"What useless creations..." A voice echoed endlessly throughout the house.
Anyone passing by wouldn't have given a second thought, passing it off as some sort of roleplay. It had nothing to do with them, so they wouldn't even spare a glance.
Humans were selfish and greedy after all.
They wouldn't be so generous as to sacrifice their own time to appreciate the work of an unknown child.
Humans were cruel and idiotic creatures after all.
They wouldn't bother themselves with the woes of others.
They wouldn't understand this 'art'. This 'art', that even a child could make sense of. It was a simple piece, consisting of three layers.
The first layer: the 'canvas' — a majestic hallway, scattered with various aesthetics: family photos, expensive paintings, flowers... and a cracked, frozen clock.
The second layer: the 'lighting'— gleaming moonlight, gently seeping in through a lonely window...
And underneath, just out of the moon's reach, laid two objects, painted red and motionless — the third layer: the 'focus'. In other words, the 'main color' — red.
Red could depict many emotions: love, anger... but this particular red was far more sinister. Defining it was a putrid smell that could easily cause one to faint. What was it...? Death. The two objects — the focus — were corpses. Rotting, pungent bodies; the husks of imperfect beings. Or what was left of them.
They barely retained the features of a human, almost alien; amalgamations of irregularities drowned in blood.
Disfigured limbs, gouged-out eyeballs, thoroughly-torn ears, spilling organs... Perhaps most disturbing were the shattered rib cages—something that was supposed to be inside them was missing. Someone had stolen them. But who...? Ah. It must have been that voice.
Sure enough, in the midst of the gruesome scene stood a lone figure — a childish figure with bloodied hands, staring at the red blossoms beneath them with vacant eyes. Black-white triangular ears, twin pink ribbons, long light-brown hair... and a maniacal, yet cute smile.
It was all as expected by her. Ģ̵̰̳̝̿̈́̑ọ̶̫̖͍̆̾d̶͕̪̔̔̀͜ had finally broken; Ģ̵̰̳̝̿̈́̑ọ̶̫̖͍̆̾d̶͕̪̔̔̀͜ had taken the first step towards insanity, and turning back was no longer an option. G̷̨̨͍̭̣̀̆͋͘͝ő̷͖̥͓̟̻͗̓̚d̶̦͇̐͊ͅ'̶̰̼́̃͂̌ș̵̛̭͔͉̍̎ raging thoughts were nigh impossible to pacify:
<k̵̛͓͗̈͒̽ŏ̸̯̘͌̄͑>I will fix this imperfect world of mine.</k̵̛͓͗̈͒̽ŏ̸̯̘͌̄͑>
YOU ARE READING
Miako: The Child of the Night
ParanormalHalf-humans, demi-humans, creatures of the devil, or simply 'hybrids'. What are they? How did they come to exist? Not a single person from this universe knows the answer. One thing is clear: they're here to stay. It's long past the point of removing...
