Whumpay - Day 5
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.
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MEDIWHUMP MAY PROMPTS
Mediwhump May. It's dirty medicine.
Welcome to Mediwhump May. 31 days, 31 prompts. The only limit is your imagination.
Don't forget to tag @mediwhumpmay and use your tags #mediwhumpmay
IV /Cannula
Stitches
Seizure
Pain
No Response
Needlephobic
First Night in Hospital
Scared of Blood
Oxygen
Short of Breath
Withdrawal
"Just one more sip."
Surgery
Loss of Consciousness
Nausea / Vomiting
Dizzy
"Stay awake for me."
Stabbing
Emergency Room
Breakdown
Field Medicine
Doctor Becomes the Patient
Bleeding Out
"We've got you now." / "You're safe."
Shaking
Sedation
Car Crash
No Screaming
Head Injury
Choke
Ambulance Ride
Bonus / Alternative Prompts
No Pain relief
Infection
Poisoning
Broken Bones
Teeth
Calling all lovers of darkfic, grimdarks, creepypastas, and scary stories! I had yet to see a monthly writing event themed around horror, so I made one! The event will occur in September, so you have plenty of time to get ready.
If you feel like participating, tag your fills with #horrortember2024, and I'll reblog as many as I can! Fanfic is strongly encouraged, but original fiction is accepted as well. And, depending on how many people join, I'll post a list of completionists or participants at the end of the month!
A written list of prompts is under the cut:
1. AND THIS HAS ALWAYS BEEN WHAT I DESERVE, FOR MY TEETH TO JUST FALL OUT: body horror, parasite, gore
2. BUT THEY SAW SOMETHING THAT’S REAL: pretending to be human, identical, visceral
3. WHO’S AFRAID OF THE BIG BAD WOLF: vampires, zombies, werewolves
4. IT’S ALWAYS BEST WHEN THE LIGHTS ARE OFF: music, silence, echoes
5. BURIED ABOVE THE GROUND: dust, overgrown, forgotten
6. WHAT HAVE I DONE: losing memories, possession, cursed
7. DREAMLESS SLEEP: sick, survivor, injury
8. NOW ONLY DOGS WILL FOLLOW ME: cannibalism, eaten alive, maggots
9. HAVE YOU HEARD THE STORY OF THE RABBIT IN THE MOON: meta, cosmic horror, forbidden knowledge
10. WE DIDN’T GO IN THERE ALONE: hunted, solitary, darkness
11. YOU CAN’T RUN FROM ME FOREVER: obsession, yandere, overpowering emotions
12. I WEEP AND SAY GOODNIGHT, LOVE, AS MY ORGANS PACK IT IN: doomsday, apocalypse, certain death
13. WHAT DO YOU KNOW: nightmare, prophecy, inevitable
14. I CAN MAKE THE WORLD SEEM SLOW: polaroid, motel, record player
15. DON’T KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE: doll, reflection, facet
16. NEVER SHALL WE DIE: immortality, decay, cyclical
17. WHAT DID YOU BURY BEFORE THOSE HANDS PULLED ME FROM THE EARTH: oops, self-made monster, playing god
18. SHE’LL SAY SHE LOVES YOU, EVEN THOUGH SHE ONLY WANTS TO STEAL YOUR SOUL: haunting the narrative, inseparable, devotion
19. ARE YOU ALIVE, AM I AWAKE: chills, hallucinations, paranoia
20. IN THE RED, YOU’RE BETTER OFF DEAD: hunger, craving, unconventional needs
21. HOW DO I BREAK YOU BEFORE YOU BREAK ME: unreliable narrator, serial killer, manipulation
22. THERE IS NO END: help isn’t coming, final girl, trauma
23. LIFE CAN BE LIKE A DREAM: gone wrong, descent into madness, distrust
24. HEAR THEM LAUGHING UNDERNEATH: hollow, below the surface, remnants
25. I’LL SAY GOODBYE SOON: timeloop, lesson learned, consequence
26. NO CURE IS COMING NEAR: animals, rabies, primal fears
27. WHY DON’T YOU LET ME BE FREE: hanahaki, soulmates, trope inversion
28. AND THEN HE STARTED LAUGHING UNTIL HE CRACKED HIS JAW: butterflies, roses, sunshine
29. WHERE LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL ALL THE TIME: man-made, perfection, out of place
30. YOU ARE CALLED TO THE TREES: climb, descend, mass migration
whumptober 2021 - day 8 ↳ coughing up a lung
Peter Rumancek, Hemlock Grove 2x01
Whumpay - Day 10
Main Challenge - Attacks, Mental & Physical - Panic Attack Mini Challenge 10 - Dialogue - “You look awful.” Original Work - (No title yet)
Kemp knocked softly on the apartment door then leaned his head on it. It was cool. And he was hot. And sweating. And so very tired. The door wasn’t opening. Cyril wasn’t opening the door.
Kemp swallowed hard and knocked again. He waited even longer this time. Still nothing. His heart rate ramped up and he felt his hands and feet grow cold. His stomach lurched.
Kemp tried the knock they had agreed on one more time. He waited and waited and waited. Nothing.
The edges of Kemp’s vision grew blurry and cloudy. He reeled back and kicked the door. Once. Twice. It banged open, the wood around the bolt cracked and splintered. Kemp’s hand went for the gun at his side: the gun that wasn’t there. Shit. He pulled the knife from his boot instead.
Kemp checked the living room. “Cyril!”
Sweat dripped from his forehead, stinging his eyes. He was so hot and freezing at the same time.
Kemp checked the kitchen. The kettle was on and boiling. “Cyril!” He tried to breathe but all he could do was gasp. His heart raced. As Kemp paced into the bedroom, knife ready, the floor tilted sideways and he had to lean on the wall to stay upright.
The shower was running. It sounded like a waterfall. So loud.
“Cyril?!”
“What?”
Kemp turned.
Cyril was there. Coming out of the bathroom. Towel around his waist. And safe.
Cyril was safe.
Kemp dropped the knife. The carpet came up to meet him. Kemp felt like he was dying. Why was he dying? Why couldn’t he breathe?
Cyril was saying something but Kemp couldn’t hear him.
Kemp opened his eyes.
When had his eyes closed?
He was on his side, his head resting on something soft. Someone was stroking his hair. His cheek throbbed.
“Are you with me?” Cyril asked, his voice coming from above.
Kemp turned his head a little. He was resting on Cyril’s lap while Cyril ran his fingers through his hair. The shower was still running.
“Yeah.” Kemp whispered. “I’m with you.”
“Good.” Cyril leaned down and kissed Kemp’s forehead.
That was new. Fainting was new too. But kisses especially so.
“You look awful.” Cyril smiled down at him.
“Can’t imagine why.” Kemp tried to sit up but the world tilted again.
Cyril eased him back down to the floor and kept his head in his lap. “Careful there. You had a panic attack maybe. Give it a minute.”
“Don’t have panic attacks.”
“Well, you do now. What happened? Why were you looking for me?”
“Didn’t answer the knock.” Kemp closed his eyes. The towel was thin about Cyril’s thighs and his body heat was soothing. “Thought something happened.”
“You had a panic attack over me?” Kemp could hear the smile in Cyril’s voice.
“It’s not funny.” Kemp grumbled.
“I’m not laughing.” Kemp felt Cyril’s breath as he leaned down over Kemp’s ear and kissed his hair.
Kemp turned his head. And met Cyril’s lips with his own.
“You are laughing at me.” Kemp breathed into Cyril’s mouth.
“Never.” Cyril whispered, and kissed him again.
Merry Whump of May - Day 5
“Do unto others as you would bla bla bla…”
Bow and Arrow
Stalking
Cavern
(BBC Merlin)
@themerrywhumpofmay
“Quick, it went this way!” Prince Arthur hissed, leading the way into the cave.
Merlin furrowed his brow, panting, and shifted his pack further up on his shoulder. He stopped at the threshold of the cave entrance and looked up at the rocky ceiling and darkness within. Arthur was rapidly disappearing, his quiver of arrows on his back the last thing to vanish.
Something curdled in Merlin’s gut. They should not be going into this cave.
Besides, why would a startled deer run into a cave for safety?
A moment later, Merlin ducked into the cool dim shadows of the rock. He followed Arthur as best as he could, stumbling over loose stones.
“Torch!” Arthur whispered from somewhere up ahead. “Now, Merlin!”
Merlin swung the bag off his shoulder and grabbed one of the torches, fumbling with his flint.
When he raised the lit torch, hissing with fire, Arthur sighed. The Prince turned back.
“Finally.”
“Sorry.” Merlin grumbled.
Arthur continued into the cave.
“Do you-” Merlin started, but Arthur shushed him.
Merlin lowered his voice to a whisper. “Do you really think the deer ran in here?”
“Where else would it go?”
They had lost sight of the doe several times in the chase. Merlin speculated that it was probably anywhere in the forest but here.
“I suppose.” He sighed, following the Prince.
As they walked, Merlin noticed something dark on the cave walls. He paused. Then moved over to it and raised the torch. The cave wall was covered in paintings. Very old paintings. In colors of dark brown, black, and reddish clay. And it looked like they were all paintings of the same thing.
Merlin swung the torch around. The entire cave was covered in paintings of bears.
Very large bears.
“Uhh, Arthur?” Merlin took a few steps back, back towards the entrance of the cave. “Arthur, I think we should go.”
Arthur turned back to Merlin, face illuminated in the torchlight. “Really, Merlin? It’s just a cave!”
The torchlight also illuminated a pair of yellow reflective eyes in the darkness behind Arthur. They blinked once.
“Arthur, run!” Merlin cried, and ran towards him.
Arthur faced the eyes and a low growl echoed around them, so loud that it bounced and seemed to come from all sides at once. Arthur raised his bow and nocked arrow, letting it fly towards the beast in the darkness.
An earsplitting roar shook the cave.
They ran together. Stumbling and falling towards the distant daylight. The torch went out. Darkness fell suddenly. Merlin lost track of Arthur. The beast’s snorting and rumbling growls coming from all sides at once.
He was blind.
Merlin fell to the ground. His head bounced off a rock. Something wet and hot trickled down the side of his face.
He peered into the darkness, using his gift to part the gloom for his eyes.
He saw Arthur on the ground.
He saw a massive bear over him.
Merlin scrambled over. He jumped between the Prince and the bear.
He had to stop it. So they could escape.
Merlin extended a hand to the cave ceiling and reached with magic. Reached, and twisted, and tore a rock from the cave.
A fiery pain erupted into his back. Merlin screamed.
He could not breathe.
Did a falling rock hit him? He did not stop and pulled the rock from the ceiling so that it fell between them and the bear. A small barrier, but enough to give them a chance to outrun the beast.
“Come on!” Arthur was still blind in the dark so Merlin grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards the daylight. Towards the entrance. They ran and ran.
The full light of the outside hit them and they were surrounded by the green forest again, a cacophony of colors. And they kept running.
Merlin fell behind. Every breath was an agony. He saw Arthur disappear over a small hill. He was gone. Oh well.
Merlin felt his knees hit the mossy ground. He was dizzy. And he could not breathe.
Oh well.
The next thing he knew, his cheek was pressed against damp, earthy-smelling moss. Someone was calling his name. Merlin cracked his eyes open and the daylight hurt. His head throbbed. His back, around his left shoulder-blade, burned and raged. Every breath an effort.
He was turned onto his side, the movement jostling the wound in his back. Merlin cried out, wheezing.
He looked up.
His head was in Arthur’s lap. Prince Arthur’s eyes were wide and he was pale.
“I shot you.”
“What?” Merlin rasped.
“There’s an arrow in your back, Merlin. I shot you.”
“Oh.” Merlin closed his eyes.
So that’s why it hurt so much.
“Wake up!”
Arthur’s voice hurts too. But Merlin opens his eyes.
Arthur’s face is closer. “I’m taking you back right now. But not if you’re going to die on the way. I’m not going to the trouble of carrying a corpse all the way back, alright?” Arthur’s voice trembles and there are tears in his eyes.
Merlin nodded a little. “I would carry your body back, you idiot.”
“Yes, well.” Arthur wiped his eyes. “Do unto others as you would, you know, blah blah. Right?”
“I wouldn’t shoot anyone in the back either.” Merlin whispered.
Arthur hiccuped out a laugh. “Would you be willing to tell everyone you shot yourself in the back?”
“Idiot.” Merlin sighed, and closed his eyes.
Mediwhump May - Day 8
"Scared of Blood"
(Dark Shadows 1966)
@mediwhumpmay
Willie knew he’d made a mistake before he’d even slipped. He had been sawing a piece of wood to size to repair the floor. A hand in the wrong spot. The gulf of time between realization and the consequences. He knew he had messed up. But he could do nothing to stop it.
The saw skipped.
White hot pain across Willie’s wrist, burning and tearing.
He froze.
Willie watched the blood bloom in the ragged wound. He let the saw drop to the floor with a clatter. He dimly heard himself panting. He couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t any air. His fingers went to his collar to loosen the buttons there but his hands were shaking too much.
Dark spots danced at the edges of his vision. The room whirled around him.
Blood ran down Willie’s arm from the wound, red and dark. He watched it drip onto the floor.
No, please, no.
It couldn’t happen again. He couldn’t bear it if it happened again.
Willie clamped a hand over the wound. He squeezed his eyes shut. That helped. A little. Not much.
He couldn’t breathe. His heart raced and stuttered. He was dizzy and hot and cold and sweating and oh god-
Those teeth were in him again.
He was alone in the dark. Alone with the monster. He was alone and no one was coming to save him.
Willie scrambled backward across the floor until his back hit the wall. He pulled his knees to his chest. He held his bleeding wrist close to his chest. Covering it. Hiding it.
Yes, hide it. If no one sees, he’s safe. No one can see it.
Warm blood, slick against his skin, coated his hands now.
Don’t look at it. Never look at it.
The wound throbbed and burned.
Willie slumped down to the floor. It was dusty but cool. He was dizzy. He kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t breathe. He was dying, wasn’t he? Dying alone in the dark. Again.
Ringing in his ears. Everything faded away. Faded to darkness.
Mediwhump May - IV/Cannula
(Original characters/story)
@mediwhumpmay
“How-” Tate cleared his throat, his voice rough with a sore throat. “How far is it now?”
Troy craned his neck to look at the IV bag behind Tate’s bed. “Not even close.”
Tate sighed and closed his eyes. “Sorry. You can go. You don’t have to stay until they discharge me.”
“Shut up.”
“I mean it, I-”
“Kid, I’m staying. Sharon knows where I am. Julia’s in bed. I’ve got nowhere to be.”
Tate sighed.
Troy added. “I want to be here.”
“Bull.”
The room was quiet but the rest of the hospital outside was loud with beeps and talking and fast-paced steps, despite the fact it was close to midnight.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Troy asked.
“Is it close to halfway?”
Troy didn’t bother looking, but kept his eyes on Tate. “Not even close.”
Tate grimaced as he swallowed. “I don’t know. Didn’t think I was that sick.”
“Your blood sugar was low. When did you last eat?”
Tate sighed. “What are you? My dad?”
Troy waited.
Tate thought back to the past day. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Just half a bagel. He lowered his eyes to his hands in his lap. “I ate breakfast.”
“Jesus, Tate, what the hell? I can’t work with you if you aren’t taking care of yourself.” Troy stood up and ran his hand through his hair.
Tate touched the spot where the IV entered his arm, wincing. “I had a bad day.”
“All it takes is one bad day!” Troy’s face was red.
“I’ll do better.” Tears started in Tate’s eyes and he wiped them away. He really didn’t want to cry in front of Troy. Not after all this. Fainting and being taken to the hospital was humiliating enough.
“I’ll do better.” He repeated.
“I’m sorry.” Troy crouched down by Tate’s bed. “Hey, kid, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“You can go.” Tate wiped his eyes one more time. “It’s fine.”
Troy nodded. “I know. But I’m gonna stay.”
“It’s fine.” Tate mouthed, finger tracing the tape that held his IV in place.
“Hey.” Troy nudged Tate’s shoulder.
Tate looked up.
Troy nodded at the IV bag. “It’s almost halfway.”
Tate smiled and swallowed hard.
Troy put the back of his hand to Tate’s forehead. “Fever’s down.”
“Thanks, dad.” Tate rolled his eyes.
“I’m not old enough to be your dad, kid.”
“Well, you’re acting like one.”
“Can’t help it.”
“Pizza after this?” Tate asked, unsure of Troy’s response. “Oh, hell yeah, I’m starving.” Troy settled back into the angular hospital chair.
Tate smiled and leaned his head back against the bed. “Awesome.”
“You’re paying though.” Troy grunted.
Tate grinned.
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