[WIP]Isolation Of The Human Mind

The Walker

Jemma stirred back in her bed, plummeting into an unnaturally deep sleep. She had heard many sayings, warning of the dangers of sleeping. Unbeknownst to her, she was shunted to the back of her brain, a prisoner in her own head.

Pale blue water lapped at her feet, washing away the fine grains of sand.

The sheets rustled, sliding of the bed as it stepped onto the cold, stainless floor. Soo many years had passed since it had felt anything but sand underfoot. Each step was executed with trepidation of what my happen. Breath condenses on the window, and a careful hand traced the words: "Playtime". A childish giggle escape its lips, like this was the most hilarious endeavour. The solid oaken door opened up across the room, squeaking loudly.

A chilling wind whipped up around her, ruffling the pristine, organised towels.

The giggles from his patients room sent shivers up his spine. It was an inhuman squeal of delight. He'd heard too many of these in his life. He sighed loudly, realising he would have to leave the warm, leathery chair. Turning swiftly, the ends of his tailcoat splay outwards, knocking a variety of clutter off of his desk. Various clicks emanated from his back as he lent down, picking up a name plate reading "Dr Edward". Still feeling the same sense of urgency, he strides to the solid oaken door, twisting the tarnished brass door-knob. He cringed, knowing the squeaking would only provoke his patient.
Inside, he saw Jemma poised unnaturally, with the weight all on one leg. Her shoulders were hunched forwards, hair draped loosely over her eyes.

From the thicket behind her, a hazy figure emagered. A long, moth ridden tailcoat trailed behind him, like a puppets strings. A thin haze of flys surrounds it, distorting the outline. A strong smell of putrid decay and death followed it -very literally- like a bad smell. Wrinkles covered a long, withered hand, grasping towards her.

"What's this? A literal plaything?"

If the giggle wasn't so childish, it might've passed for flirtatious. But this giggle was the one of an unstable child. He'd heard that one one to many times.

She pulled the shard of stone from her waist loop, holding it ready in one hand.

Suddenly, the figured appeared infront of her.  She was choking. Falling.  Flailing. Beside her, a sharp, long, grey shell found its way into her hands.

'Jemma' dashed across the room towards him. He tried to jump back, but she grab him with one hand.  Unnatural strength pinned him to the wall with just a left hand. 

She felt empowered by this shell. She raised to her feet. A hand clutched at her, radiating malice.  She did not falter.  The shell made a squelch as it impaled itself in the creatures flesh.  Twice.  Three times. Five times. Ten times. Twenty times. She kept going until the sun came back again.

He gasped as the stone raked his ribs, tearing through his clothes.  Pain clouded his mind.

Curious. It didn't like her stone. It was meant to be a gift. How dare he. She winced at the noises his bones made as they cracked and split.  Maybe she could pit the stone in him?  She pushed it through his heart. James fell limp in her arms.
"Oh dear" she said. "I think I've broken him". She carried him over to the chair where Fitz usually sat and propped him up. He didn't look very happy. "smile" she said, carving one into his face.  Her hands were covered in this...blood? It looks like ink. She carefully stepped around him, and began to write on the walls.