Spoon
05-12-2011, 12:40 PM
Hoffman wept.
He was seated at his desk, alone in the darkness of his office. Then he was not alone, he could feel it. Hoffman could feel the sickening madness near him, could almost taste the hatred and morbid curiosity in the air.
In the corner opposite him a form stirred. Seeming to create itself from shadow it took on a vaguely humanoid form. It lurched forward once, close enough to Hoffman for him to be able to see, no closer.
In between sobs Hoffman spoke, "Why have you come back?" more crying "Why must you torture me! Why, Coppelius?" he broke into sobs again, his tears mixing with the ever present clanking of tiny machines around himself.
The creature said nothing, only staring. Resting nearby but unresponsive. Hoffmans' brain spun, he had done everything correctly, he had messed up nothing. The plan had gone with perfect precision; the organs harvested, the rooms left covered in blood, the scratches on the walls, everything. Oh lord, did it know of the eyes? He had instructed his machines to put them at the last place as a horrible clue for whom investigated, he hoped against all hope it did not know.
Coppelius stirred, coming closer so it could be fully seen, its head and back hunched, the tentacles of its mouth moving rapidly in a complicated knot over one another. A voice sounded in Hoffmans head, a deep voice, full of hate.
"T̸̮h̴̤̟͚̫ou͍̩̫̮̯̪ ͓h̴̻̦̰̺̜̰̲a̛̺̮̗̜s̜̻̥̺̦̗͞t͏̣ ̞̣̤̖d̙͠o͖̕n̶̲̙̝̤e͜ ̼̞̩w͏̘͖̭e̬̥̯l̫̰̟͈̘͙̫͞l̵̫̠̮̬̰͚ ͍̻ͅh̪͡e̸̟͍̖̖ ̘͍̤̰͘o҉̰̞̥͎͚̱f̠ ̡͖̩͚̪t͠h̪̺̰̤̪e ̬̝̙̻͔̬͕͡m͙̮a͓͠ch̻̲̥̦i̗̲̮͇n̦̭͖͉͕͖̖e̟͇̻͠s̹͕.̫̖͖͉ ̳̝̖̀R̷̤̬̣͉̘es̖̖̬̀t͢ ̢͖n҉̻̮̱̪̤o̳t͍̱ ̰͢ǫ̺̦̞͍̗͕͔n̬̭ ͖t̴̩͈̼h҉̟͚̣̪͉̥ͅe̛͖ ̨̟̤̗̰͉l̞͍͔͝a̮͍̘̫u͎͍͚͕̩̮̥r̴͉̯̟͚̪e̹l͈̤͓̩̤̤s̺̥̝̖̱ ̶̹̙ơ̱̜̰̗̗f͏̹͉̖ ̣̬̣͈͕y̥o̲u̶̫̗̫r̠̫̥̲̺͉͎ ͓̜s̪͇̗̩̺̖ṳ̧̹̪ͅc̗͉͚̪c͖̳̬̙e̞̖ͅs̹̠̥̲̪̣̳s̜̤̟̘̗̘̤,̝̭̪̤̪ ̰͎ ̮̼̬̘̬̦̩f̛̪o̡r̼̹̯̥ ͜ͅt͈̠h̩͚̻̘̤̩e̟͈̫̙ ̧̹̦͎̯c̪̞̙̗̘͔͔r͙͙̺̺̬̙͔e͘a̱͇̭͇̘̼͞t̴̰u͚ṛ̙̞́e̹̺ ̪̗̮̮͢ṃ̛̜̻͎̝o̵͚͖̝s͙̹̲͕̕t͍͍̗ ̢f̥̳̺̲͚̭o̤̼̮͇̗u̙̹̗̱͝l̟̻̹̟̜̥̥ ̹͈̜̘̹̞̹m͈͔͕u̞͓̬̱̬͈͖s͎̜̗͞ṭ̺ ̩̥͓̻̠̱̻ḅ͔̣̮͙̟̲́e̟ ̦̞͙̭̯̕sa̮̩̭t͙̞̰e̹̜̫̖͘d͙̮.͕̰͠ ̩̺͍ͅH҉̣̳̭̟̺̬̹e̞̮ ̞̬͝r̻̲̖e̮̦͕̹̤s̹̠̪͓t̯̪̟̙̲s̫̲̰̦̩͕̘ ̗͙so̬̮ ̬t͍͈̱̩̜̹̝́h̹y̙͍͕͚ṋ͙͕̭̯ ͎l̨͙̭a̗b̧̖̮̙͇͈͖̭o̸͇r͚̫͓ ̮̞͖̜̝̺͘ͅis̬̜t̳ d̹̰͠o͎n͈͖̥͉̣e̫͓ t͓͖̺̻̫͚̖o̸̺ us̙͈,̸̠̩ ̵̼̹̻̮̦f̹̞̠̭̞͟o̮͍ͅṟ̻͍̹ ̮̯̟̲̬̝̝͟n͖o͙͕͜w̷̞̳̝̗͙.̻̱͞ͅ
With that it was gone. Leaving Hoffman to a once again empty room. His cries intensified, he cried out "Please forgive me! I had no choice." he quieted down, sniffling "the Killjoy must be sated."
With that he lay his head down on his desk, misery accompanying him into sleep.
The investigation was eventually deemed a failure by the Guild. Perdita and Lady Justice were unable to ever find the creature committing the atrocities. The deaths stopped though so the Guild for the most part considered itself lucky, resigned to the fact that the Neverborn are mysterious and omnipresent. Security has cracked down in the Guild, never the less the Neverborn are a constant threat, one we may never understand.
End.
He was seated at his desk, alone in the darkness of his office. Then he was not alone, he could feel it. Hoffman could feel the sickening madness near him, could almost taste the hatred and morbid curiosity in the air.
In the corner opposite him a form stirred. Seeming to create itself from shadow it took on a vaguely humanoid form. It lurched forward once, close enough to Hoffman for him to be able to see, no closer.
In between sobs Hoffman spoke, "Why have you come back?" more crying "Why must you torture me! Why, Coppelius?" he broke into sobs again, his tears mixing with the ever present clanking of tiny machines around himself.
The creature said nothing, only staring. Resting nearby but unresponsive. Hoffmans' brain spun, he had done everything correctly, he had messed up nothing. The plan had gone with perfect precision; the organs harvested, the rooms left covered in blood, the scratches on the walls, everything. Oh lord, did it know of the eyes? He had instructed his machines to put them at the last place as a horrible clue for whom investigated, he hoped against all hope it did not know.
Coppelius stirred, coming closer so it could be fully seen, its head and back hunched, the tentacles of its mouth moving rapidly in a complicated knot over one another. A voice sounded in Hoffmans head, a deep voice, full of hate.
"T̸̮h̴̤̟͚̫ou͍̩̫̮̯̪ ͓h̴̻̦̰̺̜̰̲a̛̺̮̗̜s̜̻̥̺̦̗͞t͏̣ ̞̣̤̖d̙͠o͖̕n̶̲̙̝̤e͜ ̼̞̩w͏̘͖̭e̬̥̯l̫̰̟͈̘͙̫͞l̵̫̠̮̬̰͚ ͍̻ͅh̪͡e̸̟͍̖̖ ̘͍̤̰͘o҉̰̞̥͎͚̱f̠ ̡͖̩͚̪t͠h̪̺̰̤̪e ̬̝̙̻͔̬͕͡m͙̮a͓͠ch̻̲̥̦i̗̲̮͇n̦̭͖͉͕͖̖e̟͇̻͠s̹͕.̫̖͖͉ ̳̝̖̀R̷̤̬̣͉̘es̖̖̬̀t͢ ̢͖n҉̻̮̱̪̤o̳t͍̱ ̰͢ǫ̺̦̞͍̗͕͔n̬̭ ͖t̴̩͈̼h҉̟͚̣̪͉̥ͅe̛͖ ̨̟̤̗̰͉l̞͍͔͝a̮͍̘̫u͎͍͚͕̩̮̥r̴͉̯̟͚̪e̹l͈̤͓̩̤̤s̺̥̝̖̱ ̶̹̙ơ̱̜̰̗̗f͏̹͉̖ ̣̬̣͈͕y̥o̲u̶̫̗̫r̠̫̥̲̺͉͎ ͓̜s̪͇̗̩̺̖ṳ̧̹̪ͅc̗͉͚̪c͖̳̬̙e̞̖ͅs̹̠̥̲̪̣̳s̜̤̟̘̗̘̤,̝̭̪̤̪ ̰͎ ̮̼̬̘̬̦̩f̛̪o̡r̼̹̯̥ ͜ͅt͈̠h̩͚̻̘̤̩e̟͈̫̙ ̧̹̦͎̯c̪̞̙̗̘͔͔r͙͙̺̺̬̙͔e͘a̱͇̭͇̘̼͞t̴̰u͚ṛ̙̞́e̹̺ ̪̗̮̮͢ṃ̛̜̻͎̝o̵͚͖̝s͙̹̲͕̕t͍͍̗ ̢f̥̳̺̲͚̭o̤̼̮͇̗u̙̹̗̱͝l̟̻̹̟̜̥̥ ̹͈̜̘̹̞̹m͈͔͕u̞͓̬̱̬͈͖s͎̜̗͞ṭ̺ ̩̥͓̻̠̱̻ḅ͔̣̮͙̟̲́e̟ ̦̞͙̭̯̕sa̮̩̭t͙̞̰e̹̜̫̖͘d͙̮.͕̰͠ ̩̺͍ͅH҉̣̳̭̟̺̬̹e̞̮ ̞̬͝r̻̲̖e̮̦͕̹̤s̹̠̪͓t̯̪̟̙̲s̫̲̰̦̩͕̘ ̗͙so̬̮ ̬t͍͈̱̩̜̹̝́h̹y̙͍͕͚ṋ͙͕̭̯ ͎l̨͙̭a̗b̧̖̮̙͇͈͖̭o̸͇r͚̫͓ ̮̞͖̜̝̺͘ͅis̬̜t̳ d̹̰͠o͎n͈͖̥͉̣e̫͓ t͓͖̺̻̫͚̖o̸̺ us̙͈,̸̠̩ ̵̼̹̻̮̦f̹̞̠̭̞͟o̮͍ͅṟ̻͍̹ ̮̯̟̲̬̝̝͟n͖o͙͕͜w̷̞̳̝̗͙.̻̱͞ͅ
With that it was gone. Leaving Hoffman to a once again empty room. His cries intensified, he cried out "Please forgive me! I had no choice." he quieted down, sniffling "the Killjoy must be sated."
With that he lay his head down on his desk, misery accompanying him into sleep.
The investigation was eventually deemed a failure by the Guild. Perdita and Lady Justice were unable to ever find the creature committing the atrocities. The deaths stopped though so the Guild for the most part considered itself lucky, resigned to the fact that the Neverborn are mysterious and omnipresent. Security has cracked down in the Guild, never the less the Neverborn are a constant threat, one we may never understand.
End.