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dectech · 1 year

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a spoopy little Rain World thingy

I wrote most of this over a discord chat, and it didn’t really port well over to tumblr format, so sorry if it’s a bit of a mess in some places. Also, it gets pretty long, and it’s about corpses in Rain World, so I’ll be putting it under a cut a few paragraphs in.

So, I’ve been thinking about the nature of corpses in Rain World recently. I'd imagine, living in the rain world universe, you'd occasionally see your own corpse around, right? A fairly grisly sight, but not a completely alien one like it’d be in our’s plus, if you're still around to see it, then of course it's not that bad in the end, just a little unpleasant, and if you're in a situation like survivor's, where you've been separated from society, or are otherwise living and dying in a generally unsafe situation, the sight of your own corpse may even be somewhat common just one of those casual, uncomfortable things in day-to-day life

but...

but imagine seeing your own corpse in a place where you don't remember dying

imagine seeing your corpse in a place you certainly haven't even been before

as common as the experience of death is in Rain World, it still isn't something that's forgotten easily and yet on closer inspection, it most certainly is your body it bears not merely the color of your scuggy body, but also your clothes, and all the little things that make up your appearance, from scars to birthmarks, so...

“...what on earth is going on here?”

These are the thoughts running through Survivor's head shortly after they crawled through a random, obscure pipe and into what appears to be a large, open facility of shipping yards, cargo bays, and warehouses.

Upon their arrival, what immediately struck them was the total lack of color. From the cold concrete beneath their feet, to the dulling of the paints on all the warehouses and shipping containers, to even the light of the sun through the overcast, the place was unmistakably grey. It seemed like such a simple characteristic to the environment, yet it was in complete contrast to everything they'd seen before

Everywhere they went previous, there was at very least some splash of color here and there, from rotting, ancient decorations to new life sprouting from the remains of the old and that lead them to the second strange thing about this place; the total lack of life There was an intense sense of desolateness that filled the air in place of the scents and sounds of a place more lived-in and even in the concrete they walked on, though it had shown signs of seasonal wear-and-tear from weather and entropy, it was clear that such was all the wear-&-tear it had seen in a very, very, long time for one reason or another, it seemed this place had sat unoccupied for years upon years upon years, possibly even before the ancients had left. That was until Survivor discovered their own body in a place it shouldn't be.

Previously, Survivor had been motivated into traversing the Hollow Shipyard out of what it could possibly hold. Who knew what bounties those cargo containers could hold? What old stories hidden in data could be lying around in a place that would have seen so much activity, so much passing through? Furthermore, the shipment of cargo necessitates transit. Perhaps there was some way beyond, to a place where their family, or at least a family, could be?

but now, as Survivor stared down at a Survivor they didn't remember being, dread began to settle in their gut like a lead pearl. Paranoid "what-ifs" began to creep into their head For example, it seemed not even the ancients had went here in a long time, relative to the date of their ascension. What if they had a more dire reason to abandon this place? Why was there nothing here? Was there some kind of toxic chemical leak here, from the cargo or something? Was it something worse? They considered turning around and leaving on the spot, but...

Well, not being here apparently didn't stop them from... dying there without realizing something very wrong was going on, and it would continue happening even without their presence, it seemed. At least if they kept investigating, they might have a chance at figuring out what to do about it, if there even WAS anything that could be done

They pressed forward, and now that they first saw it, they couldn't unsee it. the ground was littered with their own corpses, even in places they could have sworn they'd walked right over. Okay, perhaps it would be best to leave sooner rather than later, they reasoned. They decided they'd just open a few of the shipping containers, see what's inside, maybe loot them, scrounge around for some pearls for Moon, if they can find any, and head right back. Who knows? Maybe they'd open a container to find some barrels of toxic waste, and Moon'd say that one of the effects of the toxin is amnesia or something, and they'd never have to come here ever again. they pried open the doors on one of the shipping containers, and what they saw froze them in place near-instantly.

it was covered & filled, wall-to-wall, even floor to ceiling in some places, with mutilated corpses, and nearly all of them were Survivor's, at least, alongside a few faces they didn't recognize, and others they wish they didn't.

Mauled, tortured, disembowled, impaled by rebar spikes stuck in the wall, you name a horrible, gory way to die, and you'd see an example in that sheet-metal cave And what's worse is how it was so plainly clear none of it was post mortem- they all had expressions of horrid agony on their faces. As The Survivor was stuck staring, they couldn't help but realize how they'd all been fused together, a fact almost hard to notice just from the sheer mass and chaos of the pile. They were connected by globs and strands of silky, white flesh, although it mostly seemed to depend on the color of the slugcat it was sprouting from, in the odd case of a corpse that wasn't Survivor's It was reminiscent of parasitic Rot, but this wasn't Rot. although Survivor couldn't have known it at the time, deep down they just knew that this was worse than Rot. much worse Eyes wide, heart pounding, Survivor slowly and carefully shut the door of the shipping container, sliding the metal bar that was the basic locking mechanism back in place, as if afraid the corpses would somehow wake.

As they turned to leave, this fear was realized All of the corpse seen littering the ground previously had begun to twitch and writhe. Beneath them, those same silky strands, now exposed as the bodies tried to roll over, sank into the earth, like the roots of a much larger organism. Behind them, they heard a “choir” of what vaguely resembled a struggling attempt at wheezing and the unmistakable sound of shaking metal.

The shaking escalated until it was undeniable that the entire shipyard, with what had to have been thousands of containers, was rattling and shaking as if caught in an earthquake, the psuedo-wheezing now having progressed into an ocean of terrible sound, the wails of the damned, with a force that had to have been tens of thousands of voices strong, flooding Survivor's ears like deathrain

So much of that hell-choir was their voice, good lord, why was so much of it them? why them?! they didn't think about why so much of that auditory hellfire belonged to them, as the sound of several metal bars and locks breaking in unison sent them running faster than they ever had before they didn't think about the rhythmic pounding of what could only be the footsteps of something massive rushing forward to meet them they didn't think about the shadow that suddenly blocked out the sky above them they didn't think about how, when they inevitably did end up catching a glimpse of a giant, psuedopod-like appendage coming down to earth, it was nearly all white they didn't think about how the cries they heard behind them were not of anger, not war-cries, but universally cries of misery, fear, and unknowable pain they didn't think about the other faces they saw in that container they didn't think about the other faces they recognized they didn't think about the hints of other colors amongst the white they didn't think about the hints of blue & pink, they didn't think about the spiny patches of dark violet, they very much didn't think about the hints of black and they absolutely didn't think about the hints of yellow they didn't look back they didn't look back despite everything, they didn't look back despite the voices of others they recognized becoming more and more prominent, they didn't look back despite being able to pick out the voices of the ones they cared about with increasing proficiency, they didn't look back despite being struck by the thought of corpses like tree rings, the ones you see are merely the most recent victim, and perhaps there is no bias towards Survivor at all, perhaps the ones they care about have been favored just as much-

-no no, they didn't think that they didn't think that, and they didn't look back they didn't see their faces they didn't see so many faces they didn't see them in so much pain

so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so much p a i n

they didn't, they didn't, they didn't they didn't despite how much the vivid memory of the sight was burning itself through their psyche, as it would continue to do for the rest of their life, they swear to god they didn't they didn't drop to their knees, finally broken, finally reduced to a sobbing mess under the force of it all, a lead brick on the back of a rain dear already carrying a mountain of hay they weren't summarily subsumed into the mass, damned to eternal suffering in a hell with no god to offer salvation nor devil to give any meaning to the suffering, just suffering, suffering until your mind broke and devolved into an incoherent mess and what remained was whittled away at until there was no more “you” they weren't they didn't look back they just ran they ran back to the pipe they came from they crawled as fast as they could through the pipes as they were followed by a rush of liquid flesh they ran and crawled and crawled and ran for felt like lifetimes until they reached the other side they were tired, yet they could still sense the pursuit, and so they continued until they found a cherrybomb, stuffed it in their mouth, and bit down until a pop turned their skull into colored rain.

with a shock like lightning, they awoke in their shelter once more

and there lay an eerie silence in the cold morning of the cycle as they performed the chore all who experience death have to do in the morning: determining if that was a real death, or a nightmare

they'd experienced death and they'd experienced nightmares, and that didn't feel like any nightmare but it couldn't have been real. they refused to believe it was real. it had to have been merely a strangely vivid nightmare

so when Survivor went to see moon, and moon despaired that they hadn't visited in over a year, when Survivor clearly recalled visiting last cycle, what more were they supposed to do but break down and sob?

#Rain world #rw survivor #horror #tw body horror #i wrote some shit. hooray!!!#rainworld #rain world downpour #rain world survivor #horror writing #rain world fic

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