while napping today... it was... interesting :-s

*reminds myself never to explore necro's mind.*

I have to agree with the consensous... man! that was very freaky!!!!!

 

 

 

I think I gotta read something comedic to lighten my day.

 

 

 

Out of curiosity, when did you first come to the Varrock Library? because I'm certain you are the oldest one here (time since beginning to write here)

Creeepppyyy :)

 

Amazing detail and explinations, I have a perfect picture of the hospital in my head. This is the first piece I have read by you in a long time :oops: , I won't be making that mistake again ;).

 

Thanks for the very scary, descriptive story.

 

10/10 :thumbsup:

One the one hand the story was pretty good. I can't deny that there is an incredible amount of skill that goes into a story like this.

 

On the other hand there is the sheer feutility of the piece, no message, no real story. A prologue at best, perhaps an Epilogue of a type. Rounding off perhaps a story set in the middle ages and transfering it to the modern era. A set up for a sequal perhaps.

 

Either way it was not a story in its own right, in my opinion at least, it leaves too many unanswered questions and puts the reader into the feel that they want more.

 

that perhaps is what makes it what it is, forcing the readers to use what imagination we have to fill in some of the blanks. Making it appear exactly how we imagine it, because we are.

 

On the other hand again thouhg, perhaps its not so much as we create a fiction for ourselves, but perhaps its that the fiction just isn't there. It leaves us wanting more, looking perhaps more deeply into the story.

 

But of course there is the scare factor, personally it wasn't scare, it was experiance. As Gattree said, or implyed at least, the mind can kick out some radical things, it just depends on whos mind it is.

 

It would be interesting to see how the story comes together, but then again its the mystery that creates the story more than anything else.

 

 

 

With a story like this you can never quite put your finger on the sentance structure or the paragraphinh because they are seemlessly blended with the rest of the story, and the vocabulary is not over or under zealously used. But probably what makes it extra special is that it doesn't try to paint a scene in your mind. It runs like a lecture or something. Give a single still photo and then a few minutes later giving another, perhaps the same thing but closer, or perhaps something completely different. But between the images there is a narration, to connect them.

 

 

 

However because I don't feel quite right in saying something is perfect...

 

You'll have plenty to scream around later

 

Maybe its just my English but it doesn't look quite right...