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twst-drabbles · 1 year ago

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(Zine) The World, Chewed and Spat Out

Summary: The horror zine piece, as it was.

(Whoops, forgot to post the original piece, my bad.)

What do they see in front of themselves? Is it the natural painting of the world? Of the sea-salt breeze and the gentle ocean waters lapping at their feet as they walk across the bay? Of a bleeding-orange sky with a sun that leaves its final rays on the sand before finally having its rest?

No, no of course they don’t see that. That’s simply a memory. The Ramshackle Prefect’s steps give pause to a thing they would’ve once called a seashell, but it crawled and pulsed. Black little roots seek out their bare flesh, and while the urge to stomp it out of existence was there, the nostalgia over seeing the shape of a seashell had them walking around it and continuing on.

They can no longer look out into the sea and see graceful waters. They could only see foamy tongues as they climbed higher and higher into the sky, as though it wanted to consume the sun. The winds that once whispered their songs now howl with heat and rot. And the sands were now lumpy with makeshift graves and scavenging creatures alike.

The only solace that could be found was at the end of their road, where a solitary Azul was.

Well, at least someone once named Azul.

“Oh, it’s been a while. You look…”

He stands in the waves, without shoes, without weight as he turns around like a gentle curl of sea foam.

“Hmm? I look? How do I look to you?” Azul goaded, even though it was clear he knew the answer.

“…happier. That’s quite the smile on your face. It almost doesn’t suit you, Azul.” As though to shield themselves from the sight, they closed their eyes.

“Am I not supposed to express my absolute jubilation at the presence of a friend?” “That’s quite a thing to say.”

“The last time you smiled like that, I nearly lost my dorm along with my friends. So, excuse the pause, I got caught up in those memories.” The Prefect didn’t touch the water, didn’t join by Azul’s side, but sat down on a flat spot of sand nonetheless.

“For peace of mind, I’d advise casting away such things. Nostalgia, while a versatile tool in any given sale or product, is useless here,” Azul fully faced them, bending at the waist to fully look into his friend’s face, the dying rays creating shadows upon his face, “Useless when it comes to me.”

The Prefect gave a laugh that was more air than voice, “Useless… certainly, very, very useless.”

He reached out a hand, not taking a single step out of the sea, “Let it all wash away, friend. No one would blame you for doing so.”

There was a smile upon their face. It perfectly matched his own in all its plastic glory, “Friend… you keep calling me that.”

“Is that wrong?”

“It’s not right either. You never called me that before.” Prefect, they without magic, the errand person, a number of different monikers, but never friend, “And friends certainly don’t leave and show up however they please after going missing.”

Azul shrugged, “Does time really matter when it comes to meeting with old friends? The truest ones are the ones that can wait centuries and still have nothing change.”

“In a way, I suppose something hasn’t.” They raised their knees and rested their head against them, “Changed, that is.”

“Really? And what would that be?”

“You’re still the type to come and go only when you want something. Rarely do you give anyone the time of day — like a single second will somehow topple your monetary empire.” When one’s empire makes up the tower of their being, its emperor will do anything to keep it standing tall.

“But there are more valuable things than money. You make it sound like that’s all I ever cared about.”

To the one known as the Ramshackle Prefect, it’s certainly easy to see him in that light. However, such an impression was never permanent, as evidenced by their fond smile.

“Right right, there are people, after all. Those that can bring in more of what you value. Such as those eels. Or that resident right there.“

The beach was not as familiar a place as, say, the stringy lines of kelp that Azul would often hide in as a child. As warm, beautiful, and fascinating as this place was, it was simply too open, too vast. The sun wasn’t supposed to be this large orb of light in a changing sky. It was supposed to be stray rays through unstable waters that find themselves lucky to hit the sea bed. The clouds weren’t supposed to be perfectly white and reflective. They were meant to be large dollops of sea foam that languidly drift by in their scummy form.

Azul never felt truly comfortable on the beach, as close as it was to home, but he can’t deny the beauty of it. Though, whatever stability he managed to grasp overtime was being tested. As, in front of him, was something that Azul could have only described in his head as a monster.

“These, creatures,” Azul almost wanted to say ‘things’ but decorum dictated he keep his true thoughts under a veil of polite words, “have a name? Truly?”

Besides, who was Azul to insult prospective contract signers? Just because this once-human creature had their skeleton blooming out of their skin like fatty flower petals didn’t mean they were any less deserving of respect. Well, as much respect as the value of this golden contract in his hands had. The more use he has out of this creature, the more he’s willing to extend some of his carefully cultivated olive branches.

However, Azul has many doubts as to whether he can make this creature do anything. By all means, it looked no different than a corpse, despite the fact it didn’t smell like it. In fact, it didn’t smell of anything horrible. The sunlight reflected off of the delicate bones stained red with mucus and coagulating viscera, an odd black mass that beat within the cage of its ribs, and yet anything below that was still of warm flesh that twitched against the sand they all stood on. All this, and yet no scent.

Azul’s stomach was still tight, and the doll-like stillness of this creature the Ramshackle Prefect had dragged from the sea did nothing to comfort that.

“Everything has a name, Azul,” they spoke as they drew in the sand in a language Azul will never understand, “Though, not all of us are equipped to hear it. And not all of us should try and learn them. Let alone say them.”

They spoke to him of their name and its meaning but the Prefect never told him what it actually was. Just another piece of information that he will never learn no matter how hard he or Jade may search the internet. They only told Azul a first name, a potentially fake first name.

Time had passed since the raid of his vault and the destruction of his paper collection, and yet still Azul refused to speak of the Prefect’s human name. They never once commented on that, and Azul isn’t sure if he should be irritated or relieved.

“A warning like that makes me think that I shouldn’t attempt to make a deal with this… friend of yours.” If even its very name was a danger, a curse waiting to be cast, it wouldn’t do him or his customers any good to have it near.

“And yet you stand here with a contract at hand, with your feet still in the sand,” they pointed out and extended their hand, as though to invite him near. “If you tell me you’re a cautious individual, don’t get angry when I laugh in your face.”

And how can Azul fault them for that? One look at the company he keeps would speak of his nature as a risk taker.

Even so, he sighed as he extended the contract to the creature that sat below them both. “Does it need a pen?”

This creature, with its skull empty of any eyes save for the slugs that rested within, signed a name Azul could not read, with a finger dyed in the ink of its chest organ. The creature was embraced by the tide as it rose past his knees and soaked the once dry sand.

Azul was compelled to give an order. “Bring more of your brethren to me. As many as you can.”

It sank beneath the waves.

The contract in his hands was the only evidence that it ever existed.

“Did you know?” Azul drummed his fingers on the head of the first creature the Prefect brought to him.

“Know what?”

“That I was Ɔ̸͍̠̳̈́̎̊ʞ̷̳̥̭̀̔͗ǐ̴̠̞̲̈́̚ɿ̷̨̥̥̍͛́Ɉ̶̳͓̤͆̏̈́-̷͉̱͍̋̆̉Я̶̨̠̻̉̂̚ɒ̷̤̘̬͆̓̈́l̶̛͔̯͖̑͝ first promise? Rather romantic, don’t you think?” The skull under Azul’s fingers lost its structure and became inky sludge. It blended into his shadow, swallowed as though water to a sponge. ”It’s a memory that still lingers. A memory gifted to us all.”

“…So, contracts are promises to you now, are they?”

“Is that wrong?”

“To you, I suppose it isn’t.” Contracts, promises, oaths, all those things mean the same to the one named Azul. A piece of one’s being put on a platter for others to witness, and for Azul to grab and manipulate as he pleased. At least, that’s how he once was, before the Prefect ripped all of them away from his greedy hands. “The distinctions are already lost to you.” Dead, gone, never to return, “No use in trying to make corrections if you’ve already forgotten.”

Dipping his hand into the surging tides, Azul pulls out papers of glittering gold. It’s a sight that would catch the attention of anyone. A gaudy shine, and yet the prefect leaned in as though in front of a comforting campfire.

“This color, you seem to like it,” he waved them about, and in an instant, as though a blooming drop of paint, the ocean became just as vibrant as the pages in his hands, “though, despite these contracts once being an open gateway for us all, for whatever reason, there is nothing stirring within.”

“How odd,” they replied, only speaking to reflect Azul’s thoughts rather than their own. They knew the reason why, but there’s no point.

“I have to ask…why?” The contracts, in all their glittering gold, had long since lost their appeal to Azul. “Why rely on the one named Azul to reign these ‘guests’ in line?”

“Because of your love for the material.” The sea sought to lap at his defeater’s feet, but they inched away at the last moment. “I trusted in that selfishness of yours.”

“Trust…” Azul let the contracts dissolve into tar bubbles, “You still can, if you wish.”

“...trust in you?”

“If not in me,” His voice was layered with others, of familiar tones and hisses. A drop of ink fell from the corner of his mouth as an array of fused bones tore through the side of his torso, “then is there someone else you want to trust? Go on, take your pick. If you want, you can have all of them.”

Familiar skulls hang from the blooming bone tree like fruit. At the top, one can see the structures that make up Jade and Floyd, their jaws loose, as though frozen in a mournful wail.

Take your pick. As though they are gifts.

It was comforting, this high tide. The cold feel of the sea over his legs, the scent of salt that entered his nose, all of it almost made him want to take everything off and swim in the form he hated to show others. However, that’s not what Azul’s here for.

The raised waters refused to go back and in some part of his mind that still slept, Azul knew that there would be someone within the greedy sea. This was part of the contract, after all, and it had been too many days since the first visit.

The bloated swell of these waves told him that something, or someone was coming. And there was that odd, misplaced smell in the air that Azul couldn’t quite put his finger on but he recognized. He wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for the Ramshackle Prefect’s word guaranteeing his safety.

The contract you made is as strong as a faerie’s promise. You’ll be fine. Go to the sea. You can feel it calling for you, right?

“Ah, how nice,” Floyd drawled out as he stomped and splashed around with his legs. “Hey, Azul, can I go for a swim? Just for a bit. I don’t think I’ll ever get to swim in currents as strong as these.”

And it was only because of their curiosity that Azul managed to convince Jade and Floyd to come with him.

Azul pushed up his glasses, “Be my guest. If you see any ‘stray fishes,’ be sure to chase them our way. Perhaps they’ll be in need of some directions.”

The words brought a polite smile to Jade’s face and a feral one to Floyd’s own. Floyd dove into the sea, not caring where his clothes may land.

Jade placed a hand over his chest as he said, “Then, I’ll be sure to greet our guests when they come.”

Azul gave a clean clap of his hands, allowing a few, almost giddy chuckles escape him. “Be sure to attend to them. Give them our warmest welcome.”

And in droves they came. In their various blood and ink limbs, pearls the size of heads, glowing magic crystals that can only be collected from the crushing pressure of the bottom of the sea, coins from long lost ships, artifacts that are thought to be only in legends.

How could anyone blame Azul for embracing those gifts?

And how could anyone blame him for his ignorance? It was only natural for Azul to have Jade and Floyd follow this hoard. If he can find the source of their treasures, then he can have these vile creatures focus on other things, on menial chores that never seem to get done.

How was Azul supposed to know that it would take months before they came back?

“Do you regret it at all,” they asked as they wiped a hand over the sand, “making your home this way?”

“Why mourn? What is there to lament?” Azul knew that expression upon the Prefect’s face. “Bear witness to all of my efforts! Of what I…of what we have brought to this dry and empty world. Is it not wonderful?”

If one digs their fingers into the various mounds, they’d find beautiful gold coins. If one dances on the shores, they’ll find many faces, many friends wishing to dance with them.

“It is beautiful. Like an attempt to restore a painting, only for the original vision to be snuffed and covered with the restorer’s own. The attempt is a sight to behold, if only as a reminder of what you, well, all of you can’t do.”

Of course, the designs of those coins were nonsensical. Heads can be tails and tails can be heads. It wasn’t made by human hands. They won’t rust, they’ll simply turn to dust. And those dancers, their faces, features and bodies don’t matter. They don’t exist, they can’t be anyone’s partner. They come forth and fade like a distant dream.

They’ve all existed as something else, this the Prefect knows, but much like everything else, it was all swallowed up and spat back out like noxious bile. Azul called it beautiful.

“…and what would that be, dear friend?”

The last dear friend found a sand dollar, one of the few pieces left of an old world. It is a comfort, knowing what lays in their head wasn’t just an illusion.

“Originality. You cannot make. You cover, warp, and replace.”

They held the sand dollar close, away from the writhing tendrils of ink and rot that wanted to stab at what they missed. And that expression under all that sludge, one would think all of them angry. The bubbles popped and spat out shrapnels of bone.

The Ramshackle Prefect did not move. They continued to admire the sand dollar, not caring for the barrage, not twitching even a bit. And they gained not a scratch.

A large tide, as though picked up by the hands of the wind, rose to lick the clouds before crashing upon the mass unable to exit the ocean. The sea of gold turned back into dark and murky depths, refusing to reflect the sun’s dying rays.

“Once upon a time,” Azul spoke, looking like his human self again, “those sand dollars used to be a viable currency, somewhere.”

“And not any more?” they asked as they tapped it.

“No. What value is there in the perishable?”

“Aren’t all things?” The sand turned smooth and they allowed themselves to relax back.

“Perishable? Of course, at one point in time. But it won’t stay that way.” Azul too sat down. There was no discomfort in the cold waves washing over his shoulders.

“And yet it will persist.” They clipped.

“The sand dollars?”

“Perishing will still persist for all things.” They smiled, as though the thought was comforting.

“Including you and I?” Azul’s voice whispered.

“Including you and I.“ The Prefect’s voice was clear.

“Don’t make jokes like that. We’re here to enjoy the last of this place. Of course the sand dollars are still here. Of course the sun still sets. We’re experiencing the last of the temporary.” He laughed but there was no mirth there.

“Careful there, you’re getting frustrated.” They replied in turn.

“Can it be helped? To imply that all the hard work that’s been done, all the strings that had to be pulled, to imply that somehow or another, that we are temporary? It’s more than a little laughable.”

“Then laugh all you want,” they quietly chuckled, “I won’t turn away from such a fact. I refuse to ignore it, no matter how comforting that would be.”

When Jade and Floyd came back, they brought in seeds and various forms of meat. To Azul’s eye, there was nothing wrong with them, save for the dubiousness of their origins. However, all things are subject to his scrutinizing eye when the Leech brothers bring him anything.

Even so, Azul had full confidence that whatever they brought back would not hurt him or his customers. How could he doubt them after they were missing for months? He was comforted that they came back at all. Of course, he would never say that to their faces, the smile they would give would make Azul want to retreat to the nearest pot.

Soft and squishy, real chewable, that heart of yours.

The Prefect of Ramshackle told him only a few days after Jade and Floyd returned. They weren’t smiling. Azul was still in that state of celebratory high, still falling from that peak of happiness that Azul wasn’t truly alone again. So when the next words left their mouth, he couldn’t keep himself from wrapping his fingers around their neck.

It’s tragic, truly, that they were swallowed and spat back out. Tell me Azul, how do your kind arrange funerals?

He didn’t want to hear it. He had to squeeze their neck to shut them up. Who were they to burden him with these words, to reach into his head and wretch out the guilt that's been buried for days?

It doesn’t matter that Jade and Floyd refuse to say where they’ve been. It doesn’t matter that their heights fluctuate and that their skin was too tight for their bones. It doesn’t matter that the treasure they hauled up grew in their storage like a parasitic fungus over their other things.

It didn’t even matter when Jade and Floyd’s legs one day melted into one another. All that mattered to Azul was that they were back, that they remembered him, and spoke with him.

“…Hello there, Jade. Took you long enough to take interest in this conversation.“

No matter how seamlessly the form may change, it always looked painful when one’s face was swapped with another. It resembled a rapidly growing infection that boiled the skin and changed its color before it finally settled down into a recognizable shape.

“I didn’t think you had it in you to drive him away,” he mused, hand on his mouth as though he was truly shocked, “was his company so grating that you needed another conversation partner?”

“I don’t need one,” they flecked sand at Jade, as though that’ll do anything. In the many faces of one that can corrode a world, their anger will mean nothing, “though, I can’t say you’re wrong. But it’s not as if you’re any better.”

“Then how about me?”

A sharp slice, like a butcher’s knife through fresh meat. Jade was split clean down the middle. The left half fell into the waters, frothing as tainted oil would, before Floyd rose with a sharp grin that had too many teeth to count. Jade’s side oozed out ink, solidified, then he looked like himself again, as though nothing had ever happened.

There’s no need for them to worry about pain. Not ever again.

The Prefect stared, eyes reflecting a soft and dying light, “No matter the face, conversations with you will always be grating. But I am lonely, and I’m a fool that cares too much.”

“Does it really matter though?” Floyd leaned back, giving his arms a good stretch, “It’s not like Jade and I went anywhere. We’re just…”

“Part of an interesting whole,” Jade had his hand over his heart, as though talking about a friend.

“It was gross at first. Hurt a lot too,” and yet, Floyd shrugged, “But eh, don’t really care about it anymore. Nothing much we can do about it anyway.”

The Prefect closed their eyes, giving a low, shaking sigh. There wasn’t even a spirit in there for rebellion.

“This is for the best,” Jade says, “at the time, it was our best chance for survival.”

“Yeah, and in these cold waters, taking the time to weigh the pros and cons will get you killed.” Floyd says.

They hold no lamentations about being seen as one and the same. The truth was made clear to Jade and Floyd that they were two entirely different people. The whispers and sayings of others hold no influence over this singular truth. The little humans can speak all they want, be confused all they want. It provides entertainment to them all the same.

They are twins, but the word was nothing special to them. Unlike humans, children of Jade’s and Floyd’s species are plentiful. They come from a clutch, but only a few are expected to survive. And in order for them to live, they became partners, and only then did they acknowledge each other as twins once the fight was over.

And when they graduated from simply just trying to live another day, they decided they needed to have fun. It’s why Jade and Floyd have taken to Azul so. Though, how they choose to play along with Azul is vastly different.

Floyd wanted something to thrill him. When Azul gave the okay to chase after this hoard he made a contract with, Floyd was hoping to encounter something gross, rotted, like the leftovers of a half-eaten fish. The creatures that left all those gifts moved so slowly and looked so squishy that he really wanted to see how easy they were to tear apart.

Emotionally of course.

Jade, on the other hand, was not interested in messing with Azul’s new henchmen. He’s aware that there are many odd creatures in this world, though to actually bear witness to them was another thing entirely. So, Jade had to watch them. He needed to see their place of rest, how they moved in the sea, and how in the world did they manage to survive for so long when they seem to have no survival skills of their own.

After all, it was the Ramshackle Prefect that found one of their kind.

There was a cave, a yawning opening of one in the middle of flat, undisturbed sand. It had no reason to be there. The stone it was made out of had a texture similar to coral, and yet the currents haven't smoothed it down at all. There was nothing to protect this cave. And yet the various life forms that have been taken in by Azul squeezed into it.

Jade and Floyd went in after them.

They dove into a cave that yawned to no one, with nothing to keep it company.

They swam in a sea that gradually got warmer and warmer as the light faded, as the gentle song of currents slowly faded away.

In that small little twist that had Jade and Floyd swimming downwards, bubbles brushed past their skin. Little flecks of black worms swam up, crawled over them.

Then, they were snared by a gaze, by millions of eyes right at the bottom of that seemingly endless cave. It was bright. It was captivating. It radiated warmth.

And it was lonely. Millions upon millions of different eyes, so many different voices and memories, and yet it was so lonely.

With one simple look, it has shared its longing with Jade and Floyd. Their skin, their head, their spine, their organs and even their blood, all of it felt the weight of loneliness.

All of them became alight with a searing pain, as though they were taken apart and spread across a mountain of salt.

Join, or forever have this body scream for its missing self.

“It hurts, you know? Nobody deserved any of this. And I don’t deserve to be alone.”

“Then, what should we do, to have you join us? Your loneliness hurts to witness. We do not wish hurt upon our kin.”

This monster no longer reflects the faces of anyone the Prefect used to know. It has become the sea, a small part of the sky, and is even infecting the sand they sit upon.

But they do not run. They simply breathed in the breeze. It no longer haunts their lungs.

“…let me enjoy this air, while I still have it,” they want this small mercy, “if I am to gift my memories to the rising tides, I’d rather witness the last bit of what used to be.”

“Then you will join?”

“Then I will join.”

Once the winds have traveled their path, once the sun has closed its brilliant eye, and once all the stars have blinked out of the sky, there will be the sound of the last pair of legs plunging into the ocean.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #the world chewed and spat out #octavinelle #eldritch au #zine #horror zine

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