#tlotim

(Boris’s point of view)

Bendy was not going to die. 

It didn’t matter that the doctor said he had the Ink Illness. It didn’t matter that the doctor said there wasn’t a cure. If something in a machine was broken, it didn’t matter if someone said it couldn’t be fixed. If at one point it was un-broken, then it could be put back. People weren’t exactly machines, but they were similar. All throughout history, plagues came, and people cried that there weren’t cures to these illnesses. And yet, cures were found.

Boris knew the odds of him, some random kid on an island in the middle of nowhere, finding a cure when thousands of doctors hadn’t, were incredibly low. But the alternative was simply standing by and letting his brother die. He simply refused to accept that course of action. So, all that was left for him to do was to get to work.

Bendy had been discharged the following day. His bite wounds required him to stay on bedrest for a couple days, and he received a prescription to dull the pain the Inkness brought, along with a pamphlet about it. Boris asked the doctor everything he knew about the Inkness, with a fervor akin to a cop interrogating a suspect. He didn’t get much, aside from a reference to certain medical textbooks he could find in the library. 

When they were leaving the hospital, Bendy kept shooting Boris worried glances and telling Boris things would be okay. He didn’t have to tell Boris that. He knew things were going to be okay. They had to be. The alternative was letting things be horrible, and Boris wasn’t going to let that happen.

…

(Bendy’s point of view)

(Six months later)

Things were absolutely horrible.

The Inkness was worse than the doctor said it’d be. He had an episode of throwing up ink at least once a day. After those episodes, he was too weak to work on anything, so he had to close the shop after one. He had to save his energy to work and keep him and Boris afloat, so Boris had to start walking home alone. The medicine he’d been prescribed barely did anything, and he was left clutching his stomach in pain.

People barely came to the shop those days, afraid he’d spread his illness to them. They only showed up if an appliance was on the brink of combusting. At least they overtipped, out of a sense of pity. But they kept a five-foot distance from him, and they stayed to oversee the maintenance, like he could infect their stuff.

But what weighed on him most of all was Boris. He expected him to be devastated, or scared, or enraged, but he was just calm. He didn’t say anything about how his day went; he just silently helped during Bendy’s bad moments. Bendy tried to tell him not to, to keep the ink away from him, but Boris just wore long sleeves and gloves, and Bendy was too weak to force him to stay away.

Bendy didn’t let it show, but he was terrified. He couldn’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t be after being told they were essentially marked for death. He started looking into setting up Boris’s inheritance when he got the call. He was usually in the shop during that time of day, but he just felt awful, and he didn’t think he had the energy to work that day. Bendy picked up the phone. “Stein’s Workshop?”

“Ah, Mr. Stein. Is your schedule clear for this week?” It was Boris’s principal. “Yes? Is Boris alright?” Bendy asked. “That’s what I’d like to know. You keep saying you’re going to talk to him about his behavior, but he’s kept this up for months now. I’ve heard about your situation, and I understand if things are difficult, but you still have a duty to the child under your care.” She scolded. Now Bendy was even more confused.

“Madame, I haven’t spoken to you in six months. What do you mean you’ve been calling me? What’s going on with my brother?” “...Mr. Stein, have you been struggling with your memory? I’ve been calling you every day for the past six months, and you always answer.” The principal explained. Bendy had a sinking feeling about this. “Ok, let’s table this for now. Please just tell me what is happening to my brother.”

…

(Boris’s point of view)

Boris opened the front door. “Bendy! I’m home!” Boris called out. He didn’t hear anything. “Bendy? Are you in the shop?” He yelled in the direction of the garage. Still no response. Now he was worried. He ran upstairs. Did his brother collapse after an episode? Had he been stuck lying on the ground for hours? Did he need to be rushed to the hospital?

His question was answered when he got upstairs and saw his brother sitting in his recliner. He had a serious look on his face, yet there was an undertone of anger on his face. “Oh. Hey Bendy.” Boris greeted hesitantly. “Sit down. I made bacon soup.” Bendy said in a deadly calm tone, pointing to a chair across from him, next to it a table with a bowl of soup on it. Bacon soup was Boris’s favorite food. 

There were four situations in which he made bacon soup; one, Boris did good on a test. Two, Boris needed cheering up. Three, it was Boris’s birthday. And four, the rarest situation of all; Bendy was furious with him and made him soup to soften the blow. And based on how Boris had been spending his days, it was likely it was the fourth. Still, maybe there was a chance it was something else.

Boris sat down in the chair and took his bowl of soup. He noted Bendy didn’t make himself a bowl. He simply sat in the recliner, leaning down and putting two fingers to his sinus. “Your principal called today.” Bendy said calmly while Boris was swallowing a spoonful of soup.

The timing of that caused Boris to gulp the soup in shock. “O-oh, usually you work in the shop when I’m at school though.” “Well, I didn’t feel well and chose to take the day off. So, I answered the phone. Funny thing you mention that I usually work in the shop, because she’s apparently been calling for several months now. And she said I always answered, albeit I ‘sounded different.’ You wanna guess why she’s been calling so often?” Bendy asked, his eyes narrowing. 

Boris gulped and set his bowl down. “Well, I better get started on my homework-” “Boris Daniel Lewek.” Oh dear. Not the full name. Bendy never called him by his full name unless he was full on furious. And the way he said it. When Bendy got mad, he never yelled. He was calm, and he always looked Boris in the eye. Somehow that was worse. “You haven’t attended a full day of school in six months. Where on earth have you been going?” Boris didn’t meet Bendy’s eyes. “Boris. Why haven’t you been in school?”

“It’s not like I’ve been doing anything bad! I’ve just been, you know, going to the library!” Boris defended. “Why can’t you wait to go there after school finishes?” Bendy questions. “They don’t teach what I need to learn at school.” Boris mumbled. “What do you need to learn? What have you been reading?” Bendy asked, the anger in his eyes simmering. “Oh, just some engineering books! And history books! And…medical…textbooks…” Boris led off, purposefully trying to temper the last part. 

“Boris…have you been looking into the Ink Illness?” “...I can help. I know I can, I just need more information.” Bendy fully softened. “I know things are really scary right now, and I’m not mad at you for wanting to help, but I don’t want you to neglect school for me.” Bendy explained. “I don’t see the big deal. You dropped out to take care of me.” Boris countered. “That was a different situation.” “How?!” “1, I was a teenager when that happened. You’re twelve.” “You were thirteen. That’s barely a teenager.” Boris scoffed. “And 2, you have a bright future ahead of you. And I…” Bendy trailed off. “Also have a bright future. If that’s the reason you took care of me, then that’s why I have to take care of you!” “Boris, you heard the doctor. There’s no cure for this thing; I don’t want you wasting your time on this.” “That’s not true! I know it isn’t. Every disease has a cure; I just need to find it.” “You really think a doctor wouldn’t know that? It might take years to find a cure, and it’s probably not going to be done by some little kid.” Bendy spat.

“Well, what’s the alternative?! Standing by while you rot?!” “It’s not the alternative; it's your only option because I’m not letting you waste the best years of your life on some doomed nobody-” “STOP CALLING YOURSELF DOOMED!” Boris screamed, slamming his hands down on the coffee table in front of him. Bendy froze, and Boris immediately recoiled at what he did. He backed away slowly which turned into him running towards the door.

…

(Bendy’s point of view)

“BORIS WAIT!” Bendy yelled, beginning to run after him, but he tripped over Boris’s backpack and fell. “Damn it…” He pulled himself up and ran to the door. By the time he made it outside, Boris was long gone. He shouldn’t have handled it like that. He was upset that Boris was skipping school, but he shouldn’t have shamed the boy for it. Was he wrong to dash his brother’s hopes? Bendy just didn’t want his brother to waste his time.

“FUCK!” He yelled, kicking the door. “FUCK! SHIT! BITCH! BASTARD! FUCK!” He screamed, kicking and punching the door, the months of frustration at his illness and anger at himself for upsetting Boris into running off pouring out all at once. By the time he got it out of his system, he was tired and panting. Bendy looked up and he saw a passerby watching him, looking concerned.

‘Oh dear.’

“H-hello good sir! Hope you’re having a swell day!” Bendy chirped, although anyone could tell he was faking it. He opened the door and once he was inside, fell against the door. “Goddamn it…” He muttered. Maybe Boris needed some time to himself. Maybe he wanted to be alone and not near the lunatic Bendy just acted like. He slumped up the stairs and grabbed one of his jazz records. He set the record on his player and sat on the floor.

~Lovin' I have to have lovin'~

He looked to the side and saw a framed photo of Boris’s mother. “Your son’s a good boy.”

~But when I'm having my lovin'~

Boris had dug for a cure, because he loved Bendy. Even neglecting his studies and his future for the chance he could find a way to help Bendy. And Bendy pushed him to the point of running out.

~I have to have~

“Some brother I turned out to be, huh?”

…

(Boris Lewek’s point of view)

Boris had run into a church. There weren’t many people there which was good for Boris. He didn’t want to talk to any people at the moment. Well, there was someone. The research he’d done about the Inkness said that it might be tied to demons. And if it was true, then the church was the last card Boris had to play.

Boris wasn’t raised religious. Bendy always said if he wanted to go to church, he would let him, but Bendy never went to church himself. He said it made him feel weird, and he got stared at anyway. Boris didn’t like leaving Bendy, so he didn’t go to church either. But Boris was desperate. All of the research Boris had done said that there had been no progress working on a scientific cure, and as much as Boris hated depending on something he couldn’t see, this was all he had left.

He clasped his hands in prayer. “I know I haven’t been here in a while, and I haven’t prayed either. I guess I’m bad at being a Christian. But I need help. My brother is a good person. He took care of me when I had no one, and I need to pay him back. I don’t know if you saw the fight we had, but I didn’t mean to scare him. I love him.” “You made this illness, right? I won’t pretend I understand why you do the things you do, but the world loses a lot if my brother dies. And so many people have gotten hurt because of the Inkness. Please. I don’t know what people have done to deserve this, but I think we’ve suffered enough. Please, just let us have a cure. Let my brother live.” Boris begged, whimpering a little. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting. But he’d made his appeal. All that was left was to hope he’d be heard and apologize to his brother.

…

Boris was walking out of the church and looking at the ground when he heard a honking sound. He looked up to see a grey feathered goose looking at him. “Uh…hello?” Boris hesitantly greeted. The goose honked. Boris tried to go around it, but the goose kept blocking his way. “I don’t have any food. Can you let me go?” Boris asked, starting to get nervous. The goose honked again, this time backing up and jumping on Boris.

“AAH! AHH!” Boris yelped, swatting at the goose trying to get it away. He felt the goose pull on the handkerchief tied around his neck, loosening the knot. The goose only got off when the knot came loose and the handkerchief was secure in its beak. It quickly waddled into the nearby woods with its prize, but Boris wasn’t letting it get away that easily. 

“Hey! That’s mine, give it back!” …

It took a good hour for Boris to find his damn handkerchief. By the time he found it, it was left on its own on the forest floor. “What was even the point of taking it if the goose was just gonna leave it behind?” Boris asked himself. “Whatever.” He didn’t care. He was just glad he had it back. He was tying it back around his neck when he felt a chill go down his spine. 

“Is someone there?” He asked, hearing his voice echo in the woods around him. He felt like he was being watched. Maybe someone was out hunting or foraging. Or maybe it was the goose. No. If it was a wild animal, Boris doubted he’d feel this odd. Whatever was watching him, it was sentient.

“You’re a very perceptive boy.”

Boris’s eyes widened. He couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from. It sounded like a girl’s voice. “And smarter than most give you credit for. That will be useful.” “Who’s there?” Boris asked. 

“Who else? You asked for a helping hand. Is it a shock someone answered? Especially with such despair littering your words.” 

He gasped. There was no way. This didn’t happen to people like him. Why him, out of so many prayers? It was impossible.

“Although you were probably asking for a name. Where are my manners?”

Boris looked around for the source of the voice. He felt a finger tap him on the shoulder from behind him. He looked behind quickly and was astounded by what he saw. If you weren’t looking up, she’d seem like a normal young woman. But if you looked up, you would see a golden halo

“Alice Angel, nice to meet you.” She greeted, holding a hand out to the boy.

############################################

Alice Angel is now available for questions.

First

(Bendy’s point of view)

It was eight at night by the time Bendy made it to Mrs. Campbell’s home. She could have offered to pick him up, considering he repaired her husband’s car that exact day, but no, he thought bitterly. He had to walk there late at night when there was something dangerous on the loose. He knocked on the door, and Mrs. Campbell came. He explained that he didn’t plan on coming in, but he was going to hide out in the backyard, so the thing didn’t see him coming. He only knocked to let her know he’d be there. She didn’t have any objections, only asking him not to make too much noise.

Bendy walked to the backyard. It was abysmal, to say the least. There were marks in the ground, digging into the dirt. There was a little playground for her kids, but it was turned over. The carefully taken care of grass had seen better days, strands pulled up and hunks of dirt exposed. Thankfully, the rose bushes were left alone. Those bushes were Mrs. Campbell’s pride and joy; she’d throw a hissy fit if they were torn up. It probably avoided them because of the thorns. Bendy stationed himself behind a corner of the house to wait for the thing to show up.

…

He’d been waiting for two hours. Bendy started to wonder if this thing knew he was there when he heard a branch break. He turned his head to see what made the noise and felt a shiver go down his spine. It wasn’t a person or an animal. It was as huge as the playground, and it was entirely black. It had claws and was on all fours. And its eyes… It had no pupils, and they were white. It walked up to Mrs. Campbell’s sliding door and started scratching and bumping its head on the glass. 

Bendy used its preoccupation with the door to sneak up behind the creature, brought out his lead pipe, and hit it over the head. However, instead of knocking the thing out, the thing’s head melted around where the pipe was, and its eyes…dear god its eyes moved from its face to the back of its head to face Bendy. Bendy gulped as the thing roared at him and started swinging. Bendy tried to take the pipe with him, but the pipe was stuck in its head. Unfortunately, Bendy got swung right off and flung right into Mrs. Campbell’s fence.

“This is not the reason I thought I’d need an extra lead pipe.” Bendy mumbled to himself, pulling out said pipe. “Hey ugly! This is private property! So, either fuck off and don’t come back, or I’ll knock your ass out and throw it in the ocean!” Bendy barked. The creature didn’t respond, only parking its claws into the ground. 

The creature launched itself at Bendy, using its momentum. Bendy raised his pipe to try and block the thing’s attack. Unfortunately, the creature managed to use the pipe as a stepping stool to get on top of Bendy. 

Bendy felt the creature’s horrible teeth sink into his skin. He didn’t even realize the thing had teeth until he felt it bite into his shoulder. He felt something horrible and gooey leak out from the creature’s teeth into the bite. He felt the creature rip off the flesh from his shoulder and heard the thing swallow his skin. It felt like he was a pumpkin, and someone was carving his flesh in a bastardized attempt to make a jack o’ lantern.

Bendy couldn’t stop the scream leaking from his throat. He didn’t even know he could scream that loud. Immediately he saw a dozen lights turn on in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t even pay attention to them; he had to focus on pushing the creature off. Then he grabbed the pipe and went in for another swing. 

Unfortunately, it seemed like it had caught on to his attacks and dodged. Bendy’s attempt at an attack seemed to enrage it, and it swiped at him with its claws. Thankfully, Bendy dove before it could puncture his skin.

The creature was smarter than it seemed though, it grabbed Bendy when he dove and threw him at the fence. Bendy heard something crack and it became hard to breathe. He used the fence to help him stand up. He took his pipe and tried to swing at it, but it merely swerved. Bendy heard the sliding door open and Mrs. Campbell shrieked. “Bendy! What on Earth-” “Mrs…Campbell…get…help.” Bendy tried his damndest to tell her, but words seemed difficult at the moment. Thankfully it wasn’t that hard to determine what Bendy wanted in that situation, and she ran inside. 

The creature tried to go towards the sliding door, seeming to remember its original goal, but Bendy grabbed at its goopy leg. That just made it mad, and some sort of tail protruded from its skin, wrapped itself around Bendy, and slammed him into the ground. It then used its claws to pin him to the ground and take a bite out of Bendy’s side.

If he thought the shoulder bite was bad, then this was agony. He felt the full force of the creature’s teeth into his torso. As the damn thing rose, it tore out a chunk of his skin, and he heard the disgusting sound of it swallowing a part of his body. Once again, he felt something viscous leak from the creature’s teeth and enter his open wound. It felt like someone was pouring something acidic directly into his bloodstream. Once again, a shriek let itself out of his mouth, his throat still aching from the last scream.

*CRACK!*

It sounded like thunder. For a moment, Bendy thought that something up in the heavens heard his screams and took pity and smote the creature.  For once the creature shrieked, and it was a horrible sound that made Bendy’s ears ache. It was the sweetest sound Bendy had heard tonight. The creature released Bendy and ran into the woods. Bendy heard the sound of footsteps approaching him.

“Shit, what the hell was that- Stay with us son!” Bendy heard someone tell him. Now that the creature was gone, whatever energy he had to cling and try to fight the creature was dissipating, and he was drifting. He vaguely thought the person sounded like Mr. Cohen. He thought he saw another figure in his field of vision.

“It’s…away…Campbell…not…safe.” He mumbled, trying to warn them not to let the creature get away, that it was Mrs. Campbell it was after. He couldn’t tell if he was understood, but he saw one of them point to the other, and the other figure left. He hoped they had it covered. He wanted to try and get back up to help, but he was in too much pain. The last thing he heard was someone yelling his name.

“BENDY! BENDY! BENDY!”

…

(Boris’s point of view)

“Bendy…”

Boris was starting to worry. He understood that this wasn’t a usual job, but Bendy promised he’d be home before eleven.

It was one in the morning now.

Boris started to pace back and forth. He was supposed to be in bed by ten, but he didn’t want to go to sleep without knowing Bendy was home. Something felt off. He didn’t know how, but Boris knew deep down in his gut that something was wrong.

*BAM! BAM! BAM!*

Boris shook. The sound was coming from the front door.

He’s trying to break the door down. He knows I’m in here, he knows what I did, has he gotten to Mama-

He wrapped his arms around himself. ‘Stop it. That’s over.’ But that didn’t change the fact that someone was at the front door. Bendy told him he wasn’t supposed to open the front door when he was home alone, and the pounding made him want to stay far away from the door. But the words that came from the door gave him pause.

“Open up! Police!”

Oh god. They knew what he did. They knew what Bendy did. They were going to separate them, they were going to get rid of him like they got rid of-

Boris took a deep breath. Spiraling into the past wasn’t going to solve the current problem of the cops trying to bust down the door. If he went over peacefully and acted like nothing happened, maybe they could fix this without losing anything.

So, with the slowness of someone trying to keep calm yet the speed that the urgency of the situation called for, he walked over to the door and opened it. Two police officers were at the door. “Sweet Jesus, this kid’s tall.” One of them blurted out, noticeably shorter than Boris. The other police officer, noticeably older than the short one, elbowed him in the gut. “OOMPH- The hell was that for?!” The short officer groaned. “Jesus Jim! Have some decorum!” The older officer scolded.

“Um, good evening, sirs. Or good morning? Can I help you two?” Boris asked, trying his best to keep his voice polite and steady. “Right. Boris Lewek? We have some…unfortunate news. It’s about your brother.” The shorter officer said, his voice laced with…pity? “Earlier tonight, your brother was in an accident, and I’m afraid he’s in the hospital.” Boris stopped hearing anything after that. He could feel his heart shaking in his chest.

Everything seemed to blur after that. He remembered running as fast as he could. He couldn’t think of anything else besides Bendy. He heard the officers shouting after him.

He hadn’t prayed since Bendy took him in. But at that moment, he was begging anyone that would listen to let his brother be ok.

…

(Bendy’s point of view) 

The sounds of beeping were what brought him back from the depths. It was a slow rising from unconsciousness, waking up. He felt dull and slow, yet he kept waking up regardless. He slowly opened his eyes, and he saw a man in a doctor’s coat looking over a clipboard. He looked distressed, although when he noticed Bendy was staring at him, he put on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey! There’s the little man.” Bendy grimaced. He hated being called ‘little man.’ “Where…am I?” Bendy asked. “You’re in the hospital, Mr. Stein. Mrs. Campbell and Mr. Cohen both called 911 and alerted us to your immediate need for medical attention.” The memory of what happened flowed back to his head. His hand went to his neck where that creature had bitten him. Then he realized what was more important. 

“Good sir! There was an unknown creature harassing Mrs. Campbell!” Bendy told the doctor. “Oh! You don’t have to worry about that. Thanks to your efforts, the police were able to cage the creature.” The doctor soothed him. Bendy let out a sigh of relief. “Good sir, can you please tell me what on Earth that creature was?” The doctor looked uneasy at that question. “About that. Young man, I have some unfortunate news.” The doctor was about to tell the news, but the two of them heard a large amount of approaching footsteps.

The door was abruptly slammed open. In the doorway was none other than his little brother, looking tired and sweaty. “Ben…Bendy.” He looked terrified. Bendy didn’t know what to say but simply held out his arms. His brother collapsed into them and started sniffling. “They…they said you were in an accident… I was afraid you were dead…” Bendy rubbed circles on his back. Then, two police officers came barging in, looking even more tired and sweaty than Boris.

“Jesus Christ kid…we woulda given you a ride…” An older officer panted. “How does a kid run that damn fast…oh my god my lungs… I haven’t run that hard since the academy.” The shorter officer groaned. “Wait. If you were gonna give him a ride, why didn’t you take the car?” Bendy asked. Apparently that possibility didn’t occur to them, and they moaned in agony as they realized they were idiots. And the groaning only increased when Boris pointed out they were going to have to go back to get their car.

“Officers! I believe I told you that you couldn’t come in this room!” A young nurse came storming in. “Oh, is that all you did, Janet? Lightly scolded them? You have one job.” The doctor deadpanned. “My job is to assist the patients, Doctor.” The nurse (Janet, apparently).

“And keeping non-family members from barging in is part of assisting them, Janet. You’re incapable of just doing your unsaid responsibility, I always have to spell everything out for you!” The doctor snapped.

“This is why we can’t work together, in this hospital or out of it! You are incapable of communicating with me properly!” Janet snapped back. “You want to get into this right now?! Do you have any idea what I have to tell this young man and his little brother?! Do you JANET?!” He screeched.

The room went silent at that. Boris clung to Bendy tighter. The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Everyone who isn't family of my patient, get out.” The doctor declared. The officers, looking incredibly uncomfortable, walked out slowly, accompanied by Nurse Janet, who was glaring at the doctor, and shut the door behind them. Bendy asked clearly, yet with fear, what was wrong with him.

The doctor looked like he would have preferred to take what he knew to the grave, but he knew his duty as a doctor. So, with sympathy in his voice, he told Bendy and Boris something that would define the next years of their lives.

“Bendy Stein, I am so sorry to tell you this, but I’m afraid you have the Ink Illness.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence in the room. The fear that breaking it would make the doctor’s statement true. But Bendy could keep his mouth shut. “What?” He whimpered, like he was a little kid. “That creature that bit you, it was an ink monster. It’s a mutation that can occur during stage five of the Ink Illness. At that point, the infected person’s leaked ink can infect someone if it enters their body. And when that creature bit you…” he trailed off, the unsaid obvious.

“S-so, you’re saying that my brother is gonna become some sort of monster?!” Boris yelped, horrified. “Oh, dear, of course not! Well, maybe…that mutation is incredibly rare, so it’s not impossible but incredibly rare. It’s more likely your brother will die normally.” The doctor said in a voice that would have been comforting if not for the content.

Then the doctor’s eyes widened. “I realize that isn’t much better, huh.” “Doc, this thing entered my blood. Is there really nothing you could do to get it out?” Bendy offered, but his hope was dwindling. “I’m so sorry, son, but countless other medical professionals have tried to do what you’re suggesting. Attempting to remove the ink has resulted in people nearly dying from the loss of blood, and even then, once the ink is in your system, it simply regenerates itself.” The doctor explained.

“There has to be something you can do to help my brother!” Boris begged. The doctor looked so saddened. “I’m sorry boys, but smarter and more skilled practitioners than me have been trying to find a cure for the Inkness for thirteen years. The closest we have come up with is a medicine that will dull the pain the illness brings. I can prescribe it to you and release you to live what time you have left, but I must advise you to prepare your will and testament. I’m so sorry.” The doctor told them solemnly.

Bendy was feeling a nightmare mixture of emotions. He was going to die. He was going to die slowly and leave Boris on his own in this world. Because of Bendy’s own stupidity, Boris was going to be left on his own. Bendy grasped Boris’s hand to try and comfort him. He looked up but to his surprise, he didn’t see sorrow, fear, or even anger in his little brother’s eyes.

But determination.

############################################

First

Previous

(Your point of view)

You didn't plan to have to walk this far. Which, in hindsight, was rather stupid of you. When the bus driver dropped you off, he said the tour office wouldn't open until the morning. When you checked out of the inn, the owners told you the tour bus didn’t head out that early in the morning and that you should probably wait a couple more hours before heading out.

But you didn’t come all this way for the tour.

You looked ahead on the website. The tour only goes a quarter of the way on the mountain, before taking a rest and going back down. Going up the mountain was a process that took multiple hours, and unfortunately, the remaining three-quarters wasn’t mass group friendly. It was doable if you were one person, but it is still not recommended.

Which is why you chose to head out so early. It hopefully gave you enough time to ascend high enough that anyone couldn’t see you or call the authorities. You made this plan three months ago, when this trip first began.

But the research you did neglected to mention that even the closest town to the mountain took a two-hour trip. And that was by bus. On top of that, you had to wake up before the sun, leading to your power run intended to reduce the distance to become a tired stumble.

But, despite the ache in your feet and eyes, you make it to your destination. A mountain, jagged and dark grey and brown. The grass patches at the bottom are wilting. You can see the parts of the mountain used by tour groups. You can’t see the top of the mountain. A patch of clouds swirl around it, given the impression they’re protecting what lies at the top.

They call it World’s End. In some scriptures, they say it’s where Moses received the Ten Commandments. In others, they say it’s where Abraham was about to sacrifice Isaac. A common story you heard when you were young is that the mountain was originally the Tower of Babel, a monument to mortal desperation and hubris. As punishment for such an act, God turned the tower turned to stone. Although everyone you have told that tale agrees it’s false. Regardless of interpretations and retellings of thousand-year-old stories, there is one thing all the stories have in common.

This is the closest your species has ever come to the heavens above. You were taught to revere it, for on the top, there was a legend of a temple that held the greatest invention mortals have ever made. A machine that healed the plague so horrible that no angel in the sky could save mortals from it.

The Ink Machine.

The illness this machine was designed to cure doesn’t hold the same fear it used to. Everyone is vaccinated for it when they’re born. Vaccines were mass produced and considered required for hospitals to carry.

You climb the mountain as you think. You grip each rock intensely. The machine is a thousand years old, maybe a couple hundred and a thousand? Information on it is difficult to find. Which doesn’t seem right to you. The Inkness devastated both humans and beasts, and the vaccine wouldn’t even exist without the aid of the machine.

Some say the machine came as a direct gift from God. Salvation as an answer to the despair and sorrow from the families who lost their loved ones to the disease. The answer recognized and taught in schools is that the machine came from a mortal’s hand. However, everyone accepts the story of how the machine returned.

Five heroes set out on a quest to repair the machine. The story changes, depending on who tells it, but that basic premise always stays the same. Some say they were aided by an angel. Some say two of the heroes were servants of the Lightbringer. The most shunned say one hero was a demon. But there’s something about the story that has always bothered you.

No one has ever been able to tell you who these heroes were, what lives they lived, and why they sought to fix the machine in the first place. Ever since you were small, you were taught to thank and praise these heroes for their glory and brilliance. You were told how clever they were, how strong they were, and how their kindness saved the Earth. But no one ever actually says who they were as people. They were heroes, but were they anything outside of that? They had to be. It disturbed you how little was actually known about these heroes.

This disturbed feeling never left you, no matter how you tried to ignore it or focus on other things. It led you to be an outcast, someone who was far too attached to a dead fable than you ought to be. You tried to research any information on the story, but you just found various interpretations of what you already knew. Ballads, plays, and tributes to these heroes and their deeds, but nothing that could tell you who these people were.

So started this little odyssey of yours. You saved up what money you had and took various boats and buses to World’s End, the home of the Ink Machine. You’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for here. But you didn’t know where else to go. All you have is a hope that there’s something on this mountain, a secret of the machine that could silence this discontent in your soul.

“AUGH!!” A scream lets itself loose from your throat. You weren’t focused. As you were climbing, there was a sharp piece of the mountain that instead of grabbing, you accidentally stabbed yourself on it. The rock pierced through your hand, the jaggedness feeling like a knife being twisted into a stab wound. Despite it, you persevere through the pain and pull your hand off, letting loose a few choice words that would cause your grandmother to threaten to wash your mouth out.

Thankfully, you’ve reached a relatively flat part, allowing yourself to rest and deal with your wound. “Shit, shit, shit.” You take your backpack off and dig through it. You grab a gauze pad and a roll of bandages. You apply the pad on your wound and wrap bandages around it. You press your hand down on your stabbed hand to apply pressure. You might have to set up camp for the night.

A growling in the sky catches your attention. You look up, and you see the clouds slowly growing greyer and covering up a darkening sky, the sounds of wind and the beginnings of thunder letting you know a storm is about to begin. You lost track of time while you were climbing. You look towards the remaining part of the mountain.

You’re not sure if you can climb with your injury. But your tent isn’t waterproof, and you don’t see anything you could hide in from the storm. On top of that, climbing back down would take several hours and would be even more dangerous in the storm.

So, almost in spite of your better judgment, you tighten the strings of your windbreaker and begin to start climbing again.

…

The storm started faster than you expected. You can feel the rain beating on your windbreaker. The sounds remind you of someone banging frantically on a door, trying to get inside. It does nothing to soothe your nerves. You’ve almost made it to the cloud layer. Your research said there’s a temple at the top. On top of seeing the machine, you can stay there until the storm passes.

You grab at another piece of the mountain, but you slip. The rain’s making the rock slippery. You remember wall climbing when you were younger. The wall was wet. Apparently, they were cleaning it, but they didn’t dry it well enough. Your foot slipped, and you fell off. But it was ok. Your dad was there to catch you.

He’s not here to catch you now.

You should have gotten a waterproof tent. Something secure, that you could have pitched on that flat part and stuck it out until the storm was over. Or you should have checked the forecast. Your phone didn’t have any signal out here, but there were other ways to check the weather.

You remember hearing people say their lives flash before their eyes. All you can see is the flashes of thunder in the sky. You wonder what they'll say after you're gone. Is there anyone who'd even speak for you? You didn't have any friends, and Grandma wasn't long for this world herself.

Then you wonder if they'll even find your body. The tour groups don't go up this high. Would anyone else climb the mountain? What would come of her body by then?

You wonder if there really is an afterlife. You ask yourself where you're going to go.

Your eyes shut.

…

You feel surprisingly comfortable for falling on a mountain. Your back feels soft, and you feel something heavy yet comfortable on top of you.

You open your eyes. You're in a bed, and there's a heavy blanket on top of you. Have the last few months been a dream? Did you never leave home?

No. You remember your hand being stabbed. A dream wouldn't have hurt that much. You look at the hand in question and…wait a moment.

The hole left in your hand is gone, replaced with only a scar to show it was ever damaged to begin with. How long had you been here? How long had you been asleep? You don't remember how long it takes for a stab wound to heal. On top of that, how did you get here in the first place. You were falling, and you didn't have any rope or anything like that.

By all accounts, you should be dead. Unless you're already dead? This doesn't seem like the afterlives you were taught. You pull the cover off and get to your feet.

…

You walk out of the room you woke up in. The walls and floors are made of marble. The ceiling's held up by marble columns. The floors are cracked, showing signs of age. There's vines growing across the walls.

Is this the temple the Ink Machine was held in? You expected more. Setting that aside, you still didn't know how you got here. Did someone bring you here?

That question received a possible answer when you walk into the main room.

You see a large pit surrounded by a ceramic wall to keep the ash from getting on the floor. Within it, you see an orange and yellow fire, its dances bringing light to the large and empty room.

You see a person attending to the flames. They're wearing a long black dress, the fabric draping on the floor. The sleeves go down to their hands, and their long cascading black hair blends into their dress. The only break from the black colors being the tip of something white on their head you can't quite see all the way.

You look around and see another hall across from you. Not wanting to catch the attention of the person in black, you carefully sneak your way over to the next hall. You think they can't tell you're there when they say

“You won't find it here.”

You turn to face them. They aren't looking at you, but they continue. “They moved the machine quite a while ago. To a museum, I believe.”

You clear your throat. “I, uh, I know. I went to see it.” You cautiously step towards them, maintaining distance. “Then why come here?” They ask. “How do you know I came to see the machine?” You ask in turn.

“No one remembers the original name of this temple. It's ironic. All anyone remembers this place for is that machine, and they took it away. Now there's nothing here.” They answer cryptically.

“If that's the case, then why are you here?” “Why do people return to their childhood homes? Maybe they want to tell themselves that things have changed. Maybe they have. Or maybe they've changed, but they're not ready to admit it.”

You grimace for a moment. “Are you like. Can you only talk in riddles.” You ask bluntly. That gets a giggle out of them. You might find the sound sweet if you weren't annoyed. Then they let out a sigh. “Nostalgia. An attachment to the past was always my weakness. And something has to fill these halls. Which reminds me…”

They turn to face you. The white tips are horns, almost circular and pointy at the top. Those, along with their black pie cut eyes, give the impression they're a beast. They're wearing black lipstick, contrasting with their pale white face, and there's a golden chain necklace on their neck. Now that they're facing you, you realize they're taller than you. Much taller.

“Who exactly is in these halls besides me?” They ask. You get the impression they're asking your name. You remember your grandmother warning against giving those with horns your name. Superstitions like that were frowned upon, but the fact that you didn't know this person, how you got in the temple, or what happened to your hand, was enough to heed your grandma's warning.

“Nobody.” You declare simply. Instead of the annoyance or frustration you expected, the person in black smiled, as if it was funny to them. “Very well. I guess if Nobody is here, I'll just wonder out loud why someone would climb the world's tallest mountain, knowing there's nothing waiting at the top.” They wondered, exaggerating their thinking and leaning on your head.

You groaned. “Oh my! This is a very creaky stool. Good thing Nobody's here to have to hear it.” You half wonder if whatever they could do with your name would be worse than this. You push their arm off.

“…I've looked everywhere for information about the legend of the Ink Machine. The five heroes who brought it back. Everyone knows what they did, but no one knows who they actually were. And it bothers me, and I don't know why. So I came here, hoping there'd be something that would satisfy me.” You explain.

You leave out your remark about how, instead, you found what looks like an incredibly annoying nun.

The person looks surprised for the first time since you arrived before holding a finger to their cheek. “I admit the common understanding of their legend is a bit…lacking. People want figures that they can look up to, and looking for the uglier parts can be disheartening.”

“The uglier parts?” “Oh, you know. Their fears, their mistakes…” They list off. “…the things they hated about themselves.” They add on quietly. That makes your eyebrow raise.

“You say it like you knew them.” You remark. She doesn't deny it.

“Yes, yes. It's a shame really. It's an interesting story. Too bad Nobody's here to hear it-” “Oh. My god. Can you just shut it for like. Three seconds.” You deadpan.

“If I tell you my actual name, will you tell me what you obviously know, and shut up about the stupid Nobody thing?” You offer.

The person considers it for a moment. “One name in exchange for two actions? That doesn't seem entirely fair, Nobody.” They smirk. You roll your eyes. At this point, you're more annoyed than intimidated.

“Fine. What do you want aside from my name and my soul.” You question, not allowing your soul to be an option. Their response is quick; a cackling laughter. “Oh Nobody, I was teasing! Your terms are acceptable.”

You grimace again, but the laughter allows you to gaze in their mouth. Their teeth are sharp. You've never met a hooved beast with sharp teeth. You feel a shiver go down your spine. The figure holds out their hand and makes a 'hand it over' gesture. You get the impression they mean for you to introduce yourself properly. "You'll get my name after I get the information." You say bluntly,

The figure rolls their eyes, sits down next to the fire, and gestures for you to do the same. It'll allow you to warm up, at least. You do as they ask, and they begin.

“Once upon a time, there were two brothers that loved each other very much…”

“Their names were Bendy and Boris.”

################################

The Climber and the Figure in Black are now available for questions.