Loving of Stories

Strangertale - The Start: Prologue

{From my Stranger Things AU Idea!!! Here's the beginning of it all and I hope you enjoy it!!!!}

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He has long been insane. For as long as his empty mind could dream or recall, only the white of the very void remains from a disaster that never went away. But then the sCrEaMs came. Loud, soft, broken, insane, giggly, annoying, gentle, and the in-between. His mind cracked, fractured until only the hysteria remained. His memories of before forgotten or locked away due to the delirium that ran through his mind. His motives forgotten and destruction sowed endlessly due to the madness that plagued him internally.

But, for some small moments due clarity shine through. Where everything that plagued him comes fully in clarity, of the very actions he has taken and the lives lost to instability. Moments as rare yet precious as he properly mourns for the souls taken and destroyed so mercilessly. Where his own body and mind become so distressed from the very lives lost, the wills broken by his strings, the very souls hanging endlessly in his strings. Bitterness was never foreign anymore during those moments as he realized how much of a puppet he was in all of it. Just a toy to the Voices that were real but could never be caught.

Insanity kicks in after several moments of blissful silence and stormy thoughts to which makes him wonder. Was he really the bad guy? Yes, he has done extremely terrible things but can it really be fully his actions? It made him wonder, wonder so deeply as too if it was fully his actions or the insanity that plagues him endlessly. Insanity was cruel, it made everything seem distorted, wrong, and unjust in his sight. Triggers were everywhere for him, touch, sound, sight, taste, smell, anything.

Yet, mercy was still there in some form. He could never fully remember anything unless fully reminded in some form. And even then, insanity made it seem fine or even good so the depression doesn't fully sink in unless you want it too. But he knew, deep in his pixelia soul, that if sanity was ever granted to him. If he were too gain even a shred of what beings dubbed sanity...

Error knew he may kill himself just to make up for everything he has done.

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Memory was always an iffy thing with him, his madness made his mind all over the place. Many called Ink's memory bad but Error's was just as bad due to the delirium that swam through his mind.(Was it really insanity by this point? What if it was just a memory playing over and over and over and overoveroveroveroVEROVEROVEROVEROVEROvErOvErOvErOvErOvEr-)

He blinked. The mirror portal(was it really a portal? Wasn't it just a mirror showing the siNS-) showed static but Error could see somewhat through the haze of the one-way portal.(whywashehere?whatwasthepointofhisexistence?Hewan't'stogohome.homehomehomehomehomehOMEHOMEHOMEHOMEHOMEHOMEHOMEHoMeHoMeHoMeHoMeHoMeHoMeHoMeHoMeHoMe- WHAT WAS EVEN A HOME?) The area was a forest but gray and lifeless with what seemed to be black vines among the dead like land easily. White flacks run down from above with no end in sight.(What's this calling? Why call to a being such as I? PleasestopithurtswhydoesithurtithurtsithurtsWHYDOESITHURTSOMUCH-).

He blinked again. He then realized something. His left arm and hand was out stretched to the mirror without his input. His body felt safe yet his mind was conflicted as ice and fire itself.(Whydoyoucompelmetocome? Pleasestop,please. Idon'twanttobehurtagain. Pleasejuststopit.)