brave and stupid. [oz/open][day 1]
Feb 27, 2022 15:34:46 GMT -5
Post by doodle :) on Feb 27, 2022 15:34:46 GMT -5
a sketchA girl with her eyes wide open to a sky we do not see. Her head is open. It is a hollow cave that a creature dwells in. An inky mass with bulging egg-like eyes and long claws raking across the ground as the creature slithers from its den. Its thick, sluggish mass oozes into the world beyond -- it's free. It finds you.an animationWhen Oz charged the career - oh fuck, she was a career! -- he had no idea what he was doing. He saw Celeste's head burst open -- you only knew her for a few days, you moron! -- and he couldn't stop himself.As he runs, he has no idea what he is doing. Only that he can't stop himself.Why did you do that?!a sketch"Why."Snuff's face is longer than usual. The shadows fall in shards beneath his eyes, shade the lines of it; he looks older."Why."The traitor's grimace weighs heavy on Snuff's face. The eyes of a man that has no choice but to kill.You know why.I did it for you.an animationA line of tears streaks down his face. He swallows, wipes at his eyes with his sleeves, keeps running. Stumbles over himself, his body lurches, he catches himself and keeps going.Everything just -- appears. In quick, disjointed flashes. A sign that reads "Junkyard" in crude spray-paint letters. Heaps of scrap and garbage, reflecting the sun's sharp glare. Cracked iron body parts, listless, beheaded or dismembered or without a body entirely.a sketchHeaps of girls piled up in tall mountains without heads or heads without skulls or with their brains in their eyes, their mouths, brain matter whipping in the air like cherry blossom petals---an animationHis body crumples into a squatting position; his chest folds over his knees as he wipes furiously at his face. He jerks the collar of his shirt over his face, but it's already moist with sweat.He quakes all over. He can't stop. His abdomen seizes itself as though he's about to hurl.Are brains really that pink?Can a human skull really break that easily? As though it were glass? Aren't they supposed to protect the brain? What good are they if they just crack open like that?A wet gagging sound from the back of the throat -- he shoves his face into the crook of his elbow, hand seized into a fist. Everything shakes but he holds as still as his nerves will let him as he seals his mouth shut, tasting the bitter bile. He swallows it.Gasping, he pulls his face from his shirt and rises. He tilts and staggers. Stops himself. Lurches forward again, as though he were dragging himself. Feels his head with his fingers, appreciating its hardness.