Categories > Games > Silent Hill > Story's End
DISCLAIMER: You didn't really think I killed her, did you? Snapped her spine and frail little japanese school girl body in half? Pfft! Of course not! Moroi's too fun and sweet to just kill off like that! Anyway, last I checked, Silent Hill was owned by Konami. Nothing has changed. I weep. Moroi however, and the Geisha Nurse are all fabrications of my own warped psyche. On with the Show.
Go Snap!
A SH fic by Q
The young mental patient grit her teeth as sparkles mixed with the tears in her eyes. Another few inches, and there'd be two Moroi Kagyuu's! Her button nose, crinkled and tense from the agony of being pulled backwards, could pick up the acidic, rotten stench of the Geisha-themed nurse's breath. Her head was so close to Moroi's that the needle tip protruding from the monster's skull scraped against the girl's temple. Moroi was in such pain, not many things made sense. yet the girl did know one thing:
She didn't want to die just yet.
Giving up trying to find something to grab on to at ground level, Moroi switched tactics, throwing up her arms and gripping the nurse's hair. Slender fingers dug and tangled into wet, greasy pleats, pathetic nails scratching against a hard, inhuman scalp. Moroi dragged her hands along the stiff, tanned flesh, her hands hitting the needles. Moroi didn't allow herself time to plan, only to act. Gripping the two syringes, Moroi yelled out, tugging the needles free of the Nurse's brain with a wet squeak sound.
The Nurse screamed shrilly, her artificial hand twitching and subsequently releasing the IV packet. The tube loosened it's hold on Moroi's bruised throat and she gasped, dragging herself hastily out from under the nurse. The young patient staggered to her feet, pivoting on the ball of a bare foot to face the disoriented nurse.
The nurse twitched and wailed, and Moroi took advantage of the situation. Quickly, she surveyed her surroundings, taking a mental inventory. The doctor's lounge was still fairly full and intact, as much as this "Dark Brookhaven" could be. A plastic tablecloth covered a plastic table, with sturdy mugs resting simply on the table, long left by their owners. Moroi had seen some pretty nasty stuff jumping from Asylum, to foster home, and back. She was more learned in the dark ways of humanity then even she knew. She quickly folded the cloth over the cups. The mugs clattered noisily as they toppled and were nestled by the plastic cloth-ware. Twisting the ends together, and gripping it tight, a makeshift sack was now in Moroi's firm grip. She charged, swinging her death-sack with fervor.
The first blow connected with the monster's spine, the crack of bone singing with the glassy sound of the mugs shattering. Moroi screamed again, pulling the bag up and over her head, only to bring it down again forcefully on the nurse's already damaged head. A thick liquid the colour of moldy socks which were white once upon a time flew from the monster's skull and splattered against the wall in high, feathery arcs. It smelled of feces and burning vynal.
"Stay!" She cried as she thwacked the monster.
"In!"
"My!"
"HEAD!"
Moroi beat it's head until it was nothing but a pasty mess, that pussy fluid sticking to her bag in thick, gooey strands. With a final kick to the Geisha nurse's ribs, Moroi finally ended her assault on it, her narrow chest quaking with rapid breaths.
"And stop trying to kill me." Her voice added dully.
For about two years now, Moroi Kagyuu's manifestations of her imagination have been coming out of her stories. Some of them seemed so nice, so kind. They'd tell her wonderful things. Like the Blue Fae from the land of Trin, who told Moroi that Trin was a place a thousand times better then Heaven, where Moroi could fly and eat her favorite foods not to live, but to just taste them on her tongue. Moroi would have a pet horsie in Trin, named Flatly, and all Moroi would have to do to pass from this world to that world, was to break the mirror in her room.
With her face.
So she did.
Moroi was sedated for a week because of that violent episode, and that was where she met Mister Stanley Coleman, who told the girl safe stories. Moroi was quite a bit more stable under Stanley's influence. But, Stanley is dead now.
Moroi carelessly dropped the tablecloth, her ears deaf to the sound of the shattering mugs as she stepped from the monster, looking around for anything more practical then a few-pound-heavy sack of shattered pottery. She pierced the silence with a sharp-toned squeak as the pad of her foot was pricked by something sharp. Moroi hopped back of her good foot, looking at what had upset her foot sole. Resting calmly, like it had every right to be there, lay a sheathed scalpel. She smiled, picking up the instrument and uncapping it. The cover was rubbery, but Moroi paid it no mind, she was more concerned about the scalpel's blade.
It was sharp, good as new, the blade about two inches long. Another smile crawled along Moroi's lips as she re-sheathed the blade, and tucked it into her pantywaist. It was small, but it could come in handy...
Hastily, Snailgirl moved to the door and quickly exited, retracing her steps back to the elevator. Again, nothing had changed, deserted as ever. Moroi grumbled, wishing someone sane was with her. Then again, this was a place for crazy people.
A forceful clatter greeted the girl as she tried to open the double doors to the next wing. Locked.
"That's odd...Who could've locked...?" Moroi's brows furrowed as she tried once again to open the doors. Again they clattered, blocking her way. With a sigh, Moroi turned to the door to the stairs. It however, was unlocked and quite inviting.
Ascending the stairs, Moroi came to a stop at the door to floor two. On the doorknob hung a doctor's head-mounted light. The young girl gripped the tough rubber strap, pulling it from the door handle and adjusting it for her own dainty skull. Moroi snapped it on, the strap hugging her head tightly. With a satisfied nod, Moroi flicked on the small spotlight, and proceeded to floor two.
Fri July 9th 4:14pm 2004
Go Snap!
A SH fic by Q
The young mental patient grit her teeth as sparkles mixed with the tears in her eyes. Another few inches, and there'd be two Moroi Kagyuu's! Her button nose, crinkled and tense from the agony of being pulled backwards, could pick up the acidic, rotten stench of the Geisha-themed nurse's breath. Her head was so close to Moroi's that the needle tip protruding from the monster's skull scraped against the girl's temple. Moroi was in such pain, not many things made sense. yet the girl did know one thing:
She didn't want to die just yet.
Giving up trying to find something to grab on to at ground level, Moroi switched tactics, throwing up her arms and gripping the nurse's hair. Slender fingers dug and tangled into wet, greasy pleats, pathetic nails scratching against a hard, inhuman scalp. Moroi dragged her hands along the stiff, tanned flesh, her hands hitting the needles. Moroi didn't allow herself time to plan, only to act. Gripping the two syringes, Moroi yelled out, tugging the needles free of the Nurse's brain with a wet squeak sound.
The Nurse screamed shrilly, her artificial hand twitching and subsequently releasing the IV packet. The tube loosened it's hold on Moroi's bruised throat and she gasped, dragging herself hastily out from under the nurse. The young patient staggered to her feet, pivoting on the ball of a bare foot to face the disoriented nurse.
The nurse twitched and wailed, and Moroi took advantage of the situation. Quickly, she surveyed her surroundings, taking a mental inventory. The doctor's lounge was still fairly full and intact, as much as this "Dark Brookhaven" could be. A plastic tablecloth covered a plastic table, with sturdy mugs resting simply on the table, long left by their owners. Moroi had seen some pretty nasty stuff jumping from Asylum, to foster home, and back. She was more learned in the dark ways of humanity then even she knew. She quickly folded the cloth over the cups. The mugs clattered noisily as they toppled and were nestled by the plastic cloth-ware. Twisting the ends together, and gripping it tight, a makeshift sack was now in Moroi's firm grip. She charged, swinging her death-sack with fervor.
The first blow connected with the monster's spine, the crack of bone singing with the glassy sound of the mugs shattering. Moroi screamed again, pulling the bag up and over her head, only to bring it down again forcefully on the nurse's already damaged head. A thick liquid the colour of moldy socks which were white once upon a time flew from the monster's skull and splattered against the wall in high, feathery arcs. It smelled of feces and burning vynal.
"Stay!" She cried as she thwacked the monster.
"In!"
"My!"
"HEAD!"
Moroi beat it's head until it was nothing but a pasty mess, that pussy fluid sticking to her bag in thick, gooey strands. With a final kick to the Geisha nurse's ribs, Moroi finally ended her assault on it, her narrow chest quaking with rapid breaths.
"And stop trying to kill me." Her voice added dully.
For about two years now, Moroi Kagyuu's manifestations of her imagination have been coming out of her stories. Some of them seemed so nice, so kind. They'd tell her wonderful things. Like the Blue Fae from the land of Trin, who told Moroi that Trin was a place a thousand times better then Heaven, where Moroi could fly and eat her favorite foods not to live, but to just taste them on her tongue. Moroi would have a pet horsie in Trin, named Flatly, and all Moroi would have to do to pass from this world to that world, was to break the mirror in her room.
With her face.
So she did.
Moroi was sedated for a week because of that violent episode, and that was where she met Mister Stanley Coleman, who told the girl safe stories. Moroi was quite a bit more stable under Stanley's influence. But, Stanley is dead now.
Moroi carelessly dropped the tablecloth, her ears deaf to the sound of the shattering mugs as she stepped from the monster, looking around for anything more practical then a few-pound-heavy sack of shattered pottery. She pierced the silence with a sharp-toned squeak as the pad of her foot was pricked by something sharp. Moroi hopped back of her good foot, looking at what had upset her foot sole. Resting calmly, like it had every right to be there, lay a sheathed scalpel. She smiled, picking up the instrument and uncapping it. The cover was rubbery, but Moroi paid it no mind, she was more concerned about the scalpel's blade.
It was sharp, good as new, the blade about two inches long. Another smile crawled along Moroi's lips as she re-sheathed the blade, and tucked it into her pantywaist. It was small, but it could come in handy...
Hastily, Snailgirl moved to the door and quickly exited, retracing her steps back to the elevator. Again, nothing had changed, deserted as ever. Moroi grumbled, wishing someone sane was with her. Then again, this was a place for crazy people.
A forceful clatter greeted the girl as she tried to open the double doors to the next wing. Locked.
"That's odd...Who could've locked...?" Moroi's brows furrowed as she tried once again to open the doors. Again they clattered, blocking her way. With a sigh, Moroi turned to the door to the stairs. It however, was unlocked and quite inviting.
Ascending the stairs, Moroi came to a stop at the door to floor two. On the doorknob hung a doctor's head-mounted light. The young girl gripped the tough rubber strap, pulling it from the door handle and adjusting it for her own dainty skull. Moroi snapped it on, the strap hugging her head tightly. With a satisfied nod, Moroi flicked on the small spotlight, and proceeded to floor two.
Fri July 9th 4:14pm 2004
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