Somethings wrong with our bodies (an inanimate insanity horror fanfic)

"Lets start with the introductions shall we?"

"Should I start?"

*shuffle, shuffle*

"..."

"Okay..."

"..."

*shuffle, shuffle, shuffle*

"S-sorry I'll start..."

*shuffle...*

POV: Ťø $øøñ çħīłð...

It started with the nosebleeds.

Thick scarlet blood dampening your lips and chin like red tears, running down the crevices of your face.

Everyone learned to stick tissues up their noses if they wanted peace of mind.

That we could adapt to.

Then the moon rose on the last day of the fourth week of our unfortunate bloody situation, casting our hotel in thick shining light that lulled us to sleep like a child cradled in a mother's arms.

That's when the nightly amputations started.

As the sun rose on the fifth week and groggy contestants stumbled out of bed. Nickel raised his shiny body so the sun dazzled him stretched and slammed his feet onto the floor.

His feet made no noise.

Well they did but he couldn't hear it.

By the start of the fifth week we woke up to screams instead of alarm clocks or birdsong.

By the start of the fifth week objects grew suspicious.

By the start of the fifth week nickel was condemned to forever sulk in silence, the poor five cent now deaf and scarred for life.

Then paintbrush followed suit, for them it was their right eye.

And for me I lost my tongue.

It was just as basic as everyone else's recounts: woke up to the sun rising, went about my daily tasks and with a jolt realized my painful forever disability.

And just like everyone else had to make accommodations to my new life.

Of course we all moved out of those restricting and dangerous orange walls, and as the sun set on the shanty little bus the hotel faded into memory.

Then we woke up. On our bright orange bed with the familiar logo embroidered onto the bright orange sheets surrounded by bright orange walls. Inside a bright orange hotel.

Panic rose, stress raised, primal rage reared its ugly face at us while the walls jeered and cackled at our misfortune. Taunting us and enclosing us in a prison of fear.

We would always wake up in our beds, weither we slept in the floor of the hotel, in the woods, bus, or boat.

Of course the ideas of the shimmers returning floated down the river of our suspicions, along with the possibility of cobs having something to do with this, or this all being a challenge set up by our gracious host mephone.

And of course demons, ghosts, or supernatural things also drifted along. we all exchanged our ideas over a meager dinner with tones tainted in fear.

And then the doors locked.

All outside doors locked, all windows sealed with massive iron plates screwed to the outside blocking our view of the outside with its thick steel.

Of course we screamed and pleaded and panic rose within us.

Of course we tried to break down the doors and shatter the windows.

When crying and screaming didn't work we drank water to soothe our dry torn throats and turned to other means of escape, tearing the wallpaper off to punch a hole through the drywall -as we drifted to sleep under the rising moon we awoke to the wall healed completely-

Tried to use the elevator to go to the roof and scope our our surroundings -the elevator didn't go to the top-

Tried to call the cops -phone lines dead-

Some adjusted, some slowly deteriorated to fits of screaming and violence, some persistently clawed at the walls until nails bled looking for means of escape.

I was in the middle of option "a" and "b"

"Hi..."

"Nice to meet you."

"...Im paintbrush, I will speak for suitcase in this situation given her inability to talk."

*shuffle, shuffle*

"..."

*shuffle*

"...oh?"

"...Suitcase wants to tell you about her theories on this place"

"...She has important information....."

~~627 words bitches, Prologs done as well. Feelin good, feelin good 😎😎~~