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Cicada Nights
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And she'd been born with a demon in her heart, that poor little girl torn from the teat of her beloved village, try as she did to spill innocent and girlish tears she was ultimately naught but a howling animal like any other finding themselves cornered. Perhaps she was the very evil she'd feared, she realized with almost amusement percolating among the ashen dregs of the watery fear sluicing from the crevasses of her brain. Here in her last moments she had only such thoughts to comfort her, for the remainder were rather violent reminders of the gun pointed her way.

A monotone monologue numbed Rachael's front lobe. She panicked still, but almost in a manner she wasn't aware of. Her thoughts were buried in nameless graves, undead constructs churning the earth as they ominously rumbled for freedom.

How had she ended up here, forehead digging a rut into the stale soil?

sorrysorry sorry sorry sorry

Rachael trembled, entirely rocking on her knees until she almost violently lurched forward and cut her head open and dashed her brains out onto the fence before her. Her head continued to ring like the hollow toning of funeral bells, her vision was mostly a headache and a wobble. People were closer now, and they said things, and she looked their way through eye whites stained a bloody red, her head weakly hanging from her own neck at a chopping block angle. A shallow breeze would have likely toppled her into the fence or maybe blown her ragdoll corpse off the cliffside.

... they're talking to me.

She was frightened without knowing why.

As always.

"I-...I-ah... I'm fuh-fine." She timidly searched the faces looking her way or otherwise, her eyes half averted as she did so. She didn't recognize one face. Her stomach tied itself into a gallows knot. She recognized the other face. And her stomach was a pulsating sack of meat thrown into a blender.


Now she knew why she was frightened. She made weak squeaking noises like a mouse being trampled, tried to claw her way to a standing position with her palms pressed into the fence rings until the hurt was pattern accurate to each twist and turn of metal. She needed to go, she needed to run, Adonis was not the person she wanted to see now or ever but maybe that was because she never wanted to see anyone ever again because this island would be nothing but screaming and bloodied flesh and there was no escape and nowhere she could hide

and she faltered, her knees were suddenly consumed by an earthquake and she buckled, only weakly able to keep herself up by wildly and desperately tightening the grip of her hands. She began to babble, repeating the only coherent bits of English language left in her head.

"A-ah-I'm fine, I'm fine, fine, fine, don't worry..."

She gagged, a heavy and wet cough.
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Sad Tunes · The Cliffs (DANGER ZONE)
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