Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Who Put The Words In Your Head?

Chapter Four

by frankxgerard 1 review

Jason walked on, toward the huge tower in the middle of the absurd scene. The door was wide open, but of course he couldn’t see past the doorway.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Fantasy,Horror - Characters: Gerard Way - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2008-01-17 - Updated: 2008-02-05 - 1126 words

This isn't like anything I've written before. It's written from a OMC's point of view, and it's really a crack!fic, so beware.

But, I think it'll be okay.


Jason opened his eyes. It was bright, and he was lying on something hard; in other words: not in his room and not on his bed. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head. He’d been sleeping on rock. White marble.

He looked around. He was in a garden. Hedges lined the perimeter and merged in with the odd-shaped marble flower beds and fountains in some places.

Plant arches and brass gates accented the entire thing; it was all miles long and miles wide. Jason could barely see where it ended.

He stood, his feet silent against the ground. In fact, everything was silent. It was completely quiet and even when the trees moved, there was no rustling.

Jason walked toward one of the gates that separated the square he was in from the rest of the garden, opening it and leaving. As soon as he did, the sound came back. Birds chirped and he could hear gentle swishing from the plants, but the bright surrealism stayed the same.

There was movement; he wasn’t alone. But he couldn’t turn and look. If he did, he knew it would be gone. It blurred just out of his line of sight, and then disappeared moments later, flitting in and out for a second.

He walked through another gate and out of the corner of his eye he saw a rabbit. It was a rabbit in a rabbit suit walking- hopping on its hind legs. There was no mask; it was real. He turned toward it, and it didn’t fade. It was hopping toward him from the outer edge, taking forever and no time at all as it did. It passed him, and Jason saw that its fur was dirty and ruffled, but perfect at the same time.

He looked toward one of the circular ponds. It was bottomless. The walls were made of stars and empty faces floated through the silvery liquid, open-mouthed and screaming at him. They were trapped though, he saw now; their lips were closed with iron clasps and bandages were stuck over their bleeding eyes. They weren’t allowed to see him.

The next gate he went through was covered in thorns, bright red thorns against twisting green stems so he couldn’t see through the bars of the gate at all. He got closer and realized the thorns weren’t really thorns at all, just caterpillars all twisting together, waving their bristling bodies toward him. They had eyes- big staring eyes with dark pupils, gazing up at him from their position.

He opened the gate, paying no heed to their crawling legs groping at his forearms. He walked a few steps into the next circle and they dissipated, as if driven away by something, leaving his arm instantly to latch themselves to the metal again.

Jason walked on, toward the huge tower in the middle of the absurd scene. The door was wide open, but of course he couldn’t see past the doorway. It was black until he stepped in, and light flooded his eyes. It was a circular shaped room, the tower going up and up until it opened to the sky, light coming in so bright it hurt his eyes. He averted his gaze and looked to the center of the room.

Two beings were positioned in the middle, one cross-legged and the other standing next to it, one hand on the firsts shoulder. Their skin was clear, translucent to show their insides; tender beating hearts and clear, whitish lungs. Sexless and completely bare, they were frozen, statue-like with all the signs of life trapped inside the glassy shells.

They watched Jason, the dark pits where their eyes should have been following him as he made his way through the room to the other side where there was a door. He stepped through into a long hall.

Huge magnified eyes stared at him from the walls. They weren’t dimensional, but as if pasted onto the walls. They were moving frantically as he walked, dizzying themselves as they whirled around against the bright blue background of the tunnel.

Jason walked for what could’ve been hours. He got to the end without even seeing it coming, stepping straight into another room. It was built of black and white puzzle pieces.

Oversized, crème-colored, doll furniture made up the room. There was a mannequin on the sofa, carved eyes and painted hair taunting Jason silently as it sat. A tiny finger-trap teacup sat in one delicate hand and its legs were nailed to the floor, pearl tears streaking its perfectly flawed face and dripping to the floor where they were soaked up into the puzzle.

Jason opened the next door. A man he immediately recognized as Gerard sat at the end of a long, oak banquet table; one of his legs was crossed over his other and his arms folded. His jeans were ripped and bloody at the knees, and his eyes were covered by blackened gauze wrapped around his head.

Jason walked toward him, hearing distant, ghostly singing in his ears with every step. There were no walls in this room, he noted, just black shadows stretching farther until he couldn’t see. But if he really looked, he could make out light drifting in from grey concrete arches in the middle of the black abyss. The kind that would normally surround a courtyard.

Jason got to the end of the table and the chair was empty. He looked back at the rows and rows of chairs and realized abruptly that each was made of metal barbs, and on each was impaled a single, fresh human head, bleeding down to the floor where the excess was drained into grates under the wooden table. The heads each had three staples through their mouths, and two over each eyelid.

Jason turned back and Gerard was standing behind the last chair, the only one without the de-bodied cranium. Because the chair was the guillotine. Rusted metal and sharp angles, bolted down to the pale concrete.

Jason stared at Gerard, and realized his hands were cuffed together to the blade. In his back pocket was a staple gun, rusty red staining the handle. He looked closer and saw the large, Frankenstein-like bolts on each side of Gerard’s neck, and then the blue stitches down his jaw and up the side of his head, going straight through his hair from under the bandage.

And Jason walked on, because Gerard was just another part of this freak show. An exhibit.
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