Chapter - 25
"What the fuck..." Lucius's voice ca out barely louder than a whisper.
The room slled awful... It was like the stench of rotting flesh filled his nose and burned his throat. He instinctively covered his mouth with his hand.
But it wasn't just the sll that twisted his stomach.
It was what was in front of him.
Now matter how calm he had been all this ti, his fingers were trembling slightly.
The room was dimly lit, just one dying bulb that was hanging above which cast long shadows across the walls.
But the bulb wasn't the only thing hanging from the ceiling. Sothing else. No... many things. Dozens. Maybe more.
Iron chains hanging from the ceiling rattled softly. He took a slow and unsteady step forward. He squinted trying to see through the half dark room, trying to make out what it was.
Then, he finally made it out. And his face frowned in confusion.
Puppets?
Dozens of them puppets? Why were they hanging from the ceiling? They were arranged around the room like so grueso display.
At first sight, they looked like regular dolls. Dolls with lifeless limbs and tilted heads hanging with iron chains. But sohow there was sothing... wrong. It looked just so real.
And as Lucius's eyes adjusted, the frown on his face turned into a shock.
Their skin was too real, pale and wrinkled. It was just too real. Thick, black stitches ran across their arms and legs which held the patches of flesh together. It was like a fucking Frankenstein experint.
'These aren't fucking dolls,'
'These were humans. Dead human corpses.'
So of them had arms stitched from mismatched pieces... One smooth and pale while the other dark and scarred.
On their faces so had hollow sockets where eyes should have been. While the others had real eyes. Real human eyes which were still glossy, staring at Lucius like they were alive.
One puppet in the corner had a twisted grin carved into its face, lips split open and stitched upward, like it was smiling at him. There was still a trail of dry blood oozing from the corners of its mouth.
Lucius took a step forward but just as he did, he felt sothing sticky below his shoes. When he looked down, it was blood. Fresh blood.
Drip! Drip! Drip!
A very faint sound echoed in the silence of the room. A fresh puppet hung in front of him, its skin barely dry. The fingertips of the fresh corpse were pulled out, its eyes gouged out.
But the brutality did not end there.
On a table at the centre of the room lay a human body. It was a man.
The skin of that man was peeled off exposing raw, red muscle beneath. His stomach was cut open, and his intestines were out in the open.
"Hehehe..." A sudden, chilling laugh slithered through the silence, scaring Lucius.
The driver stood there, grinning with the hamr still gripped tightly in his calloused hands. His face was sared with his own blood.
"Welco to my art gallery," the driver rasped, stepping forward. His voice was beaming with pleasure, "Do you like it?"
"You are so eager it seems. Saved the trouble of carrying you here," The driver smiled, "You are such a sweetheart, boy."
"Do you think I am like them?" Lucius snarled, looking at the old man with disdain, "I don't care what you do here, but I am not going to end up hanging here."
The driver tilted his head, his grin stretching wider, showing his white teeth, "You need to care. This is MY PASSION," he whispered as his finger trailed along the grotesque puppet hanging next to him. He felt their stitches with an unsettling tenderness.
"You see, I always loved making puppets. But people laughed at my work and called a freak. They never understood," His grip around the hamr tightened, "Not even my stupid parents."
"How could they not? They were supposed to. They were my parents."
"But they did not."
"Instead, they called mad. That I was the weird child they never wanted," The older driver walked towards a puppet, struggling to move with his limping legs, "I was hurt. Very hurt."
"So I lost it one day," The driver looked disappointed, "In a fit of range I killed them. I killed both of them."
"It was in the fit of rage. I had no control over myself," Anger began to take over the driver, "Even though I was their son, why would they never love ? Why?"
"But I still loved them," The old driver spoke with tenderness, "I couldn't live without them."
"I was scared. I didn't know what to do. Bury them? Burn them?"
"But then... It hit . Why waste this opportunity?" He leaned in slightly, his grin stretching wider.
"Why not turn them into sothing beautiful?"
"So when I was done, they weren't just a body anymore. They were my art. And I was the artist."
"You are fucking sick." Lucius looked at him, disgusted.
The driver chuckled, his breath wheezing, "Oh, sweetheart... You think it is sick now," He stepped closer, licking his lips, "But when you get to experience it, you will end up loving ."
"You will be grateful."
"You... You are perfect. The symtry, the flesh, the muscle structure... Trust sweetheart, you will be my masterpiece."
"Ohhh shut up you... Sick bastard," Lucius rolled his eyes looking uninterested, "You are fucking disgusting."
"Hehehe..." The driver laughed, low and wheezy, "I can see the fear in your eyes."
"It makes hard," He whispered.
Lucius snapped. He charged forward, and threw a wild punch right at the driver's jaw.
CRACK!
The driver didn't dodge as he went stumbling back, slamming into a table. One of the puppets above them shook, dropping a bloody finger onto the floor with a soft thud.
"That's the best you can do?" the driver chuckled, "Then let show you what a real man can do."
He swung the hamr, aiming for Lucius's head, but Lucius ducked just in ti. The hamr smashed into the puppet behind him with a loud BANG and it sent the puppet flying.
Lucius kicked the bastard in the gut, making him grunt and stagger back.
Blood sprayed from his mouth as he hit the ground hard. But he wasn't done.
The old freak grabbed a scalpel from the table and lunged at Lucius, slicing deep across his forearm.
"AHHH FUCK!" Lucius shouted, grabbing his arm as blood ran down his skin.
The driver cackled, "See? You bleed beautifully."
Lucius's eyes burned with rage. He grabbed the nearest thing he could... A broken puppet arm and slamd it across the driver's face.
CRACK!
The driver dropped the scalpel and shrieked in pain, clutching his face, "My nose! Aaahhh! You broke my fucking nose!"
Lucius didn't stop. He tackled him to the floor and sent his fist swinging at the driver.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
He punched the old bastard again and again as blood splashed across his knuckles. The driver scread, trying to push him off.
But Lucius was like a wild animal.
He grabbed the driver's hair and smashed his head into the ground.
Once...
Twice...
THUD! THUD!
The floor was soaked in blood again. But this ti, it was the driver's blood. His face was swollen and broken. His eyes barely opened. His nose got crooked.
Lucius stood, his hands shaking and soaked in red.
But the driver still moved.
"You are not done yet?" Lucius smirked, "So am I."
He reached for the hamr that lay beside the driver.
Lucius snarled and kicked him in the ribs... CRACK!
The sound of bone breaking echoed in the room.
The driver let out a choking cough and blood spewed out of his lips.
"You want to make art?" Lucius hissed, "Then here is so fucking abstract for you."
He grabbed the hamr, raised it high...
BANG!
Lucius slamd it down on the driver's shoulder. The bone shattered like glass.
AAAGGGGHHH!!!
The old man scread in pure agony.
But Lucius didn't care. He brought down the hamr again...
BANG!
And again...
BANG!
Blood continued to paint the walls and Lucius's face.
And soon the driver stopped moving.
He was a broken pile of blood, flesh, and shattered bones.
Lucius stood over him, his face splattered in red.
He dropped the hamr. With his hands, his face and then grabbed a cloth from nearby, wrapping it around his bleeding arm.
"I am not your fucking masterpiece."
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[Author's Note: If you are reading the story. Don't forget to let know in the comnts your thoughts, and do vote with Power Stones and Golden Tickets.]
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