Mister Blue [DISCONTINUED]
Description
This is a story that began with a white room, oblique picture frames, a single summer, and a ghost without a name.
I turned, prepared to leave the room back where I’d entered from, but stopped the second I noticed movement from the side of my eye. I turned back curiously; unsure whether or not my vision was playing tricks with me; and stared intently at the bed, taking in every pleat of the white sheets and every crinkle in it until I witnessed a corner of the seamless satin slip.
Unconsciously, my lips parted at the unexpected sight. A slender shin exposed itself; Hayoung’s skin practically gleaming under the glow of the invading moonlight. I stared at the appendage with frightening attentiveness: how her small, surprisingly stubby toes as opposed to her spider leg fingers curled into her bowed feet with painstaking deliberation. The rest of her form took on the image of a snow-buried relic; her body veiled by a large sheet that rarely shifted, and I could only imagine it was because she was asleep.
I approached the foot of the bed tentatively. My eyes were trained on her sleeping form and did not leave her – despite the fluttering of my lashes and uneasy streaks in my vision – even as I occupied the empty half of it. Carefully, I treaded over the sheets.
I could feel something inside the bloated balloon in my mind swirl and thump like a restless animal upon doing so. I didn’t want to wake her. And yet at the same time, I couldn’t understand why this troubled me so. I was just so compelled to do what I did next that I felt a spectrum of things I could barely fathom, but alas, simply could not care to.
I tucked my knees behind me, clasped my wrist with my left hand, cautiously put my head on the empty pillow beside hers, and laid down, watching her. I wasn’t as surprised as I ought to have been when Hayoung’s eyes suddenly opened. She stirred, slowly cracked open her eyelids, stared vaguely at my chin; I was certain; and remained that way for far too long a time to keep track of. She certainly couldn’t see me; that much, I was certain of.
Yet there were moments when I felt she could.
"You held the world
"But who is holding you?"
- Petroglyphs
Soundtrack:
The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus - Your Guardian Angel
Whoo - Ice
Porcupine Tree - Lazarus
Killswitch Engage - Always
Hiroyuki Sawano - From Sunset to Sunrise
Petroglyphs - Perception
Bangtan Sonyeondan - Butterfly (Prologue ver.)
Foreword
Late, but as of June 2019, this story is discontinued. Many apologies, but I've been severely uninspired to keep writing for it, and I know full well I may never again.
This is a work of fiction, and if perhaps there are any similarities here with other works, please note it is purely coincidental, as the idea for this story was something I conjured myself with the help of many different inspirations. All character portrayals are purely fictional.
Warning: This story is not rated M, but I would like to put a warning here that in the future chapters, content that some may find uncomfortable will be touched. This content is specifically abuse-related. Don't worry, though, as such chapters will be rated M and a written warning will appear at the beginning of them. Thank you.
I must admit that what inspired this was a painting by an artist I looked up to way back in the day. I was around 13-14 years old when I first saw it, and to this day, the image is still fresh in my mind. It's been a long time since then. Other inspirations for Mister Blue consist of: Bangtan's 'I NEED U' music video, railway tracks, and photographs of rain-plagued cities.
It's my first angst/slice of life kind of story here, which is a lot different compared to my other works. It's going to be short, hopefully, and one that's going to make your mind reel. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing.
Big thanks to lostinkorea from cloud9 graphic shop for this stunning poster. Do check them out!
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