This short chapter formally introduces one of the main protagonists of the story, Nessa. She’s definitely a supporting character for the first two acts, but is largely the focus of act three. She’s a fiery, determined, and intelligent character who was dealt an awful and unfair lot in life. She doesn’t like to play the victim, even when she is, however.
In other news, Chemistry has been going a lot better. Got over the initial hump I had in the first experiment. Cleaned it up before completing the entire second experiment in one go today! Additionally, the first project scores came back, and I got 100% which felt nice with a 70% class mean. Made up for my initial fumble in the course. The key, I think, is preparation. I ended up preparing my spreadsheets outside of lab, giving myself the entire period for data entry and experimental procedures. I have a class screening that’ll last a few hours in about 17 minutes, so I rushed a little bit on the edits today. Luckily the chapter is short, and only had a few mechanical issues (I used “women” three times when referring to a singular woman haha). It’s always the little stuff!
I’m planning on getting a lot of art out this weekend. Many of these chapters are meant to have specific covers, like a pseudo-graphic novel written in long-form. A lot of those drawings are really difficult and require planning (for instance if you read the 1st chapter, the shower hallucination where Silgan see’s his diseased wife in a parallel shower).
Enjoy the story!
Start at the beginning: https://bluebeard-art.com/2017/08/27/daily-blog-82717/
October 30th, 2021-Nessa
Nessa laughed, excitedly, as a tall, blonde woman tickled her belly and under-arms. “St..stop!” Nessa exclaimed.
Pausing momentarily, the woman raised her eyebrows, and asked, “I suppose that depends on what you’re going to do if I don’t? I mean, will I still get some cake?”
Quickly, Nessa shouted, “No cake for you! It’s my choco, all of it’s mine!”
“Well, if I don’t get cake either way, I guess I’ll have to take it from you by force!” responded the woman, tickling Nessa even more aggressively. Screaming, Nessa rolled forward, crawling between the woman’s legs, making a break for the cake. As Nessa ran, she looked over her left shoulder to see if the woman had followed. Nessa’s smile faded, the woman was gone. Slowing to a stop, Nessa turned, and called out, “Nanah! Where’d you go?”
The room grew darker, as a loud siren began blaring. The comforting wooden floor of her childhood home morphed into a stony, obsidian colored, surface. A sinister voice called from her left, “The rougher kids are waiting.” The walls broke with a crash and the siren grew louder. A hand, thrice Nessa’s size, crawled into the room from behind the broken wall to her left. Its movements were foreign, unpredictable, almost spiderlike. Nessa turned to run, screaming, except no air broke her lips. She was trapped, suffocating, alone. Again. The walls closed in around her as the thing crawled towards her. The hand was green, with reptilian scales lining the fingers, acting as inhuman joints. It twitched, convulsing, preparing to kill its prey, as the siren grew deafening. Then; darkness.
Nessa woke to the alarm with a start, breathing fast. She’d soaked her beddings in sweat again. Rolling to her left, she slammed the off switch with the bottom of her fist. Time to get to work. The room was dark, illuminated slightly by the blue Digitex on her night-sill that read 5:12 AM. She had a little under an hour before the rooms lights would be activated.
She’d grown accustom to moving quietly and effectively in the dark. If she made too much noise, she’d be punished. She’d learned this lesson the hard way, accidentally knocking her teapot off the center table one morning. Through trial and error, she’d internalized the relative locations of landmarks in the dark room. Sweeping aside the wet bed sheets, she swung her legs off the bed, getting up. They’d been mad, but Nessa knew if she was caught again, the punishment would significantly more severe. If they find it, they’ll kill me, or worse. They’d come close on a few occasions, beating her within an inch of life, and for much less than manufacturing a weapon.
Moving around the twin-sized bed to its foot, she kneeled, lifting the mattress. She grabbed the serrated chunk of metal she’d been working into a hook. Fashioned with care, from a large iron bolt she’d painstakingly wiggled free from the back of her night stand. Nessa felt the makeshift knives edges and grooves, sensed their malice, and grinned. The outside curve of the hook needed to be sharp enough to stab into a man’s abdomen. Then, all you had to do was twist until the inner hook dug into the surrounding tissue and pull. It’s almost done.
Standing, Nessa carefully tiptoed to her right. Five more steps. Blind, Nessa reached her left hand out, feeling for the small round table. Upon sensing the tables familiar texture, Nessa crouched, crawling under the table. Following the worn ridge, she felt the table-stand, slowly moving her hand down its length. The tattered wood suddenly became cold, unforgiving. The metal brace. She forced the rough hook against the damaged metal brace, sharpening the outer-edge, making sure to keep the blade even. It’s my turn to punish them.
Nessa fully understood that by using the blade on a customer, she’d be killed. I’m ready to die, if it means saving another woman from these cruel, twisted men.
Thanks for reading!
Next chapter: https://bluebeard-art.com/2017/09/08/daily-blog-9617/