onyx tests ish
Apr 30, 2016 12:07:21 GMT -5
Post by Onyx on Apr 30, 2016 12:07:21 GMT -5
onyx's storage and shit testing
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He opens his eyes and realises he might as well have kept them closed. The darkness does more than swallow him - it forces him to swallow it, as well. He can feel it crawling between his teeth and down his throat like a centipede, furling itself rhymically as it explores his oesophagus. Its tendrils spreading out inside his lungs and making even the air he breathes thick with its suffocating blackness. He's inside the wall again. With a soft scraping noise that does little to revive his muted senses, he allows his pale hands to brush against the dry plaster on either side of him. It has the same roughness of his skin, which peels and cracks uglily on his hands, in the crooks of his elbows, up his neck and on his lips. He can only wish that he could be as inanimate, as unfeeling as the wall itself.
How long has he been here? Hours? Days? It's been too many heartbeats, too many painful breaths heaved heavily through his shredded windpipe to count. He can't remember the last time he heard his name out loud. His real name, not the one they've given him since... he changed. No one is looking for him. His father's voice is too weak to reach him. His mother doesn't care.
But there was a time when she did. There was a time when she would sit down with him at her metal workbench, insulating mats mosaiced across its surface, and show him things that whirred and things that buzzed and things that glowed when you told them to. The glowing ones were his favourite. Noises have always made him jumpy. As far as he was concerned, his mother had magician's hands. What other explanation could there be for how she could seemingly create life from a pile of intricate metal screws and wires? How else could he rationalise the sparks that seemed to fly from her fingers? He never aspired to be like her because no one could be like her. Her words were gospel, and his hazel eyes were always widest when he listened to her preach them.
His father hurt people. While his mother spent her days creating things with her son, for the joy
