ultra-violet rays, pooling around the contours of his Ink, drying and cracking like Ink of old, crusty until a chance wave washed up over his body before receding, baptizing him, cleaning him of everything. Washing it all away, leaving him alone.
Always alone.
Each day was the same.
He left the penthouse, wandered the streets as if looking for something, but mostly he couldn't recall what it was, sometimes finding it strange that he didn't even care that he couldn't remember. He somehow found himself at the marina, the boat still moored — he remembered the boat, that it was his — and then he lay on the beach until the day cooled. Then he went back to the scene of the crimes inflicted on him, never sure what they were, Ink merging into blood, normally as far as his thoughts went.
He did it all in a daze, a mindless man that became less and less Whole as the days blurred past — neither fast or slow, time without meaning. Maybe he was succumbing to The Lethargy? Or just fading out of existence as there was nothing left for him now — it was all gone. Alone again, nothing more than a body for others to experiment on, test out whatever warped way they had managed to manipulate Ink through knowledge gained by being Awoken to the secrets they had discovered, a twisting of what should be a form of enlightenment to their own deranged beliefs.
Nothing made sense and Edsel didn't care any longer; he was empty; emotions drained from him like a halal kill — all that remained was Ink, nothing more.
Edsel watched through closed eyes as tiny motes danced in his vision, a redness that took away memories and emotions. He opened his eyes, turning his head away from the sun, exposing a burned neck, just like the rest of his body.
Suddenly, the sun was lost behind cloud and Edsel turned lethargically only to find that the shadow was that of a man: Michael.
I know him.
"I must say, I'm somewhat disappointed in you Edsel. I thought you had more spirit than this. Lazing about like you don't have a care in the world. What a waste. Don't you want some answers? To know about the new skin you find yourself wearing? Your family? Me?"
"Go away."
"Oh dear, feeling a little sorry for ourself are we? I don't know why, just look at you, you're beautiful."
Edsel climbed to his feet, blistered skin from the sun ignored, and turned in a circle, showing his body, hidden only by a pair of shorts so generously left for him by Michael. "Look at me. You call this beautiful?"
"Of course," said Michael, frowning at Edsel's inability to see it. "You're unique, much more interesting this way. I've been following your progress for some time you know? I was hoping that we would meet one day."
Edsel's burning body went cold. "What do you mean you've been following my progress? Just who the hell are you?"
I'm back. What have I been doing?
Michael turned and walked up the narrow beach, carrying his shoes in his hands, trousers rolled up like he fancied a quick paddle but had thought better of it. He sat on the wall that separated the sand from the paving and put on his shoes before turning his trousers back down. He stood, looked inland before facing back towards Edsel. "You coming or not? We have a lot to talk about you know?"
Edsel trudged up the beach like a dog on a long leash, which he suspected was exactly what he was now.
~~~
Edsel knew that he had to understand what was happening if he was to ever see Lash and Aiden again. If he killed Michael now then they would be lost to him forever, he was sure of it. So he sat in a metal chair outside an empty restaurant, arms resting on the small circular table that would never see a drink placed down on it again.
Michael talked, and kept on talking and talking as the sun went down and the cool evening air carried with it a promise of another beautiful day to follow.
He's completely insane, no doubt about it. But clever, very clever.
Michael's story was about as warped as anything he'd ever
Always alone.
Each day was the same.
He left the penthouse, wandered the streets as if looking for something, but mostly he couldn't recall what it was, sometimes finding it strange that he didn't even care that he couldn't remember. He somehow found himself at the marina, the boat still moored — he remembered the boat, that it was his — and then he lay on the beach until the day cooled. Then he went back to the scene of the crimes inflicted on him, never sure what they were, Ink merging into blood, normally as far as his thoughts went.
He did it all in a daze, a mindless man that became less and less Whole as the days blurred past — neither fast or slow, time without meaning. Maybe he was succumbing to The Lethargy? Or just fading out of existence as there was nothing left for him now — it was all gone. Alone again, nothing more than a body for others to experiment on, test out whatever warped way they had managed to manipulate Ink through knowledge gained by being Awoken to the secrets they had discovered, a twisting of what should be a form of enlightenment to their own deranged beliefs.
Nothing made sense and Edsel didn't care any longer; he was empty; emotions drained from him like a halal kill — all that remained was Ink, nothing more.
Edsel watched through closed eyes as tiny motes danced in his vision, a redness that took away memories and emotions. He opened his eyes, turning his head away from the sun, exposing a burned neck, just like the rest of his body.
Suddenly, the sun was lost behind cloud and Edsel turned lethargically only to find that the shadow was that of a man: Michael.
I know him.
"I must say, I'm somewhat disappointed in you Edsel. I thought you had more spirit than this. Lazing about like you don't have a care in the world. What a waste. Don't you want some answers? To know about the new skin you find yourself wearing? Your family? Me?"
"Go away."
"Oh dear, feeling a little sorry for ourself are we? I don't know why, just look at you, you're beautiful."
Edsel climbed to his feet, blistered skin from the sun ignored, and turned in a circle, showing his body, hidden only by a pair of shorts so generously left for him by Michael. "Look at me. You call this beautiful?"
"Of course," said Michael, frowning at Edsel's inability to see it. "You're unique, much more interesting this way. I've been following your progress for some time you know? I was hoping that we would meet one day."
Edsel's burning body went cold. "What do you mean you've been following my progress? Just who the hell are you?"
I'm back. What have I been doing?
Michael turned and walked up the narrow beach, carrying his shoes in his hands, trousers rolled up like he fancied a quick paddle but had thought better of it. He sat on the wall that separated the sand from the paving and put on his shoes before turning his trousers back down. He stood, looked inland before facing back towards Edsel. "You coming or not? We have a lot to talk about you know?"
Edsel trudged up the beach like a dog on a long leash, which he suspected was exactly what he was now.
~~~
Edsel knew that he had to understand what was happening if he was to ever see Lash and Aiden again. If he killed Michael now then they would be lost to him forever, he was sure of it. So he sat in a metal chair outside an empty restaurant, arms resting on the small circular table that would never see a drink placed down on it again.
Michael talked, and kept on talking and talking as the sun went down and the cool evening air carried with it a promise of another beautiful day to follow.
He's completely insane, no doubt about it. But clever, very clever.
Michael's story was about as warped as anything he'd ever
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