#oh and this was why i was posting about timeloops earlier tee hee

[ailius-suffers-through-art]

The first death was for a purpose. Caught by the police, they had no choice. It was by their own hands or by torture. The desicion was simple, and they bit down on the capsule without remorse.

A cold sweat greeted skin. A consciousness awoke once more, startled by the shift in scenery. The clock on the nightstand of that crooked motel room read 4:25 AM. Bed sheets mussed in the same way as this morning and a familiar taste on their tongue. A dream?

A pager bipped, and the night muttered. The child stood and took their coat from the edge of the bed. Wrapping it around themself, they shivered.

Play, End, Rewind. 

A show from the 60s was on the tele, endlessly skipping through a broken up episode. 

Play, End, Rewind. What a rotten place this was.

The Revolutionary left through the window.

…

The second death was an accident. Distracted by the dream from last night, they didn’t notice one cop pulling out his gun. One of their brothers called out to them but it was too late. It was a clean shot through the head.

A cold sweat greeted skin. A consciousness awoke once more, agitated with tears in small eyes. The clock on the nightstand of that crooked motel room read 4:26 AM. Bed sheets mussed in the same way as this morning and a familiar taste on their tongue. It couldn’t be.

A pager bipped, and the night muttered. They bolted from the room, neglecting the coat. The morning was cold and the roof just high enough.

Play, End, Rewind. 

A show from the 60s was on the tele, endlessly skipping through a broken up episode. The man at the microphone laughed and the track warbled alongside him. 

Play, End, Rewind. Day would never break.

The child cracked the roof door open and approached the ledge.

…

The third death was intentional. Proof of concept. The child was never one for study, but at the very least they could remember the scientific method from class. A risk had to be taken.

A cold sweat greeted skin. A consciousness awoke once more, gasping for breath. The clock on the nightstand of that crooked motel room read 4:27 AM. Bed sheets mussed in the same way as this morning and a familiar taste on their tongue. So it was.

A small hand grabbed the pager before it could sound. The weapon snatched their coat from the edge of the bed and threw it on. God believed in freedom and quality, that was all that mattered. Corrupt officials be damned to the deepest pits of hell, for a deity must be on the people’s side.

Play, End, Rewind. 

A show from the 60s was on the tele, endlessly skipping through a broken up episode. There was no audience, only a man at a lone microphone. He laughed on his own and the screen shuddered with noise. The tape scratched itself.

Play, End, Rewind. Hope lived if for only a moment.

The window opened quietly and then there was no one.

…

The sixth death was done quickly in a stained bathroom with a boxcutter. A little below the jawline, appoximately 2 centimeters deep, just like brother taught them. Locate the pulse, aim, slice, and pray to god it works. There was no time, the easy way out dropped when a fist collided with their jaw. 

A cold sweat greeted skin. A conciousness awoke once more and threw itself from the bed hissing with rage. The clock on the nightstand of that crooked motel room read 4:30 AM. Bed sheets mussed in the same way as this morning and a familiar taste on their tongue.

Curse every putrid piece of shit that built the lie of God. There was no kind God who would allow this looping VHS, none who would permit the abuse of his citizens in this way. He must be dead or he must be cruel beyond belief.

A pager bipped and the being howled with anger, slamming a fist against the wall. There was no God. There was no God. Satan himself was on their side and that would have to be enough. 

The night was cold.

Play, End, Rewind.

A show from the 60s was on the tele, endlessly skipping through a broken up episode. The same as always. The broken man stood and laughed at his own jokes again and again. Static filled his eyes and mouth.

Play, End, Rewind. What use was hope in a world that hated you?

Teeth bared, the creature threw itself at the day with bitter hatred in its veins.

…

The three hundred and seventy sixth death was of desperation. Laid in a jail cell, all the being could do was wheeze until a bullet silenced the laughter. The first to be captured, abandoned by fraternity and frozen with vitrol. Over a year trapped in the same day. A broken rib and shattered jaw. It took longer than they would have liked for the shot to scatter their thoughts to mist.

Warm sheets greeted skin. A consciousness awoke once more, bleary and tired. The clock on the nightstand of that crooked motel room read 10:16 AM. Bed sheets mussed in the same way as this morning and a familiar taste on their tongue. The world and all its constituents ought to burn.

The sun filtered in through dusty curtains and the room was silent. Fingers fragile with exhaustion pulled the thin covers higher. It was cold and frightened, and shank away from the light as it crept closer.

Play, End, Rewind.

A show from the 60s was on the tele, endlessly skipping through a broken up episode. He stood there and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. He was abandoned. He laughed and his teeth chattered in the cold and his eyes were burned off the film. The joke was laughing at himself.

Play, End, Rewind. The VHS bled and stained the floor black.

In the dark, the scared animal cowered and stopped breathing.

…

The final death soothed a fragmented mind.

Hundreds of revolutions were won that day. Thousands of rebellions were crushed. One thousand three hundred and one deaths total.

Something licked its teeth and watched from the depths of hell. A man’s brain splattered against the back of his headboard and dripped in thick chunks. Satisfied, it retreated to the roof and lay on the cold tiles. Oppressive black smothered the kind moon and tidied the red mist that drowned the alleyways. Rust dripped from both brotherhood and dictatorship.

The thing closed its eyes and slept through the quiet night. 

…

Dawn broke over the horizon. Shivering, it curled into a ball. The porcelin was icy as it touched its skin.

The time on a pocketwatch read 4:25 AM. An eye cracked open to look at the sky. 

Blue lips trembled, and then smiled.