The Last Days of Parrsboro

by Eakin

9/21/2013

9/21/2013

Serendipity, or fate? A long time ago I would have said the former, but now that She has given me this task I’m more inclined towards the latter. The last few months have been such a trial. I can’t count how many chisels and tools I’ve destroyed trying to carve this thing, but it’s been stubborn. Doesn’t want to give up its secrets, I suppose. Honestly, it might have beaten me if I hadn’t gotten as frustrated as I did, lashed out and punched the damn thing right there in the middle of my workshop.

Thing about crystals? They’ve got some very sharp points. Cut my hand bad. Real bad. Blood everywhere, and I hate the sight of blood. Guess I better get used to it, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

So after I bandaged myself up, I came back to clean up the mess. I thought it would just be a matter of wiping stuff up, maybe using some bleach. But the blood that had gotten onto the crystal did something funny. Couldn’t wipe it off, and instead it sorta sunk into it, like it was trickling in through some tiny cracks. When I went to try to start chipping away again, I carved right through the bloody parts like a chainsaw through hot butter. Only a couple centimeters, tops, but it’s more progress than I’ve made on this thing in the last month.

Gonna need more blood. A lot more.

Comments

[Jondor]

Feed me Seymour~ Feed me all night long~

[Pega-ace]

When I went to try to start chipping away again, it carved right through the bloody parts like a chainsaw through how butter.

I'm guessing "hot butter"? The story is very riveting though. And starting to get really spooky.