Mediwhump May - IV/Cannula

Sean Bean in Sharpe’s Honour

Merry Whump of May - Day 8

“Did you read the fine print?”

Circle

Blinded

Field

(original characters/story)

@themerrywhumpofmay

“It’s the only way to know what happened here.” Rex shed his jacket and tossed it on the ground. The sun beat down upon them, searing and merciless. The cicadas sang and sang. With every weak breath of wind, the grass around them sighed and fluttered. The field was empty save for Rex, Stockton, Burden, and the last survivor. 

Rex rolled up his sleeves. “Stay back, all of you, until it’s done.”

“And how will we know when it’s done?” Stockton picked up Rex’s jacket.

Rex didn’t answer and walked towards the last survivor.

Tied to a stake in the middle of the field was a young woman. Was, a young woman. She had died three days ago and laid in the hot sun until now, and it showed. Rex had tracked her down and arrived too late. Always too late. 

The last survivor rasped and stood on unsteady legs as Rex approached. He needed to know what she knew. Tears stung Rex’s eyes as he drew closer. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I’m really sorry. We tried. We tried.”

The last survivor’s skin was bloated and dark with pooled blood. Where there were once eyes, dark, crusted sockets stared out at Rex. Rex looked up and saw the vultures responsible still circling overhead. Every so often, one flew close enough to noonday sun to blot it out. A shadow covering the field. Ragged and brief. 

Rex knelt as close as he dared. 

He had searched the minds of humans before and had become good at it. It was easy to read people, to open up their minds and read their innermost thoughts. But reading the dead? Something about it turned his stomach. It wasn’t the putrid flesh before him, or clicking teeth, but the act of uniting his mind with the dead.

Rex hadn’t told Stockton or Burden, but he wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t kill him. 

But he had promised to try. This last survivor, survivor no more, had known something important to their cause. And he owed it to her to try. He had to try.

Rex took the dead woman’s face in his hands and gently pushed the limp hair away from her sightless eyes. She tried to bite him. The bloody foam that oozed from her mouth and nose ran over his fingers, lukewarm and slimy. The stake and her bound arms held her back. Rex closed his eyes. The sun was harsh above and behind his eyelids he saw only red.

The last survivor rasped and gurgled. 

Rex took a deep breath. He began to read.

A moment. 

He began to scream.

The ground vibrated, shuddering and shaking. Waves in the field. A flock of birds flee, black dots against the pale, hot sky. The grass around Rex and the last survivor begins to die. It shriveled. It turned black. A circle of rotting darkness. Then, nothing. Only death.

Rex felt someone stroking his hair.

“You’re safe.” It was Burden’s voice. And Burden’s hand.

The rotting smell of the corpse still lingered in Rex’s senses, but Burden’s scent was chasing it away. 

Rex shifted a little. His muscles ached and his limbs shook with the effort. His head was resting on someone’s lap. Probably Burden.

“You’re safe?” Rex rasped. His throat was dry and sticky. He coughed.

“Yeah. Stocky’s getting you water. Hang on.”

Rex opened his eyes and saw nothing.

His heart clenched. 

Rex closed his eyes again, braced himself, and opened them. Nothing.

“Uh, Burden?” Rex reached out towards the hand in his hair. He gripped Burden’s rough, calloused fingers. 

“Yeah?”

“I can't see.”

Rex felt Burden become still and tense. Then Burden squeezed Rex’s hand.

A sigh. “Did you not read the fine print on those powers you got?”

Rex’s laugh was shaky. He felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye and trail down his cheek, pooling in his ear. “No, not really. Didn’t come with a manual, you know?”

“It'll come back.”

“Maybe. But I got the information. She saw where they went.” Rex didn’t think too hard about what he had seen when reading the dead woman. He had gotten what they needed and that was that.

Burden pulled Rex a little closer. “You shouldn’t have done this.” Burden spoke into Rex’s hair, his breath warm on Rex’s scalp.

Rex closed his eyes. He didn’t need them open.

Whumpay - Day 5

Main Challenge - Mad Science - Truth Potion/Serum/Spell Mini Challenge 5 - Torture - Recorded/Broadcast Torture Original Work - Blackburn

“How is he?”

Morgan Lynch stopped as he was passing the doorway to the parlor, took a step back, and saw Professor Collins sitting there.

“Oh.” Morgan tried to school his face into something less upset. “He’s fine. He’s…” Morgan trailed off, searching for the right words to describe it.

Ennis was upstairs in one of the guest bedrooms, tossing and turning. He was sweating and pale. His eyes were sunken. And Morgan had heard him muttering softly in his sleep. He was not well. That much was obvious.

“Sleeping.” Morgan finally said.

“Good, good.” Professor Collins gestured to the opposite armchair by the fire. “Would you join me?”

Morgan hesitated a moment more. He’d rather not. He’d rather sit in the kitchen and stew. But he nodded and smiled. “Thank you.” Morgan sat down opposite the professor.

“Tea?”

“Uh, no. Thank you though.” Morgan didn’t really like tea.

“Something stronger?” Professor Collins tried again.

Morgan shook his head and that made him notice his throbbing headache. This whole night was just too much for him. He was exhausted. And so very confused.

“It can be a bit of a shock, I’m afraid.” The professor stood up from his armchair, stroking his very white beard. It contrasted starkly with his dark mane of hair.

“What?”

Professor Collins limped over to an old phonograph and began to fiddle with it. “Mr. Ennis Hunnicutt’s gift.”

“Oh.”

Morgan could not help but have Ennis’s face flash before his mind’s eye, deathly white, with eyes rolled back, and speaking in that strange language. The syllables that Ennis had pronounced were chilling. Morgan didn’t understand why. But just remembering the sound of it. The way the unknown words wormed their way between his teeth, made it difficult to breathe, had Morgan’s heart racing even now.

Morgan cleared his throat and tried to calm himself. “Is it a gift?” He asked. It seemed more like a curse.

“Most certainly.” Replied Professor Collins. “In all my years of research, I have never found someone as gifted as he.”

Morgan swallowed hard. What did that mean? What kind of gift would do so much harm? “What is he?”

The professor straightened up. He was gingerly holding a wax cylinder. “A medium.” He answered. Seemed to consider it a moment, then added. “Of sorts.”

The professor held up the wax cylinder. “I have this here, a recording of one of Ennis’s trances, would you like to hear it?”

Morgan felt a wave of revulsion rise in him. “Why do you have-”

“It’s quite short, I assure you.” Professor Collins had already turned around and was loading the cylinder into the phonograph. “It was recorded years ago, when the Divine Order was still intact.”

The Divine Order? Morgan was lost. But he had no energy to object. In fact, he felt a sick sort of curiosity. Before he could decide whether he wanted to hear this recording or not, it began to play.

The sound was rough and difficult to make out in parts. But most of it was clear enough to understand.

A scratchy, high-pitched voice rang out first. A woman’s voice. “The twenty-second of December, in the year nineteen hundred and fourteen. And it is our Ennis’s birthday. He has been dosed with the serum and is ready to speak with us.”

There was a shuffling sound. Then more speaking. “Ennis, my darling, can you hear me?”

A pause.

And then, Morgan’s heart clenched.

“Yes, I can hear you.” It was a young boy’s voice. A child. He spoke dreamily, doubtless due to the substance they had given him.

“Make the first cut.” The scratchy-voiced woman ordered.

Young Ennis cried out in pain over the recording.

Morgan jumped to his feet, his lips tingling as he felt the blood drain out of his face.

The recording continued, Ennis’s sobs becoming a soft background melody to the scratchy woman’s voice. She spoke a string of strange syllables that rang nauseatingly familiar.

The sobs ceased suddenly.

Then, young Ennis began to drone, slurring his words. “The Eater of Stars, Endless Maw, approaches. Nearer and nearer-”

“Make the second cut!” The woman screeched.

Morgan felt sweat break out on his forehead.

Young Ennis cried out again, the sob turning into a long wail and more words. “The Eye is open and we shall all walk through the doorway. Arrival! Arrival is nigh!”

“The third cut!”

“I am the Tooth of the Eater! I will bite the Stars!”

A shuffling sound and the high-pitched breathy voice of the woman rang out. “Where is the doorway, Ennis? Tell us where it is!”

“Burning black. The teardrop.” Ennis’s voice slowed to a drawl again. He struggled to speak. “The… Eye is… The Eye open.”

“Bind the wounds. He’s bleeding too much.” The woman hissed. “Ennis? My darling? Stay awake, please.”

Someone in the background cried out. “Call the doctor!”

Then silence.

Morgan started. Professor Collins had stood up as well and was unloading the wax cylinder from the phonograph. Morgan ran a hand down his face and took a deep breath.

“What the devil was that?” He spat.

The professor looked up, surprised but still calm. “As I said, it is a recording of one of Ennis’s trances.”

“But-” Morgan searched for words. “They were mutilating him. He was a child. I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain.” Came a soft voice from the parlor doorway.

Morgan whirled around. Ennis stood there, still waxen pale and sweating. He looked so weak, leaning on the doorway for support. His eyes stood out starkly in his face, the firelight flickering in them.

The Outfit (2022): “The Wound Needs To Be Sealed. We Have To Stop This Bleeding.”

[PART 1] [PART 2]

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Whumptober 2022 | No. 19: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

knees buckling | repeatedly passing out | head lolling

Blood & Treasure s02e13: “Danny. Hey. Wake up. Help’s on the way. Help’s on the way.” — “I’m sorry I’m bleeding all over you.”

2x11 || 2x13

“You’re safe, Leo. It’s me.”

            “Mattie.”