No More Freshness

~∆~Ch. 19~∆~

  "Wow, brother! That's amazing!"

  "Yeah, yer really good at making' dem puppets, Error brah."

  "They aren't that good. And anyways, the button eye is the wrong color. I meant to put a yellow button. This is green."

  "That doesn't matta, brah! Inky brah wull love it!"

  "Y-ya!"

  "I... I guess."
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  Error sighed as he sat up from the dream. Something new, at least. He had the voices of those blobs. He just didn't know which ones. And a name: Inky. Maybe a nickname? He wasn't sure.

  He had grown tired these past few days, even though all he could do was sleep. He was tired of yelling, tired of running, tired of trying to find a way out, and now he was tired of sleeping.

  He thought for a moment. If... If he had been able to make puppets, maybe he still could? He had seen the strings appear once before, after a severe nightmare that was full of voices; demons calling out to kill him. The strings had flung out of his fingers, and he watched as they disappeared.

Error attempted to summon the strings, smiling in surprise when small strings wrapped around his fingers. He focused in on the thought of making puppets, and two crotchet needles appeared in front of him. He grabbed them and fjmbled them around. After a moment, it was as if the string had a mind of its own, and it began to whir around, spinning and changing colors.

  He closed his eyes and focused on one of the voices from his dream, the calm and slightly stuttering one. After a few minutes, the needles stopped moving, and he opened his eyes. In his hands was a small doll, instead of a puppet. It was white, and definitely a skeleton. It had one blacm button for an eye socket, and where the other eye socket would be was a bunch of white glitches. It had a white jacket and tan-ish pants with black shoes.

  The thing that stood out the most to Error was the crimson scarf that hung loosely to the doll. For some reason, it seemed as if he remembered a hand always clutching a similar scarf out of anxiety. He fingered the scarf, the fabric looking slightly teared with many small details included. He wondered how he made this. Especially without even looking. He used his strings to hang it from the roof, the blue strings bringing back a vague memory.

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  "Error stop, please! I didn't do anything to you!" A small voice cried. It was strange, it sounded like the voice from the dream, but less... 90s?

  "Yes you did, FREAK. You not caring about Geno is enough. More than enough. You should be the one in the hospital, not him! He deserves to live! You DON'T!" He heard his own voice scream before he heard a sickening crack, and watched as a small... Blob... Fell to the ground. He heard a sob from the blob and heard him mutter something.

  "What was that, Freak?" He heard himself spit at the character. He had a feeling the blob's name was NOT Freak. He saw the blob turn a blurry... Face? Yeah, face, towards the other him. Or maybe it was him?

  "I s-said... I kn- knew dat already, Error. Y-ya've made dat purty clear dese last few months...," the small blob looked down, and he saw his own face comfort in confusion, which then turned to anger. He saw the other him scoff, hitting the other blob in the ribs a few times, before walking off and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

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   Was that blob important to him somehow? That was the second time he had seen him. He didn't know.