#❝ ᵂʳⁱᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᵘᵖᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ❞ ; writings

[shxdowborn-blog]

Warning: Story below gets violent. If you are squeamish about blood, violence and the tearing of flesh do not read. 

               The Wailing Bell

To my Little Trouble Makers,

               I hope you haven’t been giving mama and papa too much trouble since I’ve been gone, you know mother can’t run after you guys like I could. There is some more money coming along with this letter to help get mama’s medicine and unfortunately only enough for one of you guys to come visit. Don’t start fighting, though I know it’s a waste of my ink telling you not to when you will anyway but try to be civil. There’s a plane leaving in a few days and you’ll have one of my boss’ employees pick you up and once you’re at the job site I’ll take you to where I live—the place I sent you photos of. I can’t wait until I can bring all of you here, it’s beautiful and I know you’ll love it!

Forever your loving bloodhound brother,

Philip.

The letter was held in petite hands, her fingers curling around the paper tightly as if she were to let it go she would lose more than just it. She was scared but full of wonder and hope. It was a long plane ride from their home to her older brother’s workplace, a few points that were terrifying being on a plane for the first time, being away from the village. It was worth it though, to see what her older brother always talked about in his letters, to meet her brother again after so long. How much different would he look?

               Autohaven Wreckers started to come into view in the clearing, a looming shadow hanging over the large grounds the place held. The girl glanced over at the man driving the car, “Are you sure this is the right place?” She frowned, looking back through the windshield, “It’s not what my brother described.”

               “Yeah,” the man hummed, sounding concerned himself, “This is the place, but that amount of dark new for bein’ the evening.” He shook his head and started to slow down as they approached the entrance. In the Evenings usually, there were at least some employees moving around, and some commotion of cars going in and out, but there was nothing now. Only a deafening silence fell in the workplace.Not a single soul was moving around, no signs of movement for a while etched into the ground.

               The car pulled up just outside of Azarov’s office, the man getting out and going to the other side of the car to open the door for her. She smiled and gave him a soft thank you before stepping out, “Where does my brother usually work?” The man waved her to follow, heading through the stacks of piled cars and dirt paths. The Crusher was where her brother worked, always talking about it in his letters how much fun he had operating it and the times he would be able to work on the cars. He loved everything about his job.

               The man stopped her, putting an arm around her shoulder, pushing her slightly behind him, “Hold on.” His voice shook slightly, his eyes wide with fear. She frowned, glancing down at the ground. Crimson red splattered on the ground, blood and viscera dripping from the clamped down crusher. A small gasp escaped from her, noticing other bodies strewn across the ground, large gashes across their torsos and limbs—their backs ripped open to expose the spine. What was the most gruesome was what she saw sticking out of the crusher: a body.

               Bits of the head lay around the machine, not a single sign of the skull or any fragment of it, “Shit.” The man curses, before giving an apologetic look to her, “Sorry didn’t mean to say that, but we need to get you out of here.”

               “I can’t leave without my brother!” She whimpered, looking at all the bodies despite nausea and fear rising in her gut. She didn’t want one of them to be her brother, they couldn’t be her brother. They were all too old, not the right body shape for him: he was thin framed and much taller than any other his age. Her brown eyes wandered to the crusher, her heart dropping into the pit of her gut. What if that was him? The man who drove her there approached the crusher, looking over the body, “Crap, who the hell did this to him? Fuck, I’m sorry Azarov.”

               It wasn’t Philip. She relaxed a bit, turning to look back towards the office of Azarov. Maybe her brother was there. She stepped forward a few paces before a sharp breath was taken in, feeling a hand grab hers and pulling her back. The man from before protectively pulled her close, taking out his pocket knife, “Stay away!” He hissed at something she couldn’t see. A thick fog had begun to roll in, covering every inch of Autohaven Wreckers in its dense mist.

               Softly, the sound of bare feet pattering against the hardened ground echoed out—slow steps accompanied by the gradual dripping of something wet. The man moved in front of her, blocking her view of the approaching man. The man hesitated for a moment before speaking again, “Ojomo?” She perked up hearing her second name. It was her brother!

               “Philip!” She called out, quickly slipping from behind the man to look at the approaching figure, feeling a tingle of dread down her spine. What she saw made that feeling worse: her brother standing there, caked in blood, holding a strange object, blood glimmering from it and his body.

               She stepped back, noticing something odd in his eyes—a darkness she never saw before: pure evil. It wasn’t her brother, a shape taking his form. The man quickly went back in front of her, glaring, “What happened here Ojomo?”

               Philip tilted his head, letting a wicked smirk spread to his lips, “Everything’s fine Adam. . .” his tone didn’t speak that it was all fine, “There was just an accident,” he stepped closer into the light, more of the glimmering blood shown—and the visceral weapon coming into focus. It was gruesome, jagged metal parts strapped to a fragmented skull. It falls back into something that looks like a spine, all dripping with blood and bits of flesh. Flecks of red-orange rest on the weapon, some fading away slowly.

               “An accident?” Adam growled, “How the hell did Azarov end up in the crusher?” he pointed the knife at Philip, trying his best not to shake, “What happened?”

               “He deserved it,” the voice that came from Philip was darker, unnatural for him, “For the lives he has taken, the lives he forced me to take!” He kept coming forward, his head lowered, “all of them deserved it!”

               “Philip!” The voice caught his attention turning to look at her. She stood her ground, staring at her brother, “Please, what’s going on?”

               He hesitates for a moment, staring at her—his old look returning to his eyes, “Sade. . .” That moment quickly changed, seeing in the corner of his eye Adam start moving forward, “You shouldn’t have come here.” The shape of her brother moved quickly, for a moment almost vanishing before appearing in front of Adam, driving the metallic blades into his shoulder.

The screams became louder as Philip dragged the weapon down Adam’s chest, tearing through flesh, cutting through bone with ease. He pulled it out, blood and intestine falling out onto the ground as the gurgling breaths became silent. The once full of life body fell to the floor with a splat, onto the guts that once were internal.

               Sade stood there in a petrified fear, “B-brother. . .?” Her body shook, feeling her blood go cold as he looked at her. His eyes had a glow to them, a ghostly white, “W-what’s going on? Pl-please you’re scaring me.”

               “We’re playing,” he chuckled, pointing a bloody finger towards her, “Just like we did before with our sisters. You need to hide,” His voice changed for a moment, fear flickering in his normal tone before being consumed by the gruff darkness, “because the hunter is on the prowl, and you’ll end up like the others if you don’t hide.”

               Sade didn’t hesitate, not wait to see what was meant before running. Tears streamed down her face as she ran, trying to find any place to hide, to get away from the monster that took the form of her brother. Something was wrong, horribly wrong! It couldn’t be him!

               She found a small place nestled between cars, keeping her body pressed against the dusty ground. It took a lot of effort for her to keep her breath calm, sucking in a large gulp of air when she heard those footsteps again.

               “You shouldn’t run Sady,” Philip purred darkly, stopping right by where she was hiding, “You are too easy to track,” he breathed in before looking over to the cars, “A trail right to where you are.” She held her hand over his mouth and nose, trying to quiet her breathing.

               A screech of terror slipped from her when she felt something grab her ankle, starting to drag her out from her hiding spot, “Found you,” Philip’s cooing voice echoed in her skull as she clawed uselessly at the dusty ground, trying to crawl away.

               “Please! Please, Philip no!” Sade screamed, still trying to move away from him. She didn’t want this, didn’t want to face whatever happened to her sweet brother. It wasn’t one of their games of Hunting, this was real. She was the prey, trapped in the grasp of the hunter, waiting to be torn apart and feasted on, “Please! Don’t do this!”

               She glanced over her shoulder, seeing that weapon held close to her, “There is no choice,” his voice continued to be low, almost inhuman as growls began to mix with it—a low crackling sound echoing not only with his words but all around them, “You have been caught, and you know the consequences.” He pulled her back towards him a bit more before letting go of her ankle.

               Sade tried to move, tried to crawl away only to feel the jagged blades dig into her back, deeper through the flesh reaching to the spine. Her screams are loud, echoing through the whole yard of Autohaven Wreckers, “Game over!” Philip cruelly laughed, pulling the blade out and placing the weapon on his side, “It’s time I took my trophy for my victory.”

               He stepped to being in front of her, kneeling. She weakly looked up, seeing the white completely consuming the once tender brown eyes beneath all the blood and mud. He gently ran his fingers along her cheek, lifting her head with the other hand. Philip leaned in, kissing her forehead like he did before setting her and her sisters to sleep and before he left to start his new job. A tender kiss that was torn away when she felt a pain at the base of her skull, the makeshift knife given to him by Jaiy jabbing into her neck.

               It tore through skin, leaving an open wound all the way up the base of her skull to the top, splitting open skin and what protected the skull beneath. He continued until it went all the way down her face, all the way to the base of the front of her neck, “You’ll always be with me my dear Sady,” he purred, moving his thumbs to rest against the new line of wood down the middle of her face, “I love you.” Then, his thumbs shifted, fingers curling into the wound—and pulled. Tearing flesh mixed with the screams of pain from her, slowly becoming a garbled mess of screams and breaths, until the last bit of torn flesh was removed.

               Bare skull, attached to a covered spine, eyes still in contact and tongue barely holding onto the mandible. Philip tugged gently at first, before severing the skull from the spine in a rough yank. He stared at the bare skull, letting his free hand run along the side of it, “Always together my little sister, you and I.”He stood up, glancing towards the graveyard of bodies, all bodies he had made. The skull was put into one of the satchels he carried before picking up his sister’s headless corpse. She deserved a better end than these wretched scumbags. He would bury her outside of the yard, in a proper grave.

                 “Hey, Philip,” the ghostly white eyes glanced up, looking to Evan as he spoke, “Why do you keep that bell clean and just like your weapon stay bloody?” The banshee glanced at the bell then back to Evan, giving a small shrug. 

              “Not going to say huh?” Evan shook his head before looking back to his traps that had been sabotaged by the saboteur after his most recent trial, “Guess I’ll add that to another thing you’ll one day tell me when you open those sealed lips of yours.”