Welcome to Lively Acres!

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Welcome to Lively Acres! - Part One

The storm came quick, with a flash and bang. It her head, it sounded like 'Pomp and Circumstance' being played by a garage metal band. With really shitty amps. Rain blew in horizontal sheets, stripping trees of their spring plumage and scouring the poorly paved road free of oil and debris.

Thick, shimmering rainbows disappeared into the ditches and creeks, ushered along by an entourage of flotsam. The naked trees groaned where their roots dipped into the waterways, whether because of the foul brew or the winds testing their anchorage, she didn't know. The ringing in her head didn't offer any answers for that. Or any at all.

Thunder, coming close enough to kiss, rocked the corrugated metal shed and rattled her teeth in her head. Lightening, coming up quick behind, flashed and sizzled, chasing away the motes of light in her vision by virtue of blinding her completely. Temporarily, she hoped.

Soaking wet and steaming mad under a thick blanket of disorientation, she waited for her vision to return and her head to clear. Something had driven her to this rusted ruin of a shed in the deep woods, the only standing structure in a small, abandoned housing project. Something had covered her in bruises and torn half the hair from her head. Something scraped away the skin on her left side.

Just as soon as the shitty band quit playing and she could rest a little, she'd figure out what . . .

* . * . * . * . * . * . * . *

Night. The garage metal had been replaced by crickets and a chill breeze rattling the newly nude branches. One limb tap-tap-thunked on the roof of the shed.

She opened her eyes and used her right hand to clear the bugs from her face and most of them from her hair. It was still raining, but softly, almost silently. She rolled, very slowly, out of the shed and into the rain. It helped in washing her injuries clean and clearing the remaining pests away. A spider skittered across her stomach in its attempts to escape. Clearly the shed had had other occupants before she'd discovered it. Oops.

Everything ached. Or burned. Of the two, the burning was more unpleasant. But the rain was taking care of that, as was the chill. Even the itching, the worst thing of all, was subsiding. Which was good because it's hard to scratch your own remaining skin off when your hands weren't quite working, she thought. But hey, at least she still had hands. She wasn't as sure of her feet. It was sort of numb from the knees down. She wasn't going to worry about that yet.

There was already so much chittering, shrieking, screaming terror trying to blot out her thought process that being unable to feel part of her body didn't even rate. It was actually kind of a relief. Something that didn't hurt!

She opened her mouth and let it fill with water, swallowing carefully to avoid aspirating the rain or the occasional mosquito. It was getting humid. Which probably meant more storms or the breeze was dying. That was a pity, it meant the itching would be back sooner rather than later.

No longer thirsty or itchy or as achy, she carefully roll-slithered back into the shed and slept.

* . * . * . * . * . * . * . *

Day. Light poured in around a tall, wide shadow darkening her doorway.

"Well hell," the shadow said, its voice like gravel being ground to powder. "What's this?"

"Please . . . " she said, hoping her prolonged croak resembled speech.

But apparently it didn't. The shadow disappeared, leaving a gap for more blinding light to pour in and set her raw skin on fire. She screamed, a little, because the only screams she had left were little ones.

The shadow returned, blocking out the light and loomed over her.

"Breathe deep now," it grated, reaching down with one huge hand.

And wrapped a sweet-smelling cloth over her face, pressing it against her nose and mouth, suffocating her.

[EK WAFFLR]

I'm liking it!

[Doktor Howl]

Very nice.

CPD is on a roll.  This is good.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Whoa, holy shit! 

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Interlude : Ether Dreams

Daylight, weak and wavery through a dirty bit of glass and a doorless doorway. Pounding headache and unmoving limbs. Cobwebs filling an empty mind. What? Then something else, just out of sight on the other side of the doorless doorway.

A harsh raven croak voice.

"Damn it, Wallace! What the hell were you thinking?"

Whimpering. Slow rasping noises, a dinosaur dragging his footsteps on rickety wood slats. A slow, ponderous voice, heavy and deep.

"Pretty like butterfly. Ether makes butterfly sleep."

A fluttering of feathers or dirty rags and more croaking.

"There is a difference between sleeping butterflies and killing someone!"

Strangled guttural screaming and an incredibly loud crashing, shattering noise. Tear-thick howling receding in the distance.

"Never kill! Never kill! NEVER KILL!!!"

. . .

Smarmy, accented tones and a rhythmic tap-tap-tap, like the branch from earlier, only against the ground.

"There now, Elsie, you've sent him screaming into the woods again. Sobbing like a hysterical infant. If you aren't more careful of your temper he'll either put you to sleep like one of his butterflies or he'll throw himself off the ledge to escape your shrew tongue. I'm hard pressed to decide which outcome I'd prefer. It's so distressing to see a man of his size dribbling snot like an abandoned baby with no mother to wipe his nose."

The croaking grows more harsh, more high-pitched.

"You just shut your mouth, Mr. Brown. Your fancy words don't mean anything to me."

A delicate sniff. Amused contempt.

"They aren't fancy, per se. I just wield them with greater dexterity. Although to be fair, if you had my flair, you'd be an unstoppable force of destruction. As opposed to merely being a sharp-tongued xanthippe."

"What part of shut up is too complicated for you, Mr. Brown? Your lips are moving. Still them. And help me clean up this mess . . .  Wallace's fit is going to wake the devil if not that poor mostly dead thing he dragged home."

Daylight slipping away and blackness again . . . a relief from the unwelcome noise.

Where . . . did the . . .  crick . . . ets . . . go?

[LMNO]

Creepy.  I like this!

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

Good stuff.

I got an involuntary shudder down my spine after reading the first post!

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Good stuff.

I got an involuntary shudder down my spine after reading the first post!

High praise!

[Left]

I like this a lot, please to keep going, yes?

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Well. I'm out of Justice League cartoons so it should NOT! be a problem.

ETA: added the NOT!, although I did find a Justice League mini movie thing to watch so that's why it didn't get done until 2 am or so. :P

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Welcome to Lively Acres! - Part Two

She became aware of heavy, ragged breath filling the small space around her. It pinged off the walls and echoed. Sour but faintly minty, hot air washed over her face, blew into her ear. She didn't want to open her eyes. This was the part where the monster ate her, spleen first, while she watched and screamed. Which would suck because she was out of screams. Maybe whimpers would do.

"You awake. Breath changed. Can't fool me. Open eyes now." Rocks rubbing together flicked the words into her ears, like flint and steel trying to strike sparks.

Her head really hurt. And she was going to vomit.

Rolling over, she got her head clear of where she lay just in time.

A giant crash and a gurgling howl signaled the departure of whoever had spoken. She couldn't open her eyes yet, she was still pouring out the entire contents of her abdominal cavity onto the floor. She felt tears roll down her cheeks, snot pour out of her nose, and vomit splash up from the floor to spatter her cheek. Apparently she wasn't that far off the floor. She registered all this but couldn't do anything about it. Her body was turning itself inside out.

"What a mess!"

The shriek tore through her head and she heaved again.

"If you sick up all over everyone who tries to help you out, I see why you ended up beat to bits in Iser's old shed," the voice continued, settling into a hoarse croaking. "And you've messed yourself, too. That's fine, fine. I suppose I have to clean that up as well since your hands aren't fit to be called such."

The voice receded but never ceased.

"Wallace! You go on and fetch Mr.Brown's fancy tin tub. Quick now. You brought this burden on us and you're going to help take care of the mess. I swear. If I'd known when I was young that this is where I'd end up, I'd have thrown myself in front of a train."

Thudding, stumbling stomping made her head explode and she threw up again. But at least she was running out of things to vomit. A loud thunk and clang made her cry out and clutch at her skull, trying to keep the pieces from flying apart.

"Land's sake, Wallace. You're as useless as an ox in a nursery. Start hauling water. Double-time, now."

"Elsie mean," someone muttered.

"Wallace slow," the voice that was apparently Elsie retorted sharply. "You tell Mr. Brown I want wood for a fire and two sheets from his rag pile. Send Mazey to scrub up this mess."

"Mazey can't scrub."

"It's her or you, boy," Elsie said in a dangerous voice.

"I go."

"That fool will be the death of me and probably himself," Elsie croaked wrathfully. "Here girl, puke in this basin while I start sopping up this godforsaken mess."

And she felt herself abruptly jerked around and rearranged. Her eyes finally opened and she found herself lying at a different angle with a large plastic bowl beneath her face. The jostling made her head ring again and she heaved into the bowl but there wasn't much left to come up.

Elsie's incessant cackle and Wallace's stomping and clattering kept her head ringing for the next half hour as pain exploded from temple to temple, arcs of lightening setting her brain on fire. Finally, she was too exhausted for even dry heaves. Before she could do more than spit half-heartedly into the bowl to clear her mouth of the foul taste, she was stripped and tumbled into the tin tub of hot water. For a second, it was too hot and her skin felt like it was melting.

But then, at long last, her body decided it had had enough pain and shut off. Then it didn't feel anything but wet, which was wonderful. A rag and a bar of harsh-smelling soap landed in the water in front of her.

"Scour yourself good. Especially that abrasion on your left side, it's got dead bugs and dirt in it. If you need help, scream. If you don't, keep your mouth shut. I'll be outside. Wallace is getting another bucket of water for you to rinse with when you're done washing. Call out and I'll bring it in. Don't take all day, I have better things to do."

Elsie left, pulling a stained bit of canvas across the doorway for an illusion of privacy.

Left alone, the woman began to scrub as she'd been instructed. She did the long scrape first, while she was still numb. From waist to ankle, on her left side, the skin was completely gone. There was a patch of skin missing from her upper left arm as well, so she scrubbed that just as mercilessly. Then she scrubbed her face.

All the other injuries were bruises and probably fractures. But nothing was actually broken, thank whoever enabled that small mercy. Her fingers wouldn't work, though. And that was troubling. Instead of hands, she had claws. But they worked well enough for the task at hand so she didn't think too much on it. Her toes were scraped raw, a few were swollen and purple. Her right ankle was severely sprained, it was a livid black with a red spot dead center and blue around the outer edge. Like a lop-sided bull's eye. Some real damage there, but she could rotate the joint just fine, whispered threats of agony from her body aside. Other bloody spots on her legs washed away just fine and the water took on a pink tinge the longer she sat in the tub.

The only problem was that she couldn't get her back.

"Hey," she tried shouting but her voice refused to rise higher than a parched whisper. "Help. I could use a hand here," she rasped, banging on the side of the tub.

A head poked under the bit of canvas. Scraggly white hair festooned with twigs and leaves and bits of litter framed a pixie's face. One eye was purple and the other was cloudy white and . . . odd. Old scars covered the side of the face with the odd eye.

"Elsie isn't going to come unless you actually scream or call out like she said to," the woman, more a girl if the voice was an indicator, "So you can do that or I can help you. Your choice."

"You, please."

The rest of the woman's body slithered in under the canvas, quick as a greased snake. She was short, once she stood up. Barely five feet and so thin her bones poked through the skin here and there. But she was agile and seemed healthy enough as she took the rag and began matter-of-factly scrubbing.

"My name is Mazey," she said. Her voice had a sing-song quality, as if everything she was saying was part of a nursery rhyme. "It's spelled M - A - Z - E - Y. Not the other way, which is for corn. My name is for the labyrinths. You know what I mean?"

"Uh-huh. Thank you."

"Oh, my pleasure. I like helping but no one lets me. You have some pretty deep gashes, on your back, by the way. I can see all sorts of things I probably shouldn't be able to."

"Oh."

"Hmm. I saw a whistle pig get hit by a car once. It looked sorta like this, without the fur. I think maybe you need some stitching up. I'll get Mr. Brown."

And then Mazey was gone. The canvas curtain didn't even rustle as she whizzed through.

She was back, only a minute or so later. Suddenly there as if she hadn't left. With a bucket of water in one hand and a tattered but pristine bit of cloth in the other.

"Stand up." Mazey said briskly, the sing-song tone gone.

It was a struggle but she got as far as her knees. Then fell forward because her legs absolutely refused to function.

"Brace yourself with your arms and just stay like that. This is going to hurt." Mazey ordered, up-ending the bucket of scalding water almost before she finished speaking.

There was one more scream left after all. But it ended quickly.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Fucking hell. It's painful as fuck to read, but I can't stop.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Fucking hell. It's painful as fuck to read, but I can't stop.

Sorry. Not really sure where it's coming from. The above wasn't what I intended to write at all. It's just what came out. I think I had an allergic reaction ether once, as a kid. Apparently it sucked a lot.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

No need to apologize, it's really good. That's why it's so painful to read; the words transport me right into that reality, and holy fuck.

[LMNO]

Yeah, this is really visceral stuff.  Keep going.