The Beast Made of Ink

Chapter 3: Henry's Life (Part 1)

A/N: This is the life story of Henry told through his eyes. 

-Henry's P.O.V.-

It was back in 1944 when I started working at Joey Drew studios at 16 years old. Back then I was a simple errand boy. However, that position all changed back in 1950 when I was promoted to become a cartoonist/animator, and oh boy it was a time to be alive. We would draw and draw for hours on end the same characters and their everyday lives. To most this probably sounds gruesome and boring, but for me, it was therapeutic. Not to mention I just love art and drawing in and of itself.

However, the love in which I have for art has started to go down, ever since the 1960's hit that is. You see, my once friendly boss Joey Drew started acting like he was possessed by the devil himself, and Sammy Lawrence wasn't that much better off. When colored television was released, the black and white cartoon series Bendy the Dancing Demon refused to change its style.

Joey was so stubborn, screaming to the entire staff whenever anybody mentioned the loss of popularity in our cartoon that, "We don't need those damn colors! All we need is ink ink ink!"

And it certainly didn't help that Sammy had started scribbling pentagrams instead of musical notes on his sheet music.

Those two ended up becoming the workplace's own personal psychos, and it was no wonder why.

They had both become devil worshippers.

When this was revealed, many of the people had decided to leave the studio, I being one of the few left behind. However, I was forced to leave not long after, all thanks to a certain devil darlin'.

The year was 1962, and it was a normal day just like any other, when suddenly, everything just stopped.

A screeching metallic sound filled the halls as blood had begun to dribble out of my ears. The building rattled and the lights flickered, as the screeching noises soon began to mix with wails of agony, their screams loud and pained enough to make me, a grown man, cry. Panicking, I got out of my chair and crawled underneath my desk thinking it was an earthquake, my hands covering my ears as tears and blood streamed their way down my head.

Then, just as it all had started, it had stopped.

Cautiously, I crawled out from underneath my desk, the blood in my body going a million miles an hour due to the fear coursing through my veins. I was barely given a chance to look around as the then flickering lights all just went out, leaving me in pitch black.

Well, nearly pitch black.

Way down the hall, past my desk and the entryway to the studio, down the hall even further and across from the break-room, there stood a lone light flickering.

My steps were first cautious ones, but then remembering that Sammy and Joey were still here and that they could have gotten hurt, my cautious steps turned into a running frenzy as I raced down to the lit room, and once I got there, a new noise had decided to fill my ears.

It was chanting. But for what?

I couldn't understand what they were saying. I've never heard such gibberish like words escape from anyone's mouth until today! But from the way that whoever the people were spoke them, the way each syllable came out in such confidence and unison, I knew that they knew what they were doing.

Following the noise through the dark room, I soon found myself in another room, the room across from the ink machines on/off switch, and there, underneath some burst pipe, ink flowing from the ceiling, was a corpse. Its chest is cut open, revealing each of its ribs, and surrounding the hanging corpse was none other than Joey Drew and Sammy Lawrence themselves. They were chanting away as the candles they had placed out flickered between their pentagram that was drawn around the door deceased soul.