August 19, 2012
By cyanidealpaca BRONZE, Irvine, California
cyanidealpaca BRONZE, Irvine, California
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”
- Nietzche

Milford Baxter carefully laid down the picnic blanket with his pallid fingers, dry grass crackling gently under the pressure.

“You do look quite dapper today, Lillian. That red dress does look absolutely charming on you.” Revealing rotten teeth, his lips pulled back to do a gross imitation of a smile.

The orange-haired doll merely grinned back, her button eyes blank.

“Here, have some syrup, it’s simply delightful! Oh, how I love syrup.” Milford scooped the sweet treacle out of a stained jar. The viscid liquid dripped down the spoon and onto Lillian’s dress.

Still the inky eyes of the doll stared ahead into Milford’s eyes. Spoon pausing midair, Milford asked worriedly, “What’s wrong, my dear? Did you not like the food I’ve provided?”

His questioning was pointless, for it received no response from the cloth doll. The gaze of the doll bore into Milford’s black irises, triggering a displeased reaction from him.

In a fluid motion, the emancipated man unfolded his crisscrossed legs and leapt over to the doll while his hands wrapped around her neck with a surprising strength.

The stygian pools that were once his eyes blazed with a fury matched only by the creatures that basked in hell.

“ANSWER ME THIS INSTANT, YOU NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY GIRL.” Milford raised his right hand as if to slap her, but a black tentacle appearing from nowhere snatched it back and broke his wrist with a loud crack. Echoing loudly, his shriek was devastating as his left hand quickly grasped his right arm to alleviate the pain.

“What- what is this?” Whipping his head around, the green fields of the park were replaced with shadowy tentacles that reared up like wild stallions and charged towards Milford.

“What have you done to me, Lillian?” The rage was wiped away by a desperate plea in Milford’s inane eyes as the tentacles ate away at him.

“Mommy! What’s that man doing?” The small child tugged on his mother’s red dress, pointing.

The mother smoothed her flaming orange hair, glancing at the man who was in a contorted position on the ground. Red streaks trailed down his face and neck, while his hands battled futilely against invisible enemies.

“It’s nothing, son. C’mon, let’s go now.” She clasped the curious boy’s hand and led him away.

The author's comments:
I was watching Salad Fingers and this just popped up in my mind. Mind you, this was written late night so it's not top-notch quality, but please do enjoy.

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