from the OTHER archives: Socks, Part 4, Chapters 21-23

The eighteenth of October wasn’t a bad day. It certainly wasn’t a good day, but it wasn’t bad. Just another lukewarm day in search of a four-day weekend.

In more exciting news, in an unexpected bout of writing, I seem to have found myself two-thirds of the way through writing TWLF. Maybe- gasp!- I’ll finish it before October. Or at least by November. And then there’s the coma of the week of rest… I’m ready for rest.

But a true writer never rests.

I can feel bad things happening to Tim… this is the first time in hours that I can feel his presence somewhere in this building. I can feel bad things happening to him… knives, scalpels, lots of people…

I can feel lots of things too- like a waste of a chapter. We already know what’s going on, Algeria. You don’t have to explain it all to us again.

And there’s Tomorrow. That’s never a good thing.
Back away from my boy! He’s mine!

I don’t think that they’re going to be doing any naughty business on the operating table, so don’t jump to conclusions. Plus, if you love someone, you don’t force them through psychological torture. Protip to my readers out there.

I must distract her and make her stop whatever they’re doing to him.

“It’s now my break time,” Tomorrow slowly explained to a not-so-coherent freak who was overseeing the operation.

Why is he overseeing the operation instead of a certified professional? What is even going on here anymore? Shouldn’t Tim be in a sterile environment?

“Make sure that you do the vocal cords right. I don’t want you screwing up because that means I have to come back in before my break time is over. Understand?” She left the operating room when the freak had nodded her understanding.
Tomorrow had gone halfway down the hallway when a painful migraine blossomed out of nowhere and sent her sprawling to the floor in pain.

This is it! This is the end! Soon my suffering will be gone, all of it taken on by Tomorrow! As long as she doesn’t decide to get a god complex and demand that I worship her for something I didn’t ask her to do.

Oh, wait…

“Aw… gawl… WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?” she screamed. Her voice cut like a knife through the empty hallway and made people in rooms unknown cringe in pain and fear.

That, my dear, is called a migraine. I suggest some pain medication and a nice quiet place with a bed.

A familiar voice streamed into her head- 1, 2, I am coming for you…
Hey, this one time, Emma read a book that was as creepy as you. And there was this one song in it that made lots of kids shudder when Emma showed them.

I honestly don’t remember this book at all. Can you name your sources, G? Maybe @ them next time?

The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
They eat your guts like sauerkraut,

All I’m finding on Google is something called “The Hearse Song”. One mention of a movie by a lady who had forgotten the name of said movie and wanted help finding it. No books.

A scream went through the air.
They eat your eyes, they eat your nose,
They eat the dirt between your toes.

I still haven’t found the book that you’re referencing, G. Come on. I know you could keep better records than this.

Another scream went through the air.
I’m going to leave now. Do not touch my boyfriend or I will come again.

Tomorrow, I would recommend a tinfoil hat. Sure, it’s not very fashionable, but it should keep Algeria from succeeding in any telepathic attacks.

Or you could just move away from her. Distance would work.

It was midnight of the next day when one of the freaks shouted down the hall, “THE VOCAL CORDS ARE DONE!” Tomorrow was there in a couple of seconds.

Can Tomorrow teleport now? I’m not trying to mock her. I’m genuinely confused.

“Hmm. For once you freaks did something right. Tim, your eyes look so sad. We haven’t even done them yet. What’s wrong?”

Doesn’t Soona Bris have a government? Why aren’t they monitoring this place? You’d think that, with all the human rights violations here, they’d be all over this place like ugly on an ape.

But of course it’s a dystopian government that condones these actions. That still doesn’t excuse Tomorrow’s complete lack of empathy.

The sharp, stabbing migraine came back as an unknown voice said in her head, I refuse to talk to you with my mouth, for you have changed my voice. I can feel that something’s different. I know that you didn’t know that I was telepathic. I never told you before.

You’d think that, with all Tomorrow’s power, she could have just looked inside of his files and known that. But nope, our antagonist makes a critical error again.

“I don’t care… all I want you to do… is get out of my head!” Tomorrow painfully said in between painful gasps of air.
“Is there something wrong?” one of the male freaks asked. “Is there anything I can do?”
She sucked in another painful gasp of air. “Just get started on the eyes.”

You know, maybe my choice in music this evening as I wrote this was a mistake. I’m already perturbed beyond belief, and now I’ve got to deal with this writing. Someone please shoot me now. The green fields can’t come fast enough.

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