Bleace

By R. Lannom

Reality
What is it?
Living and Dreams
What is in between?

Surpass normality
Living in our own universe
In a foreign being's eye
We may not be fit

This is my Bleace
Exposed for the first time
I hope it's ready
Are you?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543973969

Book preview

you?

Chapter 1

Skriller

A Matridean beast with vermillion scales sits on his ruby-studded platinum throne. It is the only piece of furniture inside the stone-walled room, which is void of any natural light. Flaming torches are hammered in around the room. Thick malicious air from all of the desperate screams makes the room less empty.

With his self-made torture chamber being just a few short strides from his bedchamber, the torture never stops in his castle. The screams are soothing background music, noticed only when they die out. Only the strongest survive death.

Unlike most Matrideans whose horns rise straight up, this beast has one that spirals down almost impaling his massive chest. He sits completely naked except for his crown that perfectly matches his throne. The only thing covering his scales are scars, many on his face. Two eyes — one black, the other lacking pigment— fixate on the stone bed covered in sheets of bloody Consumptian flesh.

If a being

has the ability

to kill

who is to say,

he cannot?

If you have not had

the pleasure

of killing another

of the same species,

do you really know what it is,

to be set free?

Do as you please

as long as you

are with me

Look at these scars,

tell me I don’t know

what bloody pleasure is

Pain and torture,

oh, the two words

are so seductive

when inserted one before the other

There is movement in the sheets on his bed. The beast’s eyes widen as he breathes heavily through his wide nose. Under the freshly skinned hides, a young Creatisizen boy with malachite skin appears.

The beast sips what appears to be red wine from a crystal chalice while keeping his eyes fixed on the boy. He waves his hand; a Matridean soldier with two long horns stemming straight up, dressed in full black and vermilion knight armor with a sword hanging from his belt comes trotting in from the arch leading into the hall.

Tell her she can come dragoon the boy. The beast on the throne has a deep scratching voice that makes the vocal chords of those around him vibrate when he speaks.

Yes, my king, the soldier says as he snaps his feet together. He bows slightly, spins back towards the arch and trots out of the room, through the malicious orange haze. His boots slosh through the maimed body parts scattered across the floor.

The sound tingles

the spine

squish crack squish

He sits up on his throne, eyes fluttering.

I long

for the xy

when I lay around all wet

in the bodies of the just tortured

Make love

to the freshly caught females

some survive to the night

never a xy after

At first

I smile

as they

knowingly

or not

are having sex

on last xy’s perplexities

I love

knowingly

or not

the complexity

of power over

multiple layers of victims

I get off

knowingly

or not

better than with any

amount of

freshly caught females

they barely have a face

let alone a name

The Matridean soldier returns with a female Miserian with amaranthine skin, her face chiseled with fear. Matted cinnabar hair goes in all directions resembling the frayed thoughts glimpsed in her beryl colored eyes. Her grey knee-length gown is covered in cerulean-colored blood. The back of the dress is wet against her bony back.

She takes a deep, heaving breath when she sees the boy, not knowing if he is just asleep, or worse. The soldier releases her arm as it falls slack against her side. Her other arm is bent in front of her, her wrist turned so far back it looks like it is broken.

Skriller smiles to himself.

Orbie! she gasps, that little bit of air the only thing holding her up as she helplessly falls to the ground.

The sound awakens the boy.

Mom? he asks as his xanthic eyes focus on the female lying in scarlet body parts.

The sound of his weak little voice jolts something in the mother. The chiseled look softens as she rigidly moves towards the boy, her joints thick with mucus. The sound tingles the spine. Squish, crack, squish.

What’s going on?

I… she struggles to breathe, let alone speak. I came here… She starts again, trying her best not to sob so she can let the words out.

I came here to tell you I don’t have enough skin.

Skin for what?

We don’t have enough skin to keep you with us anymore.

That is a lie! the beast bellows from the other side of the room.

The mother collapses on her son, crying.

Skriller? What are you doing here?

Your mother is lying to you! Skriller roars, standing from his throne

I don’t… Orbie’s mother cries.

She is lying directly to your face! Look at all of the skin she has left on her.

Orbie notices the blood stains on the back of her gown.

I can’t lose any more skin! I’ll die! she says, lifting her head from the skin sheets.

That is a lie! There isn’t enough skin in the world to separate any good nurturing mother from her child, the beast snarls with a sinister smile.

Mom?

Do you not understand what you have to do boy? Skriller asks, bending his scarred vermillion face within licking distance. His long dark purple tongue slides across his lips.

I can’t! She’ll die. Orbie protests.

The beast walks up behind the female and grabs her by the back of the neck with his clawed fingers.

Skriller! No! the boy cries.

She is weak. If she won’t use the rest of the skin she has willingly then I will do it for her, he says, a wicked grin showing his razor-sharp teeth.

Orbie turns his head away from Skriller,

"Mom, please just take me with you!

I can help you."

Even if she does die, you can stay with me.

Skriller grabs Orbie’s mother by the arm and wrenches her off the bed. He turns to the Matridean solider standing guard at the only door in the room, Grab the boy and take him to the other chamber.

Orbie tries to resist the guard’s grasp but to no avail. The mucus must also be in his joints as well. His arms and legs move in slow motion.

Why won’t my legs move? Why won’t you move! I can’t get out from under this soaking wet bloody sheet, Orbie screams as his only movements are uncontrollable convulsions.

The guard hoists him up over his shoulder and carries him down the hall. Each step feels 20 y long as he remains right behind Skriller who is dragging the boy’s mother across the floor.

My beloved torture chamber, Skriller boasts as they enter. There was a vermillion haze the exact color of Skriller making him nearly invisible in the room. All that could be seen were his black horns, his crown and his bicolored eyes floating around the room. To the others, he appeared to fill the room, moving ominously around. All the while, all those who entered moved just like Orbie did, without control.

The Matridean soldier held the boy in double under hooks, connecting his hands behind the boy’s head. He was in complete control of Orbie and could point him anywhere he wanted, which was directly in front of his mother who was now handcuffed to the wall.

So, Skriller says as his bicolored eyes scan the room.

There were other guards around the large stone walled room torturing their own victims. They had been working on them a while, so all were silent and spent except for slight sighs that quickly came and went.

Any light the tortured creatures had behind their eyes was dark; much like the state Orbie’s mother was now in. All the fight in her was gone. She lay there completely limp, the only thing keeping her upright were the iron cuffs around her wrists. Brightly lit torches next to her face cast a long shadow on the bloodstained floor.

Your mother is claiming that she doesn’t have enough skin left to keep you. Is that right? Skriller asks.

His eyes nearly touch Orbie’s face.

Do you think your mother is dimwitted or does she think that of you?

I…I don’t know.

Another Matridean soldier marches up with a sheaf in his hand.

Skriller points his claw at the blade, Take it. Show her that she does indeed have enough skin to support you.

The guard lets go of his hold on Orbie while the other extends the sheaf to him.

Show her!

Orbie’s xanthic eyes reach helplessly out to his thinly shelled in mother.

Like mother like son! Skriller mocks as he takes the sheaf from the soldier. For the first time Orbie is able to examine Skriller’s entire body. The brutal dark red scars on his vermillion-scaled skin pulsate with every heartbeat thrumming from his chest as he trudges towards Orbie’s mother. He slices the skin at the top of her scalp just enough to get his claws underneath. In one swoop, he rips the rest of her skin off like he is peeling perfectly ripe fruit.

No! Orbie pleads. Not my mother!

A useless, no sacrificing mother!

I hate you! I hate you!

Who has been there when she hasn’t?

Skriller asks as he bends down to get within an inch of Orbie’s face. Me.

What do you want from me? Orbie asks desperately, trying his best to look away from Skriller’s scaled and scarred face.

Your rage! Skriller roars as he takes his finger and lodges it in Orbie’s eye.

Chapter 2

Orbie

Hey. Hey. Hey. Uhh…you alright in there, you alright in there, you alright in there, Orb? A high-pitched male voice shouted from the other side of a door covered in blue, green, and purple swirls.

Orbie sat up in bed and looked around to make sure he really was back safe in his room. The colored swirls continued on the walls, which moved up and down then side-to-side as if dancing. Orbie knew the walls must have felt his nightmare just as Mike did. This was true of all material objects on the planet of Consumptia. They were made to feed off the energy of beings around them.

Orbie? The voice asked again.

Yea, Yea. I’m alright Mike.

You sure? You were screaming like crazy in there.

Just another nightmare I guess, I’ll be out in a y.

Alright bro, just makin’ sure.

Yea, thanks.

Orbie gazed at the walls. He painted them himself so that he could feel like he was on his own planet, far away from this one.

More importantly, far away from Skriller. He felt his eye. Since he was a boy, he had told himself that Skriller wasn’t real but the way he felt now was all too real. Emotions from these dreams would stick with him the entire xy after. He could feel the claw scratching ever so slightly at the embryonic fluid in his eye. It was irritating, probably just what Skriller wanted, to irritate him. If he is such a powerful beast, why doesn’t he just kill me?

Orbie climbed out of bed, naked with a hard malachite dick. The sexual energy made the swirls on the walls spin faster. Across the room, a LightBox floated in the corner. As soon as Orbie looked at it, it turned on. The grey LightBox had a bright white screen that could play any channel its master desired, even those things he was too afraid to consciously admit. Of course, the programming was restricted to what the master was willing to pay.

Orbie’s grandmother had given him the LightBox. She programmed it to play news channels and soap operas and Orbie didn’t have enough skin to reprogram it. The Light-Box flew over to Orbie, held out a needle and gently probed his temple.

White text appeared on dark screen. The LightBox spoke to his mind directly so no one else could hear. A soft female voice intoned Would you like to order an all-access subscription to the Consumptian Erotica Channel? Order now and get one month skin free.

For the thousandth time. NO! Had enough with your distracting advertising! Orbie glared at the LightBox, wondering if it was just an inanimate object or something more sinister? What keeps the LightBox from ripping off my skin and wearing it, doing as it pleases? Maybe one already had, and this was who he really was — a LightBox that had had enough of being treated like a slave. Free to do whatever he wanted, as long as he had the skin to pay for it.

The LightBox immediately switched to his grandmother’s preferred channel, Consumptian National News. A ruby-skinned female Consumptian was sitting behind a desk. She had deep black eyes, one bigger than the other. Her bright purple hair was always perfect at the show open. By the end of the broadcast it would be anything but. The words Breaking News flashed on the screen.

Good morning Orbie. The LightBox would always try to engage its master by filling in a name whenever applicable. The LightBox tried its best to imitate whoever was speaking but it was always a bit off and more robotic than organic.

"Welcome to Consumptian National News. This is Judge Malign. We have breaking news this morning, another Consumptian killing this xy by a demented Matridean beast born from pure hatred of this great, prosperous, free planet.

This beast slaughtered his entire family, including his wife, 15-xyz-old son, and his two twin eight-xyz-old girls.

Then he went into the nearest mall to mutilate as many innocent Consumptians as he could find. He was up to three victims at the mall before two brave Slamvarian Rusitary took him down with their laser pistols. In all he killed seven beings, if of course you count Matrideans as living beings with a soul. He makes number 185 on our Murderous Rage list this xyz. He could have moved up a few spots if he had put up any sort of fight against the Slamvarian Rusitary soldiers but like most Matrideans, deep down he is weak!"

The word rage burned into Orbie’s brain. He swatted the needle away from his temple and fell back on his bed. He closed his eyes. Your rage! Skriller roars. We will show that bitch what Murderous Rage really is!

Orbie quickly opened his eyes to find the LightBox shoving the needle into his temple again. Judge Malign was still ranting.

The next time someone wants to make a statement by going on a killing spree they had better step it up so that our viewers don’t get bored! We at Consumptian National News aim to inform and entertain. We need more blood, more kills, more unmerciful rage involved with each slice of the knife!

Her wickedly large eye looks directly into the camera. That is what we want isn’t it?

The studio audience shouts back in unison.

YES!

Entranced, Orbie tries to push the needle away but the LightBox uses its other arm to pin him down and forces him to watch, feeding off the fear.

Judge Malign continues, eyes shining with excitement.

"Alright, that is what we promise here, to show you the worst murderers possible. So let’s go Consumptians! Show us what you are made of! We want to see your rage as you unleash it on the weakest little unsuspecting Parasucking victims you can find! Away with their tiny meaningless lives! No one ever cared about them and we certainly do not care about them now!

"All we care to show is you the killer, over and over and over again. We want to internalize that hate in you that has festered for all these xyz inside your mind. Watch as it gets taken out on a hundred innocent beings. Be a killer who creates a new killing fad, one who can think outside the box like last xyz’s winner.

"The one who stabbed all of the pre-schoolers, a hundred innocent Consumptians, their little blood-soaked faces. Yes, I’m talking about Sadam Cranzala, the Pre K Killer, who sliced off the skin of his tiny little victims to make a suit for himself during negotiations.

Take note future killers, this is what will earn you at least three months of airtime. I think we should show that old interview. I would love to watch that again, wouldn’t you?

The audience again replies in unison, Yes! with unbridled enthusiasm.

In a panic, Orbie screamed OFF! The LightBox screen instantly switched to black, the arms retracted.

Orbie sighed in relief before standing up to get dressed.

He threw on a black shirt with grey sweatpants. He looked in the mirror on the left side of the door before opening it. He was a bit older than he was in the dream. Black hair longer, more black spots across his malachite skin with dark insomniac circles around his eyes. Even the lines on his face went deeper when he moved his mouth.

Look in the mirror

What do you see?

Memory can burn

Worse than a third degree

Orbie grasped the door handle that took the exact shape of Orbie’s own hand when he touched it. The handle grabbed his hand as if greeting a friend. The red, blue and green formations swam around the door. The walls didn’t want their energy source to leave. He loved being in his room. If he wasn’t dying of thirst and starving, he would stay and lay in bed for a while. Close his eyes and xydream. The room loved when he did that, objects would fly around happily, trying to keep him endlessly entertained, the best it could.

Xydreaming was the best as long as you stayed conscious of what you were doing. It was when he went into a deep sleep, usually from pure exhaustion that Skriller had the opportunity to creep into the far reaches of his mind. It was on this level that Skriller was trapped, trying so desperately to get out. He stalked Orbie relentlessly whenever he went to sleep.

These walls. This doorknob. Let him know that this was real. Beyond the door was where he could interact with Consumptians, Creatisizens like himself, Miserians like his mother and Contridians like his stepfather. Even though he liked to stay clear away from them he could interact with Matrideans too, if he wanted. Given that is what Skriller was, he wanted no part of them.

Orbie didn’t want any part of anyone he knew in school. Now that he was off on his own in Fort Mymi, his roommate was the only one he hung out with. Venturing outside his bedroom was always a task, let alone the door that went out into the city. The one he had to open five xy of the 7-xy week to go to work at the cemetery. What a Parasucking dead-end job, digging graves and pushing coffins.

Orbie opened the door and walked the short hallway into the living room. The hallway walls lit up at the sight of Orbie, turning from dark blue and black to light blue and purple. They began to move ever so slightly in time with a song only they could hear.

The living room walls were already alive with Mike’s energy as he sat on the large brown reclining couch. He was a trueborn Consumptian, cerise skin with bright xanthic eyes and small black pupils. The Zerk made them shrink from their more natural, larger size. No one living within the capital nation of Consumptia had large black pupils anymore. Everyone was hooked on Zerk and would take it throughout the xy, some more than others. It didn’t matter; it was the only legal drug on the planet. Caught doing anything else meant instant death at the hands of the Slamvarian Rusitary.

Orbie was a Creatisizen, considered a lesser being and therefore not required to be given Zerk as a baby. He never even tried Zerk. Never fancied it. Once you try Zerk, you are hooked for life. That was the point.

What Orbie didn’t like was the constant jitteriness of it. The random jerking motion of the limbs that was utterly uncontrollable. He was used to it in others though and barely noticed anymore.

Mike sat on the couch with two needles in his temple, one from the LightBox and one from his hand-held screen device the Ipoke. It too had an arm that extended to shove a needle in a Consumptian’s temple. Bigger than the one in Orbie’s room, this LightBox was built to entertain an entire family and had capabilities to stab up to seven family members at once! as the advertisement repeated in the malls when it first came out a couple of xyz ago.

This LightBox had an additional screen that acted as a head. It was there to greet beings as they came into the room and hook them up with a needle to the temple. It would play the advertisement every time. A ruby-skinned Consumptian family would be sitting on a couch, dressed in the nicest, cleanest clothes on the planet. Fake smiles pasted on their faces; each family member would say one word at a time: Quick! Easy! Painless! As ever! The family laughed together, needles shoved into their temples.

Mike looked up from his LightBox trance, eyes twitching, arms moving in random movements, jerking and hitting his chest, going over his head and slapping himself.

Hey! Hey! What’s up, Orbie? Come chill, come chill, come chill bro!

Without hesitation the LightBox extended one of its arms and stabbed Orbie in the temple. Amid the haze, the LightBox swayed in front of the sofa holding Mike’s drinks and burnt slices of pineapple. Orbie flopped down next to Mike, facing the large 85-inch screen.

They watch as a large amaranthine-skinned Miserian steps through a bright red curtain backdrop. He is bald, wearing a black Get Flesh or Die Tryin shirt with baggy blue pants. He is wearing several large necklaces made of chunks of flesh strung with rubies. The back of his shirt reads Kraday all xy.

Flesh

nice rides

beautiful Consumptian females

is all I need to live full throttle

never stoppin’ in the middle to pop bottles

I am at the top

never in between

even when I be in between

in some pretty young thing

I stay on top

you fuckin’

know what I mean!

Everybody fuckin’ Jump!

Kraday all xy

that’s right!

I’m real

put yo hands to the sky

Kraday all fuckin’ xy

that’s right!

I’m real

the rest are fake

catch ‘em in a drive by

Whatever I have

is whatever I make!

fuck fate

I’m eatin’

get ya own plate

No Consumptian

can handle this

I am just too much

how much?

too fuckin’ much

No Consumptian

can fuckin’ touch this

it’s stupid

look at all I got

it’s stupid!

So, lets

get fuckin’ stupid!

Get dumb with it!

Lean with it!

Rock with it!

Get fuckin’ stupid!

Get fuckin’ stupid!

Mosh pit!

I said fuckin’ mosh pit!

Get dumb with it!

Yes!

Get dumb with it!

Kraday jumps up and down. One of the bloody chunks of ruby-skinned flesh on his necklace smacks him in the face. He grabs it