They All Fall Down...

[Ridley]

I'm pretty sure this is going to be a one shot...maybe two if i feel like it's not summed up in one post, but it should be. Short, sweet, and lots of blood. Writing this just to see how i fair with gore.

Hope you love with all your heart.

[Chole]

Blood? Your writing?

Who isn't going to love it?

[Ridley]

Me.

[Ridley]

"Ring around the rosies.
Pockets full of posies.
Ashes...
Ashes...
They all fall down..."

The girl sung it with an eerie tone. It drifted through the air with a queer quialitly that seemed empty, and her voice which created the noise empty.

The room around her was a cell in solitary confienment, and it walls were padded with firm, but soft fluff. She figited in her strait-jacket, working absent mindely at the straps which bound her.

The walls, although sterilezed, were covered with blood stains and other stains which one could not even begin to imagine. The strait-jacket was a dull yellow, and was splattered with the same crimson colored liquid smeared on the friendly walls.

The girl had seen horros beyond anyone's darkest dreams, or perhaps nightmares. Her hair was thin and greasy, though once it was full, fluffy, and a spectuacular shade of black. Her skin was pale, obviously it had seen no sun in 3 months at the least; it was also covered with brusies, cuts, and bandages.

Her eyes had sunken into her sockets, and stared off into a land known only to her; their function only to see what illusions her mind created. Her body was thin, and frail...her teeth yellowed and caked with plauqe from lack of brushing.

She shook back and fourth, singing the nursy rhyme over and over again. For some reason it brought her a strange comfort. She had no ienty now...only a number--even if that. Although, once she had been called Arika.

Arika Willow Shames.

At one point she was loved by a mother, a father, and a brother. She had a boy friend who was loyal and determined to spend the rest of his life with her. At one point she was smart, and pleasent. Evenyed for her kindness and good heart.

Of course, it was faded memories, and not even her family recognized her exsistance anymore and her boyfriend unable to move on...her boy friend was dead. Spared the heart breaks of seeing his beloved reduced to this state.

Again...none of that mattered. She was a number, if only that.

Of course, one may not think the room which kept her bound truely atrocious, but what she sat in begged to differ. A mixture of blood, fecal matter, urine, and vomit added an unbareable stench to the air.

But the girl didn't mind...she had grown used to it. She rocked back and fourth, trying to soothe her burning wounds. Trying to send herself into a sleep from which she'd never wake.

Her mind had been broken by the results of a vacation gone horriblely wrong. Of course, she had no idea Nazis would round up Jews. She had lost everything--including her sanity--from falling into a torture camp. Beaten. Raped. Experiments. She was nothing more than a person who was rescued and brought back home...only to find herself in an even worse place.

Taunted by the shrill cried of her inmates, and the moans of the walking dead Arika exsisted. Her the Head of the Staff was a creul man who delighted himself with the bodies of the woman on the ward.

Some were exotic pleasures, and others treasured for their fighting spirit...a very select few were made his favorites for whatever reasons; Arika was one of them.

Raped when ever she was in solitary, her womb had been so mutilated no prospects of children were the result. She was sterile. A burning sensation from the rips and tares, and scared from acid being dropped upon her bare skin.

Again...none of it mattered; it was only how she came to be and what she suffered now. What mattered was her hollow voice, singing to soothe her shattered soul and broken mind. Her rocking to make her feel as if she were a person, not a number sitting in solitary in her own excreations.

"They all fall down..."

Her hard work had paid off. The jacket loosened and her arms were free at last. She pulled it off, sitting alone in that room, knowing she hadn't much time--the Head would come by soon.

Her hands reached into a place in which no one would ever dare search, only where that Pig's dick had touched. Her slender hand fit into it with surprising ease, the thought of it was repulsive. Even more disgusting was what she pulled from her womb.

Covered in blood was a small pistols. She held it in her hands, tears streaking her cheeks from the pain of pulling it out, and the remembered pain of putting it in. She held it as her body was wracked with shakes, but not from what one might think.

Arika was laughing. Laughing at something no one would ever know...but she laughed. A cold, empty laughter which seemingly chilled the room. A tension was in the air as she held the loaded gun and the lights flickered slightly.

The neon buzzing was like chinese water torture...faint. constant. inexplicably evil and annoying. She saw the shadow pass the window and Arika could feel his eyes boring a hole into her figure.

She had been hunched over the gun, and as the door slid open a tall, heavy-set man stood watching. She leaned back, her hair cleared from her face, exposing the nozzle of the gun in her mouth.

She watched as the last image she ever saw was the Head's face contorted in anger and disgust. Then she blinked and everything was black.

The bullet dropped to the ground with a dull clink, and the bang echoed throught the room. She slumped to the ground, brains plastered to the wall, and a hole clearly visable. Her eyes looked up blankly as she lay dead, and the entire staff came rushing to clean up the mess. The trash.

Arika had been reduced to nothing. Only a mound of flesh discarded without a thought. Her stench was like a heavy musk as the staff tried to scrap the walls and sterilze the room once more. For once in the Institution's history, a room had given the staff members a chill.

Slowly, her voice seemed to echo as the cleaning crew shuddered...

"Ring around the rosies.
Pockets full of posies.
Ashes...
Ashes...
They all fall down..."

--------

*ignores lame pun* After being all chopped up...

--------

"Ring around the rosies.
Pockets full of posies.
Ashes...
Ashes...
They all fall down..."

The girl sung it with an eerie tone. It drifted through the air with a queer quialitly that seemed empty, and her voice which created the noise empty. The room around her was a cell in solitary confienment, and it walls were padded with firm, but soft fluff. Of course, one may not think the room which kept her bound truely atrocious, but what she sat in begged to differ. A mixture of blood, fecal matter, urine, and vomit added an unbareable stench to the air.

She figited in her strait-jacket, working absent mindely at the straps which bound her. The walls, although sterilezed, were covered with blood stains and other stains which one could not even begin to imagine. The strait-jacket was a dull yellow, and was splattered with the same crimson colored liquid smeared on the 'friendly' walls. The girl's hair was thin and greasy, though once it was full, fluffy, and a spectuacular shade of black. Her skin was pale, obviously it had seen no sun in 3 months at the least; it was also covered with brusies, cuts, and bandages. Her eyes had sunken into her sockets, and stared off into a land known only to her; their function only to see what illusions her mind created. Her body was thin, and frail...her teeth yellowed and caked with plauqe from lack of brushing.

She shook back and fourth, singing the nursy rhyme over and over again. For some reason it brought her a strange comfort. Taunted by the shrill cried of her inmates, and the moans of the walking dead she continued to deteriote in her physical and mental health.

"Ashes..."

Her hard work had paid off. The jacket loosened and her arms were free at last. Her hands reached into a place in which no one would ever dare search; the place in which come life--ironic that it hid what would bring her death. Her slender hand fit into it with surprising ease, the thought of it being inside her womb was repulsive. Even more disgusting was what she pulled from inside: a pistol loaded with 1 bullet.

Her body was wracked with shakes of laughter, as she sung the verses again with an insane grin. A cold, empty laughter added electricity to the air, or perhaps--upon later recounts--it was merely the droning buzz of the neon lights. She put the gun into her mouth, and she could taste the bitter liquid which coated the gun. Her finger felt around for the trigger, and she cocked the gun with her thumb. As she righted herself, blood oozed from the nozzle and she choked on a few peices of uterus lining. Again, she whispered softly to herself.

"Now i fall down..."

The bullet dropped to the ground with a dull clink, and the bang echoed throught the room: a shot heard round the ward. The girl slumpped to the ground, and as her empty head hit the floor, blood poured from the room...a dark, crimson colored blood now stained not only the walls, but the floor as well. Her eye had been released from it's captivity inside her socket, and the eye rolled across the ground, leaving a bloody trail. It looked up at all who dare enter, it's blue iris forever looking upon the world and all it's creulties. THe retna cord still sdangled off, moving around from the A/C, looking like a worm and giving the eye a life of it's own. Slowly, very slowly, the blood reached it and carried it to the drain in the center of the floor.

A long drop into the sewers awaited the eye and with a gentle 'plop' the thing was gone. The girl would never have to look at the world ever again...after all, her eye fell down.

[Sasha]

Awesome story, the ending was way cool ^^

I don't know if I should be commenting here....

ANYHOW, I really did enjoy it Ridley. You can do gore.

[Ridley]

that story was supposed to be three paragraphs. just about when she died. but it turned into...that.

[Liz]

I love it.

[Ridley]

yeah...i think i like it too...still not as good as Garry's. *weeps*

[Liz]

as North Campaign?

[Ridley]

yes....wasn't even completed and still better than mine.

*weeps*

[Liz]

It's better than any shit i've ever written =]

[Issac Weasley]

Mine had no plot. So stop bashing your own writing. It's good. *Attempts to throw kleenex*

[Sasha]

*watches Kleenex float a feet away from Garry* Ah... *picks up kleenex and runs up to Ridley*

Stop being dramatic, yours is good! And what Garry said

[Ridley]

but i was going for what garry did...no plot, just senseless gore.

i couldn't even manage that...only a paragraph or two of blood, maybe another of eerie ambiance, GArry's ENTIRE thing was what mine was in a few paragraphs...it's impossible for me to ever do that; i'm too fixated on character development.

[Ridley]

Oh btw, i added a shorter version. my attempt at senseless gore and no character development. it's forced. you can tell. damn my nessecity.