Do With Me What You Will - Story
It doesn’t start with anything big.
It never does. I mean, sure, some things start big, but not this. Not anything like this. You think, you sit there and think, “Sure.”
Right?
Started with my vacuum shutting off.
I was having company over to The Cave - what I call my room, as it has no windows - and I was trying to get little bits of playground off the floor that I had dragged in from my previous night out. The vacuum, not only was it operating below power, but the light on the front wouldn’t come on. Bitch, because I had to unplug my lamp to get it to work.
There was a spark in the blackness, near the power outlet, and the vacuum just shut off. Just plain died in my arms. An appliance passing away to that great electric beyond. It had a good run. I eulogized in my head as I fumbled in the dark, trying to plug my lamp back in.
Oh, great Oreck, I hardly knew ye. Only weighing eight pounds, but could lift a bowling ball… if it ever goddamn felt like it.
The lamp wasn’t operating at full capacity when I plugged it in, so I thought it might be a problem with that particular outlet. I turned to my tiny flat screen TV, which sat complacently on my wardrobe, and looked back at the light. Short of anything else to plug in, I moved the short expanse across the room to the television, and unplugged it.
See, I think now, maybe the vacuum was in on it. It only makes sense.
The door to my room stayed propped open by a small trash can. The slant of my house led the door to shut naturally if left unattended. There was a surprising amount of heft to the door. After one of my many fights with my siblings or parents, I could slam it shut and shake the homestead.
But the TV, the TV, I moved it across the room, to my bed. I unplugged the lamp - fumbled in the dark - and plugged the TV in.
It powered up.
A soft hum.
Across the ripples of the black screen, like skin on pudding, wrinkles began to form. I felt a firm knot in my stomach as the spread back and forth, before settling down.
I moved across the bed, leaving the TV on its back, staring at the ceiling - of course, that is insanity, as televisions do not stare, do they, of course not - but I sat, and watched, to see if the ripples would come again, to see if they would intrude upon my world.
After minutes of observation, I blamed the lack of natural light, the quality of the television, and moved back next to it. But boxed inside the four corners was no longer a screen, but a pair of small, eclectic eyes, bouncing back and forth, drinking the scenery for what it could see. The pupils were dark black, the corneas a fine green. They moved in the constraints of invisible eye sockets, about half way from the bottom.
Soon, they fell on me.
It lacked a mouth, and could not speak. It tried desperately, rocking back and forth on the bed, ruffling my comforter - and my comfort! - until I could hardly stand it. I moved towards the door, as quickly as I could, but the trashcan had moved from its place. The door quickly shut with as much fury as I could normally muster in any given fight. I tried the handle, which was warm to the touch, but it was no good. Invisible hands were holding it shut tight.
I turned back to the television. It had somehow righted itself on the bed, and it glared at me, oily brow furrowed. The soft light given off by its - its face, bathed the floor of the room in a green glow, almost palpable. The small chips from the floor were now gone. The carpet felt almost alive under my feet as I moved compulsively to the bed. I quickly fell to my knees, staring the television in the eyes, unable to control my movements.
My hand reached out, and turned the television on. With the screen aglow brighter, the mouth came in to focus. Of course it could not speak to me, its lips drawn together with infected twine, sealing the skin ever shut, puffy and oozing black life.
I could not break my gaze, as much as I wanted, my eyes fell constantly on its countenance, its skin becoming more real, black, amorphous arms emerging from its back.
All hail, all hail.
Do not speak to me! I cried. DO not speak this madness!
But it did not listen.
All hail, all hail!
No! Stop!
The tendrils reached out across the expanse of my ever growing room. I was moving away through thick air from the monstrosity, but the tentacles grew and followed, moving with me backwards through the void. I could feel no ground beneath my feet, beneath my knees. I cried out silently to leave, to leave me alone, but it would not. The arms seemed to taunt through the darkness, beckoning me with each movement, whipping towards my face at impossible speed only to slow close to skin and move away.
I did not want this, and yet, I did want this. Everything it was promising.
All hail, all hail.
Intoxicating. The feeling in my stomach. The stars above, flying past me with incredible speed, the tentacles ever growing, expanding out until they were the only thing beneath me as I catapulted. The leathery, pock marked skin of the face as the lips pursed, so large that I could fall between the strings into its gaping maw.
The promise to tear me apart forever. To make me reborn only to remove me again, and again. The only promise of eternal death awaits with resistance.
Stare into the face and see what I have seen.
I accept. I relinquish.
Do with me what you will.
When I promised to be a vessel, I was returned to my room, the puffy mouth, infected stitching awaiting me. The eyes, which again poured over me, but I sat, unblinking.
Take my hand.
Hail.
These words, directly in my mind. And what of them. What of them to you, what of them to me. I find myself most mad these days.
I of course placed the television back on its altar, on my wardrobe.
It had begged of only one thing, the soft cry of an infant below.
I would return, I promised. For if I lied, it would know, and it would never let me leave. The door to the room - surely not my room, now, as my room did not have any of the properties witnessed, rather, the room belonging now to IT to that THING on my dresser to the DARK ONE - and stepped out.
Even then, I could feel it on my back, a heavy weight that I must shoulder.
There is no escape.
This is what insanity feels like.
Do with me… do with me what you will.
