Seven Days of Spooky: day 7
Happy Halloween everyone! Hope you're having a great Spookyday!
Transformation
Author: illwynd
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: One way to make an Orc.
Notes: Written for the Halloween Drabble Masquerade at BoG.
He was alone. Terrible things had been done to him, but he had ceased to mind the pain. Only this terrified him: his memories had slowly eroded to darkness, until he didn’t know what he had forgotten.
His own hand moved upward and touched his face like a stranger’s.
A bowl of water had been shoved under the door. It sloshed over onto the dirt floor before shivering to stillness. As he reached for it, torchlight shone through the cracks in his prison.
His fingernails, broken like glass, left red trails along his skin.
It had been a mirror in the gloom, showing him a mangled thing. He had spilled all the water in his horror. He wished he had not seen it, for now he could no longer remember what he used to look like.
He scratched at the skin that was not his own. Somehow it had grown over his face like mold. He tore open the boils and scraped at the scabs.
It was no use. The face was his now.
Dark blood dripped in his eyes, down his cheeks, into his lolling mouth. He shuddered.
Its mouth drank his fear, and swallowed it down like bitterness.
Transformation
Author: illwynd
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: One way to make an Orc.
Notes: Written for the Halloween Drabble Masquerade at BoG.
He was alone. Terrible things had been done to him, but he had ceased to mind the pain. Only this terrified him: his memories had slowly eroded to darkness, until he didn’t know what he had forgotten.
His own hand moved upward and touched his face like a stranger’s.
A bowl of water had been shoved under the door. It sloshed over onto the dirt floor before shivering to stillness. As he reached for it, torchlight shone through the cracks in his prison.
His fingernails, broken like glass, left red trails along his skin.
It had been a mirror in the gloom, showing him a mangled thing. He had spilled all the water in his horror. He wished he had not seen it, for now he could no longer remember what he used to look like.
He scratched at the skin that was not his own. Somehow it had grown over his face like mold. He tore open the boils and scraped at the scabs.
It was no use. The face was his now.
Dark blood dripped in his eyes, down his cheeks, into his lolling mouth. He shuddered.
Its mouth drank his fear, and swallowed it down like bitterness.