Success comes in all Flavours

Success comes in all Flavours

Status: In Progress

Genre: Horror

Houses:

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Horror

Houses:

Summary

THE FOLLOWING WORK TO BE POSTED WILL CONTAIN GRAPHIC, VIOLENT SCENES AND STRONG LANGUAGE.

VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED!!!
Share :
Twitter

Summary

THE FOLLOWING WORK TO BE POSTED WILL CONTAIN GRAPHIC, VIOLENT SCENES AND STRONG LANGUAGE.

VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED!!!

Chapter1 (v.1) - From Pallid to Perfection

Author Chapter Note

Collab with the Puppet Master , Kossettes Novellettes (Falling)

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 29, 2017

Reads: 184

Comments: 9

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 29, 2017

A A A

A A A

 

My palms are sweaty, my skin crawling with hunger. I want to pick one, take one for me, but none of them shine with any magnificence. My poor blank mannequins, my beautiful blank canvasses. I want to make you beautiful; I want to make you into something worthy of my love and praise. I feel my throat close up. But you should know, not all of you qualify for my love.

I stroll through the park, my eyes searching for that one canvas, that one mannequin that needed me more desperately. I look at you all with a kind affection, my heart bleeding as I gaze upon your unfinished faces and bodies. That's when the one I've been looking for blooms in front of me. I feel my heart racing. I feel my love shine as I gaze upon your beautiful blankness. Yes, you need my love, you deserve my love.

I close my eyes, my mind preparing to meet you. I let a few stray tears tumble down my cheek. I gently wipe them away, making sure you notice my beautiful play. Your white eyes take in my slumped and broken form. You stop, your mind wondering if you could possible approach a beauty such as myself. I let my honey colored eyes flutter to your face, a small, inviting smile playing with my lips.

You walk over to me, my stomach filling with butterflies. Yes, I can see how I can fix you, make you better. You stop in front of me, your facelessness reaching out to me.

"Afternoon Miss, do you require assistance."
"I do Sir. It seems I've sprained my ankle. My car is only around the corner. Could you possible help me over there?"
"I can take you to the hospital."
"Thank you, but I'll be fine. It's not broken, just twisted."

You nod your head, offering your pale white arm. I feel my anger rise. I take a deep breath, clearing my mind at the insult. This is why I must save you my beautiful mannequin. You can't just reach out to a masterpiece like myself. But I shall forgive you this once. I slide my hand onto your unworthy arm, schooling my face into an angelic smile.

"You're so kind Sir. May I know your name, please."
"Claude, Mam."
"Well, thank you, Claude. My name is Bethany."

You nod once. Such appalling manners. I take another cleansing breath, forcing my mind to remember our true objective. We must save this one, turn it into a beautiful work of art, but first, we have to suffer through these moments. We round the corner, your face still impassive and empty. Don't worry my precious. I will help you.

I point to an old blue van. Even though it was old, it was in perfect condition. I couldn't risk my mannequins getting hurt or destroyed. You lead me to the front, helping me to find my keys. 

"Claude, would you be a dear and just start the van for me?"

I see your blank frown, my heart aching to complete you. You move forward, my bidding impossible to ignore. You slide into position, your fingers hovering over the keys. I smile, I encourage, I patiently wait. You look back at me with that blank stare, suddenly dropping forward. I clap my hands, so proud of you.

***

"YOU'RE A CRAZY FUCKING WHORE! FUCK YOU!"

I tap my finger on my chin, my feet tapping along in unison. You should not be speaking like that, but I know it's because of your imperfections. I stroke your pale cheek. Why are you pulling away? Such an ill-mannered mannequin.

"STOP TOUCHING ME YOU CRAZY CUNT!"

No, no, I can't complete you if you keep talking like that. I reach into my bag, pulling out a silver, black glue-gun. You have to remain silent as I work; otherwise, I could end up making a mistake. Why are you pulling away like this? Don't you know I'm here to make you beautiful? Turn you into a masterpiece?

"W-what the f-fuck is that thing. Hey, talk to me! HEY, H.... mmmm, mmmm."

What a glorious sound you make, such a sweet melody. I never liked music, but your humming soothes me somehow. I can see you rose red lips now, see this is why you needed to come with me. How wonderful, how beautiful you'll be. It's time we start my blank one, let me proceed to turn you into a paragon of my collection.

You have gone so silent. Why do you not hum for me anymore? I frown but leave it be. Children sometimes have tantrums they say. I bend and take my carving tools from my bag, placing them on a little silver tray with wheels. You whimper and moan, your lovely tune filling me ones again with happiness.

I pick up my carving knife. First, we have to smooth and carve away the imperfections. I place it on the silver tray. Oh, wait, before I start I have to make sure you don't move. You silly thing's you always move when I'm busy with you. So excited that I return you to your true form, but I've lost many of my creations, because of this. 

I place my foot on a small white pad, pressing down a few times. I watch you raise, you body standing up fully. You're such an ugly paleness, your body needs to be painted. I walk into my storeroom, bringing with me a long aluminum pole. I press down on the white pad again, setting changed to open your legs. I place the pole beneath you anal opening, making sure to lock it into place at the bottom.

I press the pad, the table launching forward in one smooth motion. I watch the pole disappear into your body. What a lovely melody you still sing for me. Don't worry, I will not make a mistake on you. Why are you trying to dance my silly mannequin? You have to stop moving. Otherwise, I can't work on you.

You finally cease your wild dancing, your body slumping against the table. Poor thing, you got so excited that you wore yourself out. I wipe a wet cloth over your face, those pieces on your face just doesn't bring out your beauty, even if it was beautifully colorful. You're such a fast learner, laying silent and still as I begin my work.

I pick up my carving knife, cutting into that pale flesh. I fold the pieces back, taking my glue-gun and gluing it open. There it is, your true self. I feel so happy, even a little excited as I continue to crave the pieces open. I place my carving knife down, switching it for my Gouge. It had a curve at the top that allowed me to carve out hollows and make sweeping curves.

I glue another piece down. I take my wet cloth, wiping away at the impurities. Why did you all leak so much? Both your legs are done, the awful white color replaced by a gorgeous crimson. Your muscles are so well refined and look even better with the silver screws and nails implanted there. You see my mannequin, you're turning into something unforgettable.

I walk back to my store room, a big bottle of cleaning liquid firmly in my grasp. Seems you were so excited you urinated everywhere, I can even see fesses laying there. My silly naughty mannequin, but don't fret, I shall cleanse you and my floor. I scrub away making sure not to leave a trace or blemish behind.

"Now I have to work on your torso my pet. Please, be silent and still for just a moment longer. After this, I shall resculpt your face and give you a new, better one." 

I wash your torso, wiping away the stains. Your body jolts. I gently pat you. There, there my mannequin, no need to worry. I pick up my carving knife again, slicing through your outer layer. We need to peel this white away, bring out your color. What a strange gurgling sound you make. Is that part of your melody? I pull the white skin back, your true self yet again blooming like a flower.

"There you are."

I feel a smile forming, my heart soaring as I study your inner working. Oh, dear, we'll have to remove the solid parts. I need to give you something else for in there. I pick up my Chisel and Mallet. I place the Chisel over you breast bone, hammering into the toughness with ease. I slide my Chisel beneath the opening, delicately lifting the outer plastic. I peel it back, your heart thumping sluggishly. 

I replace my Chisel and Mallet back on the silver tray, taking my biggest Spoon-Gouge. I dip it into the impurities of your body, sliding the spoon down the side and scooping it out. Your body begins its wild dance again, flopping up and down in exuberance.

"Now, now. That's enough celebrating. There'll be plenty of time after I'm done."

You push up ones more, slumping down against the table. You do another gurgle hum before you go silent. I wipe your face affectionately. Such a well-mannered mannequin. I make sure to scoop out all the junk, you torso wonderfully hollow and ready for reconstruction. I place my Spoon-Gouge on the silver tray, swapping it from my glue-gun. I fold the pieces back, making sure it sticks to the outside. 

I walk back to my store room, bringing back a few trinkets I felt would make you stand out more. I study your hollow, looking through my collection. Ah, yes, this one will do nicely. I turn back to you, my hands holding a tree branch, with a little bird perching on top. The bird is inside a small cage. I take my glue-gun and squirt some glue to the spots I want the branch to stick too. I press a tiny button, hidden beneath its feather, on the back of the bird, a sweet chirping spilling from its beak.

"Don't you think it's just perfect?"

I make sure the bird and all its pieces are secured, squirting some extra glue on the points. 

"Now for your pallid face."

I take my Carving Knife, sliding it down the middle. I peel away the paleness, relishing the beauty hidden beneath. You're motionless. How very sweet of you. I would be so angry if I made a mistake on your face. The skin is glued to the outer shell, hiding that pale ugliness. I take a smaller carving knife and begin to decorate the skin on the side. I delicately carve symbols into you, each one having a different meaning. You're eyes stare out, no doubt gazing upon my beauty. 

"We're almost done."

I take a step back, my eye searching, looking. Ah, yes, seems we have to change the color of your eyes. I have just the thing. I rush into my store room. I come out, holding a bottle of silver.

"This is a fantastic color and just what I think you need."

I step up to you, gently spraying silver onto your eyes. I spray into the symbols on your upturned skin, to make it stand out more. Mmm, there's still something missing.

"Oh, wait, I know."

I take two pieces of thin steel pipes. I place them on the silver tray. I get my Gouge, digging a hole into the bottom of your left arm. I grab my glue-gun. I put my tools back, picking up the thin steel pipe. I slide it into the opening beneath your arm, making sure I glue it to your side. There, that's much better. I repeat the process on your right side, lifting it just a little higher. There, it's almost like you're dancing.

I take a step back, gazing lovingly at you. Yes, now you're beautiful. Now you're the true self that was hidden beneath all that white. I take the spray can of silver, spraying the outer edges where your skin was bent and glued down. Oh, yes, this is it.

"Finally you deserve your name. Claude was your mannequin's name. But I shall rename you, it's only fitting."

I stare into your eyes, waiting for your name to whisper to me.

"Captor. Yes. You know why? It's because you captured my heart and you're holding my love captive in your hollow. Yes, it's perfect."

I step on the white pad again, turning the table to face right. I point to a class case at the end of the room, one of many others filled with resculpted mannequins.

"That case is just for you, my Captor. You will guard and watch over me and capture all those who dare to look my way."

I step on the white pad, listening as wheels and cogs twist and turn. The table extends up, wheels popping out beneath it. I unclip the table and begin to roll you to your case.


© Copyright 2017 Miss Midnight. All rights reserved.

Chapters

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

Booksie Spring 2017 Flash Fiction Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Miss Midnight

Popular Tags