[original] The Masochist
Title: The Masochist
Author: Luna (dreamweavernyx )
Summary: Pleasure will eventually bring hurt.
Notes: Though this is tagged and categorized as 'original', it is in fact not exactly an orignal piece.
Rather, it is an entry for a Halloween contest on deviantART, in which Halloween versions of yuumei's works are done and submitted.
The piece I chose to base this one on is titled The Masochist. (It might make much more sense to view this first.)
~
The clock strikes twelve, the heavy chimes of the old grandfather clock echoing all around the apartment.
Chains of paper dolls lie strewn all around on the tiles of the bathroom floor, the once-pristine white tiles now stained with red.
How long has she been here?
She herself has no idea.
Time flows by like sand through a sieve, and here inside her little bathroom world, days melt into nights and nights melt into days, the constant sound of water drowning out and flushing away all sense of time.
A brief motion of hands, and the newest chain of paper dolls is ripped apart, and she watches as the gratifying red begins to drip down, staining her sticky hands with more red.
Sudden joy floods her heart for a brief moment as she imagines the screaming of the paper dolls, and she flings the chain onto the floor to join many other soggy ones.
She reaches for the scissors, and begins to cut a new chain.
Her ears prick up as a quiet rustle sounds in the empty room, and she looks up, startled.
But there’s nothing, nobody in the room except her and the destroyed paper dolls.
Shrugging, she turns her attention back to the new chain she is cutting.
This time, a papery voice cuts through the monotony of falling water.
Whywhywhywhywhywhy-
Her head jerks up again, and she could swear that, for a brief moment, one of the discarded paper dolls was looking at her.
She dismisses the thought a moment later, and turns her attention away from the faceless creation lying sadly on the floor.
There is nothing else for a while, and she finishes cutting out the chain, opening it up to admire her handiwork.
Murderer, she hears, this time a hoarse ghostly whisper next to her ear.
She slowly turns her head, and finds herself looking at the featureless face of a paper doll.
I must be imagining things, she says dryly, and moves her hand with the scissors to cut off the head of the offending paper doll.
But just as the scissors close in on the pale white head, the blades suddenly glow red and disintegrate into a million tiny metal shards.
You’ve murdered enough of our kin, whispers the voice, which seems to be coming from the paper doll facing her.
Suddenly, the wet leg of the paper doll trembles, and much to her shock, the paper doll takes a step forwards.
Did you know? it whispers, Paper dolls can be representations of souls too? Just like voodoo dolls, except we represent the souls of the departed.
It takes another floppy step forward, and suddenly a chain of wet paper dolls appears behind it, like a backing army.
Do you know what day it is today?
She blinks, and shakes her head mutely, too surprised by the turn of events to speak.
If the paper doll had a face, its mouth would have been twisted in a mocking leer.
It’s Halloween, says the voice, the day departed spirits visit the realm of the living.
Another floppy step closer, and its left foot squelches as it steps on an almost-gone bar of soap.
And frankly, it continues, we’re sick and tired of our incarnations being torn apart and brutally disfigured for no reason at all.
She loosens her grip on the red umbrella unconsciously, and the water begins to rain down on her, wetting her hair and making it stick to her face in a tangled mess.
Do you know what it feels like? To have your limbs and body torn apart excruciatingly slowly, piece by piece, bit by bit?
No, she manages to say, looking on apprehensively as the paper doll lets out what sounds like a sadistic cackle.
Well, would you like to find out?
Before she can say anything, a sharp pain cascades throughout her body, and her scream of pain is muffled as she sinks underwater in the full bathtub.
~
A week later, an officer from the government comes to check her water meter. Getting no answer when he knocks the door, he cautiously kicks it down, and hears running water from the bathroom.
He opens it, only to see a floating body half-submerged in the bathtub, mouth open in a scream, arms grotesquely twisted and legs shredded, streaks of blood all dried on the pale skin.
For some strange reason, there are paper dolls strewn all over the room, and one on the bathtub rim seems to be holding a knife.
It’s strange, but then again, paper dolls can’t kill anybody.
…Right?