Tevun-Krus #34 - GothPunk

The Immortality Machine - A Short Story by @krazydiamond

"Rise, little Miss. There is plenty of time to feel sorry for yourself later." Despite her over cheerful tone, there is a worried frown marking her brow. Something is distracting her, bothering her.

"What is it?"

She looks startled I notice but shakes her head after a moment. "Lizzy's been missing since yester eve."

The omission is a small one but we both wonder. Between the burial of mother and my odd behavior around her on that day, a rumor was bound to circulate eventually. It was safe to assume a few servants would leave once my fate was discovered. Despite this, I was saddened to learn Lizzy was one of them.

"Get yourself cleaned up miss," said Tansy. "You're to see your father today."

**

Papa looks more a corpse than mother did before we put her in the ground. His skin has a pale translucent quality, both clinging and hanging off his bones. When was the last time he saw the sun? When was the last time he ate or bathed? The scent of stale sweat clings to him as he moves around, never looking me in the eye.

He's babbling about the machine, the technical talk flowing together into a single muddy stream of noise. I vaguely comprehend he is a step closer to finding success but I do not understand what he mean by 'deletion of incorporeal mass' or 'manipulation of degenerative tissues'.

What I notice is the blood.

A lot of it, splattered across the back wall in an upward arc, like ink blown through a straw.

"What happened there?" I interrupt him mid sentence, my eyes glued to the drying spray. It's glistening like morning dew.

The week mother took a turn for the worse, she sat in the parlor, enjoying tea with a few of her more adventurous lady friends when she coughed. The epitome of manners, my mother didn't cover her whole mouth with her hand in a typical delicate gesture. This was to her determent as blood flowed from her mouth in an explosive fount, spewing around her cupped hand in rivulets that slashed the floor and seated ladies in great red stripes.

Suffice it to say, it was the last time her 'friends' came to call.

I remember comforting mother as she reeled from the episode, her face white in shock. The blood dripped from the wall in those alluring dew drop patterns, glittering like liquid rubies. Beautiful and horrifying.

"A test gone wrong dear, nothing more," said Father. I don't know what it was. The curiously flat tone, the uncharacteristically blase attitude he suddenly had, but I knew in the moment, my father was lying. For a moment I swore I saw the specter of mother hovering behind him, her face full of anger and sorrow. The conflicting emotions made me uneasy. I wanted nothing more than to be gone from his presence and his damnable machine when the words slipped from my mouth.

"Have you seen Lizzy?"

It was a flicker nothing more, possibly a trick of the light, but I could have sworn my father's eyes darted to the blood painting his wall. "No, has she gone missing?" He didn't wait for me to respond before he was steering me out of the room. "I have a great deal of data to go over love. I'm sure she will turn up. Let us have dinner soon."

The laboratory door slammed shut behind me, leaving me muddled with unease.

**

Lizzy was not the last to disappear.

Over the next few weeks, several other servants disappeared, including my father's man Nicolas.

After the third went missing, the circumstances seemed more and more suspicious. A few servants left brusque and obvious in the light of day but the few who remained scurried through the halls of our home in twos and threes. I was afraid to let Tansy out of my sight, convincing her to stay in my room at night. This was a strangely beneficial arrangement as my Consumption appeared to progress much faster than mother's. Tansy felt safer in my room at night and I needed her help to rise from bed sooner than I anticipated. Perhaps my body was weaker than mother's, my soul not as strong, but the flu like ache I first felt soon grew to burning embers beneath my skin.