How to Build Yourself: Chapter 1 – Living as gods

Chapter 1 – Living as gods

The first place that I go to is one where the most doll parts are sold. Here, it is common for a person to be wearing one head one day and a completely different body the next. Many models show off the latest outfits and doll pieces and act as real life mannequins. There are also many who change their appearance to change their identity either due to their change or some wrong they’ve done. This can make this place really shady and dangerous in places since you won't exactly know if a doll is a criminal with a changed appearance.

One of the ways to tell that a doll changed their head is their voice, which will sound warped and their face will move strangely. Changing your head is expensive and I’m not just saying that from hearsay since I’m seeing the prices for them now in the market and they literally cost more than a new set of arms and legs.

“Have you run away from home, little lady?” a shopkeeper asks, “Are you looking to disappear and look for a new life?”

This shopkeeper doesn’t look trustworthy. They have many necks with heads on them. They’re more of a hydra if dolls could be one.

“No, thank you,” I answer before disappearing into the crowd.

Many of the shopkeepers here look weird and the possibility of me finding answers here begins to dim. I don’t like being in this congested crowd with many strange people so I go through a space between the shops to escape. In this space, I find a discarded torso. Dolls can’t live without torsos so this can’t be something that was sold on the market. Perhaps this is…maybe…a dead body? I poke the body and it surprisingly comes to life when touched.

“Woah! Are you okay?” I ask it.

The torso writhes around as its stubs for arms beat its chest until it opens and tries to get my attention to it. Inside is a letter that reads, “If you found me and this letter, then please bring me to the building with the golden horse on it. There I will reward you with whatever body pieces that you want”.

I could use some legs. Though my parents were eventually going to get me a pair at my request, they never thought it necessary. Wait.

“How can you hear what I say despite not having a head? Do you have ears somewhere else on your body?”

The torso bows forward as it points at the paper. Unfolding the paper further reveals more writing that says, “If you’re wondering how I can hear you despite not having ears, then that is a gift I can give you where you are taking me and more if you are interested”. More if I’m interested? Is this an elaborate setup to join a group? It probably is given the people that reside here, but I must know how they think so I can discover myself. A pair of legs would also be nice. It’s going to be difficult to take this person anywhere as I am, so I find a nearby piece of rope that was probably left there on purpose and tie them to my back. That was I can walk with my arms to the building with a golden horse on it.

This appears to be a restaurant that’s called literally the Golden Horse. People also trade and sell doll pieces here as they can come out looking completely different when exiting a room. I bring the torso to a greeter who thanks me for bringing him to her.

“He is always getting into trouble to bring new customers to us. What would you like as your reward for saving him?” she says.

“I’d like a pair of legs, please,” I answer.

“What kind would you like? Strong, durable ones to defend yourself with or ones that would attract the attention of a boy you like?”

“Just a pair of normal legs.”

“Ah, I see! Sometimes the simplest designs are the best. It goes well with your look. I’ll get a good pair of legs for you right away.”

The greeter brings me a pair of legs that already have a black pair of flat shoes. Walking around takes a bit to get used to and a fall on my face a bit before finally getting a grip on it.

“They fit you perfectly,” the greeter says.

“You think so?” I ask.

“Yes, I do.”

Before I know it, a large skinny man comes into the room. He dresses in a golden suit and pants that have flowery patterns in them. His face looks more feminine than masculine because of the makeup on it, which gives me an uneasy feeling.

“So, this is my savior. My name is Ascolto e là. What’s your name?” the man says in a voice that sounds feminine.

“Renata.”

“Thank you for saving me, Renata. You deserve more than a simple pair of legs for such a great deed.”

“What are you offering?”

“Besides, an entirely new body if you wish, I offer you a home here. You’re obviously not from around this area. I would know if you were.”

“Why a home?”

“I offer a home for all the brave souls who wish to make a name for themselves.”

“How do I make a name for myself?”

“By making it yourself through whatever means you deem necessary. We define success for ourselves, what limits we’ll go to achieve our dreams, and use whatever excuses we have to justify our actions with people who disagree with them. If you want to be a tiger, I can give you the head and limbs of one. If you want to be a queen, then we can pull some strings and you can make your own kingdom. You, young lady, do not bow down to anyone or follow anyone’s rules either than your own. All rules are written by dolls, after all, so who’s to tell us what’s right or wrong either than ourselves?”

Who gave you the right to play the Creator? I’m sure that if we all define our own rules then chaos will reign since everything can be evil or good depending on our personal definition. In fact, evil and good will be meaningless for the very same reason.

Ascolto intensely looks at me as if expecting some kind of response with the same kind of energy he gave so I tell him, “If that’s true, then I’ll find success on my own.” I shouldn’t have said ‘if that’s true’. He doesn’t seem to approve of that. “I want to experience the rest of this area of the factory has to offer before I make my decision of accepting your help.”

What I said doesn’t seem to please Ascolto as he gives me an unsettling smile before saying, “I understand. It’s actually a smart decision to take a look at what life has to offer before making a life defining choice, so I’ll let you go and eagerly await your return.”

“Oh, okay. Before I go, can you tell me how you were able to hear me despite not having any ears when you were just a torso?”

“That’s a secret you’ll learn only if you accept my offer. A secret that’s closed off to you for now.”

It’ll have to be closed forever since I’m not interested in joining. I leave the Golden Horse and make my way deeper into the market. Dolls continue to try to sell me doll pieces and to get to join their organization or cause while also arguing with each other to draw people to their side. For some reason, I feel like I’m being followed. I’m not sure if it’s the salespeople or the ones who are selling their self-professed ideologies, but I keep seeing the same faces pop up in the crowd so something is up. To make sure they aren’t coincidentally going in the same direction as I am, I make erratic turns, go down alleyways, and go through densely crowded areas to lose them. Still, I see their faces peering through the crowd.

“Follow me if you want to escape them,” I hear someone say before turning around to see a doll with a featureless face.

This featureless doll fades into the crowd and beckons me to follow them. Since this seems like my only option to escape my pursuers, I follow them until they lead me to a dead end. Is this part of their plan to save me or was it just another trap? My pursuers follow me into the dead end where the passersby don’t seem to care that I’m being cornered. I get a clearer look at my pursuers who are dolls with bug-like wings and faces. Soon, people from the crowd take them in and make them disappear. The same featureless doll comes out from the crowd and approaches me.

“You won’t have to worry about them following you anymore,” the doll says in a voice that sounds like a man’s and female’s just like Ascolto’s except distorted.

“Who are you?” I ask them.

“I am nothing. We are nothing.”

“Why did you help me?”

“Because Ascolto was going putting you in danger with his own minions so that you would run to him for help. Let me guess, you already found him or one of his friends as a torso or in cut up pieces?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Figures. You should either join the Nothing or leave this area of the factory.”

“What are the Nothing?”

“We are. All dolls are nothing to be more general, but we are the Nothing to be specific. We remind everyone that everything is meaningless until we give it meaning. Ascolto tries to convince everyone he meets that we make our own meaning and value, but this isn’t true. Everyone is equal and no greater than the other because we are all nothing and all our actions will be all for nothing. One day, this factory will collapse on and kill us all.”

So, you’re another group like Ascolto’s except depressing.

“I’ll be leaving this area of the factory then.”

“You won’t join us?”

“No, because it won’t be worth it in the end, right?”

“You’re right, but it’s a good way to pass the time. I won’t keep waste your time any longer. Do as you wish.”

The doll disappears back into the crowd. Well, this didn’t feel like it was worth it. As I make my way out of this area of the factory, I don’t see anything new or worth checking out. All I’ve learned is that there are people who view themselves too highly and others who don’t value themselves at all. Both are prideful of their so-called truths and both think themselves better than the other despite their way of thinking not mattering according to their own ideals. We are indeed free to decide our beliefs but we do not have the right to decide what is true and what isn’t based on our ideas and nothing is meaningless. I find the nearest gears so they can take me out of here. At this point, nothing can be worse than this.

How to Build Yourself: Prologue – Looking for the Instruction Manuel

Prologue – Looking for the Instruction Manuel

Who am I? I know for sure that my name is Renata, that my family and friends love me, and that I’m good at designing and making tools for dolls like myself, but what is my true purpose in life beyond this? What is the meaning in every action I make? What is the end goal? What is the purpose of it all if someone is going to take my place after I am gone?

When I asked my parents about it, they told me about the Doll Factory Creator and the instructions he gave for all dolls to follow. My parents say they follow the rules, but I don’t even have the legs that the doll manual says that I was meant to have. Very few follow the rules and even fewer know what the rules exactly are or even care what they are. I’m designed just like all the other young dolls with an arm made of gears to keep the machines in the factory moving and a strong metal arm to carry heavy objects and cut materials. I guess I don’t need legs because I can walk on my two arms like the others, but I can also climb walls and ceilings since my arm can cut into the wall and my gears are as sharp as a saw blade that can also cut into things. Many gears run throughout the factory that I can put my gear arm into for easy transport.

These tools don’t feel natural to me although I need these every day. I look to my parents for inspiration for what I should do and find little direction that feels satisfying. My father is an innovator and toolmaker. He’s always looking forward to the good future that his tools could create and how easier our lives can be with them. I look up to him for his work ethic, but I wish he would be home more and wouldn’t work himself to sickness every now and then.

My mother, on the other hand, sees goodness, truth, and purpose in everything. It’s why she put so many eyes on her face, so she can see it all. She’s content in making dresses, tuxedos, and other fancy clothes for dolls. People say that I have her hair and her capacity to see good in everything while they also say that I have my father’s eyes, smile, and forward thinking attitude. I’m going to combine these attitudes to search the factory for my true purpose and I’m going to look for it everywhere I can. After getting my parent’s permission to take off for a week, I begin my search. Starting with my hometown, I see many in this town built within this factory who are content with doing the same things daily and carrying the same general traditions as their parents.

I put my gear arm into the gears above and ride the path to get to a vantage point near a window that will give me a view of the entire area. These windows are a curious thing. It’s either too bright or dark outside to see. The windows can’t be broken and there’s no record of a door that leads outside. This leads many to believe that the outside world where the Doll Creator is said to go is nonexistent or unreachable by normal means. Nobody has seen the Creator and the only hint of his appearance is our own since it is said that we are made in his image and his love. How can a Creator love his creation if he’s seemingly never around? His existence could be self-evident because of the factory’s creation, how it works, and everything in it or it could be explained by so-called natural phenomena though I’m not sure how that could be possible given that nature follows rules like how a child implies the existence of their parent, so I believe in his existence.

Though I may have to speak to people who don’t believe, I will find the truth behind the factory and myself. I take one last look at my home, the churches, schools, the bustling marketplace where people buy doll parts to fit their lifestyle more than food and water, and the traffic of dolls that live the lives they choose to accept. For now, the life of looking for my purpose is the one I choose to walk. Maybe I’m wasting my time and I’m just meant to be what my parents say, but I know there’s more. Even if I have to change my entire lifestyle, everything I believe, and the way I look, I will find the answers to how I should live.

My latest gross out horror short story is out today!

Download for free on Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1105682

In a world where food, water, and a good living are hard to come by, most struggle to even keep the skin on their bodies as is man's punishment for playing god. Siegfried is another fool among many who try to find happiness in a world by going from sin to sin while making as many excuses for his actions along the way as this story follows his life through this decrepit and sin-filled world.

Will he ever be truly happy in the flesh or is happiness something more than a feeling and way of life?

Skin Like Rags: Chapter 2 – Bleeding the Flesh, Purging the Sin

Chapter 2 – Bleeding the Flesh, Purging the Sin

Huh? I’m alive? Where am I? I landed in some ghetto. What broke my fall was a bunch of soft rotting mattresses and other trash with maybe a body or two under there since I’m hearing muffled noises from underneath it all. I’ve heard about places likes this and was never keen on finding it out if it was real. In the darkness of the town is this trash heap that people call home. Here you can find the true outcasts of society some are too good for it while others are too evil. Either way, they both suffer the same fate.

People sell custom skins, themselves, and their own flesh to get by here while very few try to work honest jobs like cleaning to get by. Still, the immense suffering that people in the light experience is amplified here and I’m sure that even the most virtuous people here become just as sinful as the others or at least are tested in their faith until their death, which shouldn’t be too far considering the living conditions here. I’m not exactly sure how people here can obtain food and water when the town doesn’t supply it and merchants probably don’t want to do business in a dump like this especially since it can be more dangerous. Speaking about danger, I can feel eyes watching me. It doesn’t help that I can hardly see down here, so I try to find an exit as faster as I can. Before I know it, I’m taken aside by someone in the darkness with a hand over my mouth.

“Quiet, I’m here to help. It’s not safe to be here. Follow me,” the man says in a quiet voice.

Since I have no better choice, I follow him while whispering, “Why are you helping me?”

“You’ve done a great service to us and to yourself by repenting of your past life.”

“You know what I’ve done?”

“Not exactly, but we know the people who were chasing you and they only chase their own. Worry not because you’ve shown us that you’re willing to put the past behind you.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“A place that’s safe from the slaves of the flesh.”

This sounds promising. If they know about the people who were chasing me, who are they? I guess I’ll find my answer soon enough. The two of us crawl through a series of tunnels until we’re finally out of the underground and back on the surface. We’re further from the town than I thought we’d be. On these outskirts, we might as well be underground since we’re far from civilization and any form of law enforcement. The townspeople here have to fend for themselves and it isn’t uncommon for the defenders to become creditors who defend for a price and require praise for their efforts.

Going into the far off settlement I find very few people with any skin on them. In fact, more people are burning skin than wearing it. People pray openly in the streets and things seem more peaceful here despite the clear poverty and burning of skin. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for me here. Perhaps I will be as happy as everyone else here.

“We’re here,” my escort says as we approach a church that appears that it was constructed with scraps of different buildings.

Nevertheless, the exterior and interior are like the cathedrals that I’ve heard about in stories with abstract art of the afterlife, hell, and fearsome angels. People worship here in silence while some bleed and bruise themselves in penance for the sins of the world.

“Welcome here where you can live freely,” a priest says.

This priest doesn’t have any skin on him like the rest. He doesn’t even seem to have any kind of flesh in certain parts of his body as he appears to be completely skeletal in some places.

“Hello, my name is Siegfried. I’m so glad that you brought me here. After what happened, I thought I wouldn’t have long to live.”

“We should be the ones thanking you. You’ve drawn two of our enemies here that we interrogated to get valuable information that we can use against them.”

“You’re welcome, but you don’t want me to draw more here, do you?”

“Not at all since they know you’re a traitor and dead. The most important thing you can do now is to devote yourself to a life of prayer and penance. These are more important than any worldly effort since our true enemy is fought on the spiritual level. Help us and you will be given food, water, shelter, and friends to give you strength as we make reparations for all the evils of the world.”

“Well, life is suffering so I might as well embrace it. You have a deal.”

“I am overjoyed to hear that! So many souls are lost in this world, but you have come home.”

A meager feast of whatever the church can put together is held at the church before they go back to their penances and let me rest for today for tomorrow’s penances. Even here in the night, I can hear screams echo. I guess it makes sense given my location and the fact that I’ve heard screams and sounds of violence back where I used to live. In the morning I am given instructions on different prayers and acts of penance to do throughout the day. They’re nothing too hard to handle. The most challenging of them is the lashing of my back. I used to be whipped and beaten before, but that was actually easier to bear since I had skin. Now it’s more painful to do. On the other hand, at least I’m suffering this for a better reason.

Day in and day out I do the same things until one day I see people faltering in their duties. The priests and other faithful condemn them for their perceived weakness saying things such as, “If you had been more devoted in prayer, then you wouldn’t be failing.”

“Give them pain that they can use to lift themselves up from their failure,” one of them says as they give me a whip.

Since it seems that I’m expected to do this, I whip the failing faithful as asked. These failing faithful appear to be thankful for the pain that I’m giving them, which reminds me of what I used to do except they don’t disguise the pain as pleasure. Time continues on and the weight of my penances gets me sick, and yet, I am still expected to fast and recover without any kind of medicine or something to numb the pain. Eventually, the pain gets to me and I have to stay and rest for the day. The priests and other penitential faithful berate me for resting and some are even allowed to beat me for it so I can make up for the penances that I don’t do.

I try to say, “I’m offering the pain I’m feeling in place of my penance.”

However, they hardly accept the excuse. When I get better, I have to do more prayers and penance to make up for what I’ve missed. To go around this, I’m offered to go out and hurt our enemies, the worshippers of the flesh. This honestly sounds like a good idea since I’ve been wanting to do something different that will have a more visible impact. Don’t get me wrong, prayer and penance have given me a sense of interior peace and self-worth, but I feel that I should be doing more.

I go out with the man who saved me to a location where a convoy of flesh worshippers are transporting a shipment of custom skins, real skin, and skin growth products. To stop this convoy, a few of the devoted throw themselves in front of it and die in the process. Their sacrifice causes the convoy to crash and injure everyone in the process and makes this an easy job. While going through the skins and skincare products I find something that I shouldn’t be surprised to find and that is a herd of skin growers. Skin growers are slaves that are used by worshippers of the flesh as fertile ground to grow their custom skin suits. I remember this because I was one for a short time. It wasn’t a pleasant experience constantly being skinned for cannibals and degenerates who have a fetish for cutting people.

Cheap custom skin suits are made with various kinds of material like leather and animal skins, but the real expensive convincing ones are made from real people. They are fed skincare products that contain ingredients such as walnuts, peppers, ingredients from oily fishes, and other things that grow skin on a person’s body while making it healthy before being painfully skinned. This is their lives and a person may be skinned at least three times a week. I try to free these people from the ropes and chains binding them, but I’m stopped before the shrouded wagon containing them is set ablaze.

“What did you do that for?!” I ask the person who did it.

“These degenerates allowed themselves to be enslaved, skinned, and used for perverted purposes.”

“They were slaves. They could hardly do anything.”

“You were a slave too, but you managed to escape.”

“I barely managed to escape.”

“And yet you did. You were wise enough to know that death is preferable to being a slave to your passions. These people didn’t do that and chose to subject themselves to the perversions of others. If they died while escaping or at least resisting, then I could say that they died honorably, but now they will suffer flames worse than this in the afterlife because of their decision not to do anything.”

There’s no convincing this person of what I think and it’s way past too late to save the slaves. From here on, I take better notice of the faults of these penitential people. The prisoners that we take from this ambush and the other ones were taken by other people are beaten to near death, mocked, spit on, and yelled at before they are healed and put through it all over again until the prisoners either die or repent and become one of us. This in addition to certain members being given special days off while the rest of us aren’t gives me the feeling that I should leave and perhaps join another group like this one. What makes me make plans to leave is the realization is that these people are proud of their humility and virtue.

They get off to this like the worshippers of the flesh in what might as well be a lewd way. In our meetings and short times of rest, we all tell each other how virtuous we are when we share the things we’ve done and the pain we’ve gone through. The one who suffered and gave the most is praised by everyone and is allowed to skip on whatever penances they want while being immune to any form of criticism for whatever sins of sloth or gluttony they may commit. It then occurs to me that these people are kind of like the people they hate except these people please themselves by telling themselves how good they are while doing things that may be viewed as good. No, wait. These people are exactly like their enemies except they sin differently.

Because of this, I leave in the middle of the night with nothing on me. The cover of the ebony moon that dulls most light should cover my exit. There has to be some place I can live where it’s at least somewhat tolerable. While I exit this place, I feel as if someone is watching me and the random sounds I hear don’t make it any better.

“If you leave, don’t bother coming back,” I hear whispered in my ear.

I don’t bother to turn around and just run in the direction I was heading and leave the town as I wander a dead forest filled with rotting trees and insects that feast on their carcasses. Where am I even going? Where should I go? My life has not changed ever since I decided to make a drastic change in it. No, it’s gotten worse. Everything I’ve done has been for nothing. Everything I do has turned against me. I guess it makes sense since I’m an idiot among idiots or rather the most idiotic person in the world. Nothing I do is good and nothing I will do will make up for my pathetic existence.

What’s happening now? I must be hallucinating or the ghosts from the past are back for revenge. In the distance, I can see what looks to be my wife and with my two infant children strapped to her back with cloth. Are they really there? I’m not sure what’s scarier. Them being there or me hallucinating. I think it would be them being there especially after what I’ve done to them.

“Siegfried! Siegfried!” I hear my wife call out as she runs towards me.

It really is them. Fear freezes me like two invisible angels holding my feet down so I can stand before my wife’s judgment. When she approaches me, she embraces me before giving me a kiss.

“Siegfried, I’m so glad that we finally managed to find you. We’ve been looking everywhere for you! Why did you leave us?”

I clench my fists as I muster up an answer. There’s no use hiding it anymore.

“I’m not worth your love after what I did.”

“What do you mean? You saved us from the fire that engulfed our home. You’re our hero-”

“I’m the one who started the fire!”

“What?”

“I couldn’t bear to watch my family suffer this reality anymore. At first, I was going to cut your throats while you slept to make it quick and easy, but then I couldn’t go through with it. I even thought I was going to cut my own throat. Then, I decided to burn the house down with you in it.”

“You saved us from the fire.”

“That doesn’t make up for the fact that I started it. I thought you died due to the smoke because you nor our children were waking up. I…I was also afraid of confessing what I’ve done, and…I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much and that I’ve taken away the little that we had through my actions. Please, just leave me. I’m not someone you can be proud of saying that you married and had a family with. Please, for your own sake and the sake of our children.”

I walk away from my wife only to be pulled back into her arms.

“You are the one that I said that I would be married to forever. You are the one that I said that I love forever, and that’s not going to change because of what you did. It doesn’t matter that we no longer have a house or any kind of life because we have each other and that’s all that matters. Together, we can start again somewhere else. It doesn’t matter how hard it may be. I trust that we can make it through anything because of the love we share.”

“I’m not worth it.”

“Of course you are. You apologized to me and I forgive you.”

I can do nothing now except cry. My wife’s seemingly unending capacity for forgiveness is astounding. Her faith is what has kept our family going and is what’s bringing me back to her. Perhaps now, I will actually practice her faith with her so I can be the husband that she deserves.

“Th-thank you. I promise to be a better man for you,” I say.

“I know you will be,” she answers back that almost makes me cry again.

“Where should we head to now?”

“Maybe we should make our living here or in the farmlands. I’ve heard that it’s not as hostile as the towns.”

“The farmlands suffer constant droughts, famine, and attacks from wild beasts.”

“That’s better than what we had where we were before.”

“Ah, you’re right. Let’s try it.”

I take my wife’s hand, kiss her, and kiss my children before we head out. It may be difficult and even unbearably so to live, but it’s worth it. My wife reminds me that we shouldn’t live to make ourselves happy nor to center our beliefs on what makes us happy. Instead, we should live for truth and love even if it makes us feel miserable because in the end living and suffering for real love and truth is its own reward.

The End

Skin Like Rags: Chapter 1 – Corpses Worn Like Crowns

Chapter 1 – Corpses Worn Like Crowns

When humanity chose to shed its true nature to play god, they also paid the price by shedding their skin. Now, the more skin they wear, the more they are tempted to do evil. I am among many of these sinners and may be the worst. Siegfried is my name and a curse it may be if people knew my misdeeds. Even so, I still suffer despite my many honest confessions and acts of penance. There’s no reason I should try anymore. Everything that I’ve lived for has been burned away to ash, and with it, my reasons for living. I could’ve done something, but I was too weak to do anything but walk away.

It's not like I had a chance anyway. I was working in a place that actively hurt me for a meager wage that was hardly worth it, to say the least. Puppeteers and masters play with power like children. They thrive on the business of skincare and the illegal practice of wearing other skins than their own. On the other hand, the poor can be no different in taking advantage of their own to make their own lives a bit more bearable. Who is truly good in this world where the truth doesn’t matter and love has a price and debt to go along with it?

For these reasons, I will try to fit in with those who focus their lives on the flesh. I might as well try to enjoy myself as much as I can. It doesn’t matter if I enjoy myself in the right or wrong way. All I want is to live a happy life and to feel good living it. After letting myself be debased and sacrificing much of my skin to get into exclusive places where those in power “relax”, I finally manage to see the luxuries that they enjoy, except these luxuries are something more than even I can handle.

People dress in the skins of other people and even animals to enact their fetishes upon willing and unwilling people. I knew that those who could afford to make fake skin suits and those who stole other people’s skins used them for selfish purposes, but I didn’t imagine that the rumors about them would be true. Here I see a neighbor I thought I wouldn’t see again. She wanted her son to be like the boy next door to her. Her son struggled in school, wasn’t well liked, and wasn’t as handsome according to her. To remedy this, she took the skin off the other boy and forced her son to wear it. I don’t know what happened after, but I do know the boy killed himself because of his mother’s abuse and his mother disowning him for another. Apparently, she has deep connections and was able to get out of prison only after a year.

This may sound silly, but this is not the most surprising sight. No, the most surprising thing to see here is clothes. People struggle to get even the simplest of patches of skin on their body and these people are wearing clothes. Fine dresses, underwear, pants, shirts, and the like of various kinds adorn their bodies. To put this ridiculousness in perspective, the skin of some of the most powerful people in the world is just as valuable as a simple shirt and pants because clothes show high status. For some reason, this pushes me over the edge. Despite all the depravity around me, despite me debasing myself so I could have my own custom skinsuit, I feel that this is too much. I have always been a foolish man and as I look at myself in a gold plated mirror, I see a handsome, stronger man, but that is not me.

I cut off my fake skin suit and throw it to flesh craving slaves. Sure, I could’ve sold it or worn it until I got out to not draw attention to myself, but I couldn’t stand to live in that fake skin any longer. While I try to leave in the chaos, several people approach me. These wear the more expensive skin suits such as those of animals and important figures with some even wearing clothes.

“Where are you going, Siegfried?” a man says as he jumps in front of me. He startles me because of the goatskin and head that he wears.

“Yes, where are you going? We were going to have so much fun together,” his wife says from behind me. His wife is cloaked in a lion’s skin and wears a lion’s head.

“I’m…walking out for fresh air,” I lie.

“Is the smell of Heaven too strong for you? It’s not like this smell is completely unfamiliar to you since it’s only a stronger one compared to what you’re used to.”

They have me caught. In my desperation to get out of here, I stab the man in front of me in the throat with the knife I used to cut off my skin then throw him to his wife before saying, “The goat is dead!”

This attracts the attention of many who begin to fight over his corpse. Many are trampled and killed while fighting over the animal’s skin as I manage to escape the scene and the underground building. I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy to see the blood orange sun in the sky today.

“Where did he go?” I hear someone say from behind me.

“Check the perimeter while we check inside. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

Seeing as I’m still being chased, I try to lose my pursuers by going through the crowds of the town I’m in. Going through the crowds reminds me of the life I left behind. The struggling families and the homeless people begging for skin are sights that I don’t see changing any time soon. There’s no way for me to go back to that life. In fact, it’ll be a worse life if I do. What was I thinking when I chose to do this? These distracting thoughts make me take a path through the town that leads me to the edge of a cliff. Here, there is no escape and my pursuers catch up to me.

“If you come back with us, you’ll be welcomed back with a newly made skin after you suffer for your actions, of course,” one of them says.

“The suffering will be pleasurable and your rewards will be what was promised. A seat at our table, pleasures and wealth beyond your imagination, a wife or husband of your choosing, and power in the world behind the veil of our secrecy.”

Hearing this all is very tempting even though I have no skin on my body, and yet, I feel free enough to make a decision. Funnily enough, I feel freer than I’ve felt in a while. These people of the flesh say what they offer is freedom and happiness, but I’ve been constrained by them. Their dogma of the flesh made me a slave to their passions and my own as we sook pleasure at the cost of others and ourselves. With my choices laid before me, I choose death. I jump off the cliff and into the deep dark unknown and giving myself to the judgment of fate.

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All Adela ever wanted to do was to be a simple gardener, but with the way the world is, she'll find that to be a nearly impossible goal. One day, a snake in her garden tells her that she can make the world a more welcoming place for people like her. She will have to sacrifice her tongue and do some nefarious things for this to happen but are her actions just because she gets good results?

Self-Ascension: Chapter 3 – Wings of Wax

Chapter 3 – Wings of Wax

A few months have passed and progressive appears steady but feels stagnant.

“If you wish to join us, you must prove what you are willing to do everything that the weak willed cannot,” Adela says.

“Bu-but am I worthy enough?” the man asks.

“Yes, you are.”

The man puts the chewed grapes from his mouth into Adela’s mouth as if the two were lovers passionately kissing. Veritas burrows itself into the man’s throat and eats his heart. Adela then spits at the man’s corpse.

“Traitors like you don’t deserve redemption.”

Adela wipes her mouth then walks out of the room and back into the party where Doloro awaits her in a dressy outfit that hides the scars of his penance so well that you thought that he’d given them up. Guards go into the room that she was in to clean up the mess and make it look like nothing happened.

“Is it done?” Doloro asks.

“Why wouldn’t it be? I just wish we had fewer traitors in our ranks.”

“That’s what happens when you give them seats in high places. Not everyone who says they pledge loyalty to the noble snakes is honest. In any case, it’s not worth worrying over a problem we should leave to the snakes. Enjoy the rest of the party.”

“You should more than I because of the penances you do.”

“I haven’t been doing as many since I was given so many luxuries.”

“You still smell like sweat and blood still.”

“It’s a natural odor that the ladies find attractive. It’s a sign of a hardworking man.”

“Haha, if you say so.”

Going into a dressing room, Adela fixes her golden makeup and looks at herself in the mirror. The girl she once was is seemingly gone as her once brown hair is now dyed gold, her once plain hairstyle is now pigtails with what seem to be horns in the center, makeup obscures any signs of stress, her skin has become pale, and she dresses like nobility unlike the simple gardener that she was.

“Why do we always have to exchange one problem for another? Give to one cause, put another on the side. Give some people a second chance, deny it for others. Relax for one month, work without rest for an entire week.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Adela. This is the way of the world. It’s a game of inches. There are moments of great victory and there are moments of utter defeat. What matters to that you stay true to yourself,” Veritas says.

“Or at least the me that you want me to be. I don’t feel worthy of being the one who’s the voice of our movement in this part of the country.”

“Every hero and saint didn’t think much of themselves before they were recognized for their great deeds. If they did, they wouldn’t be icons that people look up to. Think about that when I put on our next act.”

 After fixing herself up, Adela exits the room and goes up to the front of the room.

“And here is the voice of Veritas, the honorable and elegant Adela,” an announcer says as a spotlight shines on Adela and she is given a microphone.

“Thank you. Friends and family, we are the shepherds of society. Without our guidance, without the goodness and truth we bring to the world, it would be a dark place. Remember to be humble and remember that you are servants of everyone around you. Remember also to be realistic. You are modern heroes and icons. Both fictional and non-fictional stories will be written about us if we keep our current course and listen to the noble snakes. Stay true to yourself and thank you for everything you’ve done. We wouldn’t be here without you.”

The party claps and cheers for one another and for Adela especially her parents that proudly acknowledge her as their daughter. She is encouraged to relax at the party, but she would rather relax somewhere else in her own way, so she leaves the party and goes home. This home of hers is a new one bought by her actions and one that she lives in by herself. It’s a fairly large house with an even larger garden in the back. After dismissing the gardeners, she inspects their work to see that they’ve been keeping the garden healthy.

She begins to tend to it until Veritas tells her that, “You must get your rest. You have all weekend to play with your garden.”

“You said that last week and two weeks before that. I hardly get to do what I want anymore despite having excuses to do it,” Adela points out.

“But at least you have the chance. That’s more than what most people can do. Get your rest and you’ll have the whole day for yourself. When have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Okay, fine. I am exhausted after all.”

“Good.”

Adela rests in her luxurious bed and wakes up the next morning. She immediately gets dressed up in gardening attire and is about to get to work until she hears someone ring her doorbell. Going to answer it, she finds Doloro at her door who appears to be in a panic.

“Doloro? Why are you here so early without calling me first? What’s wrong?” Adela asks.

“It’s my parents. They died late last night. All that penance I did and all the money I spent for their medical treatments hardly extended their lives,” Doloro says.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Come in and rest.”

Doloro enters Adela’s house and paces back and forth while saying, “There is no time to rest. I talked to a spiritualist who told me that they would go to Hell. Veritas is the noble snake of truth and I was hoping he would know how I could prevent this.”

“You have the answer. You probably already know it. You’ve lived a life of self-sacrifice and it only makes sense that it ends that way. Sacrifice your life for your parents. Go to Hell for them and they will be saved.”

Adela struggles to speak after what Veritas has spoken through her.

“I felt that was the answer. I was named after what my parents thought I was, so it makes sense that I live and die in pain, but are you sure? Can you further consult Veritas on this?”

“Veritas has told me this through the connection we have. It is the only way to save their souls. Think of it. A true hero, no, a true faithful son would do anything to save the souls of his parents even at the cost of his own.”

“I wish it wasn’t like this.”

“You spent your entire life doing penance for people like them and now you have a definitive answer to save your parent’s souls from eternal pain. Didn’t you suffer for them so they wouldn’t go to Hell?”

“I did, but I never saw them change their ways. Not once. Still, you’re right.”

Doloro takes one of the nails out of his skin and is about to shove it into his throat. Adela desperately tries to talk but is unable to. Instead, she grabs his hands to try to prevent him from killing himself. At the same time, he struggles to go through with it.

“Heh, despite all the pain I put myself through, I can’t do this. Maybe I’m being too hasty. I’m sorry you have to see this,” Doloro says.

“It’s okay. Let me help you.”

Veritas uses itself to push Adela’s hands forward so that Doloro can stab his nail into his throat. Even then, he struggles to die as he chokes on his own blood. Adela begins to panic as she continues to hold Doloro’s hands unsure of what to do.

“I’m sorry,” Adela manages to say before Veritas strikes through Doloro’s head with itself to end his suffering.

For the first time in a while, Adela feels sick and almost pukes as she tries to hold back her tears.

“You should be used to gore going into your mouth,” Veritas points out.

“But not the gore of a friend,” Adela says.

“You two were hardly friends. More like business partners. I spoke to him more than you did.”

“But he was still a friend. The only one I got to know anything about. Was it sacrifice worth it?”

“His parents are in Heaven while he is in Hell.”

Not sure whether to say it’s good or not, Adela gets her servants to take Doloro’s body and start making funeral arrangements. She is not versed in spiritual and religious ideas so she accepts Veritas’ knowledge of what happened to Doloro’s soul and the souls of his parents. Because of what happened, she loses the will to do any gardening and just lets her servants massage her and comfort her with words to lessen the pain of her sadness. News then comes to her of more traitors within the ranks of those dedicated to the noble snakes.

“You must go and deal with this traitor,” Veritas says.

“Why should I? I’ve done enough. Inspired enough people with my voice or rather your voice. Get someone else to do it while I rest,” Adela responds in a tired voice.

“What would Doloro want you to do? He stayed true to himself and died a hero. An example that people will live by for ages to come.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll go.”

Adela heads out to where the traitors are to find that they’re in a similarly large house like hers that was gifted to them. There’s a wedding party happening at the house with many families and friends of the traitors there celebrating the occasion. When Adela approaches the doors, no one thinks anything about it. Not even the traitors.

“Punish the families of the traitors,” Veritas whispers.

“Why? Do you know if they’re working with the traitors or unaware of their crimes? What are even the crimes that the traitors committed?” Adela asks quietly.

“What they did doesn’t matter because what the noble snakes like I command is always right. You don’t even need to bloody your hands. Go near the food and drink and I will do the rest.”

“Fine.”

Going up to the various buffets, Adela gets close enough to them so that Veritas can touch them with its fangs. Various guests eat and drink what Veritas touched and don’t seem to be affected by what it did at all.

“Is your plan going to work?” Adela whispers to Veritas.

“Yes, give it some time. Enjoy the party while you’re here but remember to not eat or drink anything that I touched.”

Seeing as there’s nothing better to do, Adela walks around the party while trying not to get involved with anyone since they will soon be dead. The religious paintings and statues get Adela’s attention with a particular statue of a woman grabbing her attention. This woman is clothed with the sun, has the moon and a snake underneath her feet, and is crowned with twelve stars. Underneath the statue are the words, “The Immaculate”. Its gaze matches Adela as it appears to almost be talking to her but is hardly audible. However, she still hears a message in her heart that’s clearer now than before. “Stop this. Walk away from it. Do not trust the snake”. Veritas tries waking her up from listening to the voice and has to bite the inside of Adela’s mouth to wake her up.

“Adela!” Veritas says.

“Wha-what?”

“Do you see this religion that these traitors worship? They are enemies of the noble snakes.”

“Don’t we accept all religions and beliefs?”

“We accept them all no matter how contradictory they are to us, but this one is particularly against us and must be punished for it. Speaking of punishments, the show is about to begin.”

The wife and husband make their speech to their families and friends. Once the speech is done, the bride begins to spit blood and collapses on the floor in a spasm.  The husband also dies shortly after except his blood spills out of his body until a dried husk is left. Everyone else who ate and drank dies in similar but variously painful methods of having all of their blood come out of their body in one manner or another. No one is spared. Not even the children or the infants in this slaughter, and when the reality of it finally hits Adela, she is horrified.

“Do not worry about it, Adela. Go back home and enjoyed a well-deserved rest. Your garden awaits,” Veritas says.

“Still…”

“Still what? You did the right thing. These traitors would have soured our cause. Turned good into evil if you hadn’t done anything.”

“And we do evil to do good? How does that make sense?”

“Because we are good. Everything that we do, even evil, produces something good. Do you not remember the people we inspire? The people we save from suicide and their mundane lives? We save people from their despair and make them hope in us.”

“No, you do not, liar,” a woman’s voice says.

Adela is shocked to hear someone’s voice after what happened and turns to see that the statue that she was fascinated by is alive.

Veritas is terrified of the woman and begs Adela, “Do not listen to this woman! She-”

“Silence, deceiver,” the woman says. Veritas is strangely silenced and is unable to say or do anything. “Do not trust that snake who is better fit to be stepped on than acknowledged. You are more false than the truth you claim to be.”

“Who are you?” Adela asks.

“I am the Immaculate, a mother to you who has been watching over you. I am here to save you from your evil ways before it is too late.”

“Evil? When have I ever done anything truly evil?”

“You just questioned yourself after this horrible deed that you’ve done, and I’m sure you questioned yourself every time something like this happened even when you were used to it.”

“Veritas did everything.”

“You let him do it through you. Is not a person who hires an assassin to do his dirty work not as guilty as the assassin?”

“I could say the same thing to you. Why have you taken so long to accuse me of my crimes?”

“Your conscience has been accusing you this entire time despite you trying to frame these atrocities as good.”

“I have made the lives of hundreds of people better! My family loves me now more than ever, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Since when does evil produce such good things?”

“It doesn’t, but it can fool you into thinking you are doing the right thing. Look around you. Look at the lovers who embraced each other until death. Look at the children with their blood spilling from their eyes and mouth. Have you made the lives of these people better? You have the blood of innocents on your hands and they scream out for justice. You cannot redefine evil because you think it is good. You cannot call yourself a hero when you act like a devil.”

Adela wrestles with what she knows to be true versus what she wants to be true.

“What would you have me do then?”

“Cut off Veritas from your tongue and put this life behind you.”

“You want me to do what?! If I do that, then I’ll lose the respect of everyone including my parents.”

“Would you rather do that or repeat what you’ve done today a hundred more times until you join your friend and his parents in Hell?”

“Doloro and his parents are in Hell…”

After giving it some thought, Adela takes a silver knife from the dining table and cuts off her own tongue. She writhes in pain for a short while before picking up her tongue and examines Veritas’ now rotting head. Turning back to the woman, she sees her leaving the house and pointing outside to a church in the distance. Assuming it's her next destination, Adela looks to the woman in a vain attempt to ask what it is only to see that she’s turned back into a statue. With nowhere else to go, Adela goes to this church to find that it’s an abbey of nuns. Outside of this church is the same statue of the woman with the title under it being “Church of the Immaculate Mother”. Going into it, a nun runs up to her in worry because of the blood on her.

“What happened to you? Are you okay?” the nun asks.

Adela shakes her head.

“Then you came to the right place. We have nurses here that can help you.”

The nuns help heal Adela’s tongue and give her some time to rest before asking her anything else.

“What’s your name? Here, write your answers here,” the nun says before handing Adela a notepad.

Adela writes her name.

“What a beautiful name. You look like that Adela girl I’ve seen on TV and in advertisements. Are you the same one?”

The nun’s question makes Adela hesitate to write before she eventually writes yes.

“Oh my. Sorry, I’m surprised you came here. Why is that by the way?”

Adela looks at the nun and writes that the Immaculate lead her here.

“Oh, if our Lady led you here, then it must be for a good reason. I mean no offense by this, but when I saw you on TV you were leading people astray with the cause that you were a part of. We’ve been praying for people like you and that our Lady would help you. It looks like our prayers were answered.”

Hearing this makes Adela write that she wants to repent and change her ways.

“I’m glad to hear it or see that I mean. Talk-or write to the priest your sins and we’ll see what you can do around here for your penance.”

Adela does as the nun instructs, receives absolution, then goes back to her to write to her what she did.

“That was your first confession? It’s better late than never for that. In fact, all nuns here confess their sins every week or two. You’re among repentant sinners like yourself and we welcome you to our humble home. Now, for your daily duties, you must tend the garden. Can you do that?”

This surprises Adela to hear as she excitingly shakes her head. The garden in the abbey is much like the one that she had in her old house except with statues of the Immaculate plus some other saints in it. Finally, Adela finds herself where she wanted to be. Even though the life of a nun isn’t what she wanted, it’s the one that is making her happy while also being the dream she wanted to live and in a setting where she can do some actual good rather than evil pretending to be good that she was doing before. Though the noble snakes continue their plots, Adela hopes and prays that the world will be better even if she doesn’t directly affect it, and if someone like her can change, then anyone can.

 

The End