#extict | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marlasomething · 2 years ago

Text

(my) Mag a Week: Natural Destruction

Before anything: next week there won’t me another “chapter” of these, I am going on holiday.

Hello there!

I am participating in the "a mag a day" idea which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened.

This week I am a bit late, sorry, life. For today I rolled Archivist!Martin Blackwood and The Extinction (Eps. 147-155).

As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

CW: mentions of murder, self-harm, swearing, toxic family dynamics

Also on AO3!

Statement of Mary Cage, regarding the re-appearance of her twin children, almost a decade after they disappeared in the first place.

Audio recording by Basira Hussain; The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I never wanted children; all I ever wanted was a legacy and children were the easiest way of getting one. If you ask me, the best option is to have three kids, so at least one will be worth saving , even if it just because he or she wants to prove to be less of a disappointment than the other siblings.

I know it sounds harsh, but it is what it is. One of my children needed to outlive me in a manner in which I would never be completely forgotten; it is not an affair to let completely to luck and randomness.

Therefore, that is exactly what I did: I had three children, my beautiful precious Rosalind and her older brothers, Charles and Jack. I recall thinking for a very long time I got lucky, since I had two thirds of the work done at once…now, I am not so sure, perhaps I will still have one viable child if they hadn’t been that close…Maybe they wouldn’t have disappeared at all.

It wasn’t long before I knew Charles and Jack wouldn’t make it in this world in any significate way. It wasn’t that they were bad, or stupid, or especially clumsy; they just weren’t enough of anything. It was so, that I started to feel laziness towards them, as if they weren’t worth my time. And, then, Rosalind was born and, even though she was the blandest baby I have ever seen, she brightened up my life. After all, her emptiness meant that she had all the potential to be moulded into anything. Not only that but, as she grew older, she proved to have absolutely no mind of her own, yet a brain so powerful she was quickly to understand everything, memorise almost all data and even be sensitive with people in a manner not even mental health professionals can be.

In other words: I have my child and, also, two other kids who also happened to share my blood.

Since the only complain I used to have about Rosalind was how fragile her health was in summer (and only summer, we still don’t know the reason behind this), this was the part of the year where most annoying I found those other two needed mouths.

I wanted them so badly not to be there, to not keep occupying space and oxygen and even part of my capacity of loving …but I couldn’t, at least, not directly.

Perhaps leaving the door open before taking Rosalind to the hospital wasn’t that incidental, maybe, only contacting the authorities, no PI mixed on trying to get them back…maybe I was glad they were gone.

Maybe, now, like this, I could work more and better in the perfect offspring I had always deserved.

The next nine to ten years were uneventful. Rosalind was growing into the very exact person I wanted her to be, my husband was just a presence that did his part (and I make no illusions he thought any other way about me) and things were…as they were supposed to. I made a world for myself and, yes, that can become rather tedious from time to time, but the overall is safe, nice. A perfect design in which the faults of our reality mattered no more.

With, of course, the extra-safety of knowing that, no matter what, everything I was would be carry on thanks to my wonderful only daughter.

Then, her siblings re-appeared.

If there was any doubt it was the teenage version of the boys that had gone missing almost a decade ago, it was corroborated by the DNA test my husband and I almost violently insisted to be done to them the moment it was legally allowed to do so.

At first, they were silent, and we were afraid they had become some simpletons with more animal than human instincts, but we were wrong: they were just shy, scared of being pushed into the streets…just as I should have done.

Their story was quite simple, actually: the twins had gone lost in the woods, where they had found a couple determined to live without the poison that is Western Civilization (their words, not mine), the pair had adopted them, turned out to be far more literate than most teachers we could have found for the pair and eventually died. So they had chosen to come out, arguing that “even we like what we were taught, we want to believe there can still be hope for our species”. We couldn’t do nothing and, after all, all they did was to eat more expensive (and healthier, according to them) than before and speak certain nonsense to whomever was there to listen.

However, one day, their audience was different than the usual.

One day, the audience was Rosalind.

I just wished she had cut her ears off beforehand.

I know that, deep down, the twins meant nothing with what they said. They did believe their charged rhetoric, but that was it: there were no brainwashing shady second intentions to their speech.

Still, they should have realised that Rosalind wasn’t the ideal person to listen to a fiery discourse without taking out the most dramatic conclusions and how to act upon them.

The entire concept of the human species destroying a place that is not own by us more than a flower or the oceans infuriated her up to the point that she actively refused to take any means of transportation other than one of her three bikes or her very own feet.

This only affected her, but then she started to interfere with her father and I, trying to throw away or donate those clothes that we had tailor-made for one concrete event, changing our daily menus and even meal times, calling to cancel all our television subscriptions…I don’t know how she did it so efficiently in so little time, but before we could even began to react, we were in the most Spartan house I could even begin to conceive in the twenty-first century.

Meanwhile, the monster of teenagers my oldest children had become just kept a perpetual smug face, as if they were proud of their influence in their baby sister. They weren’t so high and mighty when Rosalind decided ( found out , according to her) that she wasn’t doing enough.

And so she went to her next phase.

I recalled the disgust I felt when I saw my beautiful perfect Rosalind staring at a mirror, at her beauty untarnished and simply started to scratch her face. First almost gently, then with such fervour pieces of skin were falling to the floor, right next to a mirror.

I gasped and tried to stop her without being harmed in the way (she was much stronger than she looked and my bones are fragile), to what she only reacted by lowering her arms and calming me, saying that she had had enough, that it was just “not fair” that someone like her got so much when other people were being condemned just for the factions they got at birth.

I immediately sent her to her room and called her father and siblings to the living room. It would be shameful, but I was completely willing to put her in an asylum if that could help. Yes, sorry, that word is not politically correct but, if you see your life project mutilating herself out of some nonsense her estranged brothers muttered without even being firm believers (they are already back to the sports team and playing X-Box every other day, for fuck’s shake!)….you wouldn’t care either about what should be said.

However, what was so clear to me wasn’t to my useless husband and even more dead loss children. They began to say I was being “too much myself” (whatever that meant) and we spent hours arguing. By the time I had managed to convince them, we went upstairs…

…to find the lifeless body of Rosalind, who had been mutilating herself until she had died. Apparently, of blood loss.

With some…I hope it was just blood, she had written in the floor “that is what Humanity deserves”.

At first, I thought it was bit too extreme. I could understand the pressure getting to her, her weak mind falling for certain moralities and even the self-harm. After all, it isn’t as if I hadn’t been her age…the message, though? That was beyond worrying, my child hadn’t been that crazy, been that wrongly made. She was a vision, not a nightmare; she shouldn’t have believed that.

So, as I mourned the empty casket we buried (there was a break in the funerary the night before and the bastards that did it took a few corpses apart from every single item of value), I started to wonder how she could have come to that conclusion, to the almost stated fact that Humanity deserved ugliness and annihilation…then, I understood it.

It wasn’t my daughter who had been at fault, not even my now also deceased stupidly insidious twins; it had been this rotten planet of ours. This place is ungrateful to us, the species who managed to turn it from a jungle filled with irrational parasites to the garden of refinement and progress it is today.

I will avenge my daughter and, with her, also myself. I am making my personal mission to scorch this world to the ground; I am even making sure no remains of those I might end in my path can be used by the Earth as its personal fertiliser.

Please, if I am writing to you it is because you are people of thought and intellect and I wish nothing but to spread my word to those who could understand it.

Help me consume this planet.

Statement ends.

The more time I spend as The Archivist, the most certain I am this whole classification of fears is pure bullshit that we had turned real after inventing it. Yes, I know that our new director that doesn’t have at all Elias’ eyes and speaks just like the bastard Jon went to jail for rightfully murdering him is giving me this statements about The Extinction as this new threat that is rising from the shadows but, in all honesty? If it is real, it is just re-contextualizing other elements that people following these alleged Fears.

About the statement itself, I could look into it, even look into it properly; but I would rather go have a drink with my equally doomed mates, taking advantage of our new director curiously connecting so quickly with Lukas…

End recording.

#a mag a day #a mag a week #mag horror #statement #original statement #the magnus archives #fanfic #tma #magnuspod #basira hussain #original statement giver #the extiction #alternate season 4 #alternate universe #ao3

0 notes