You have been taken by the Mists

Author Topic: Michelle Anciaux - The Nature of Freedom  (Read 102 times)


  • Monstrous
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Michelle Anciaux - The Nature of Freedom
« on: January 22, 2021, 02:34:47 AM »



Michelle stared blankly ahead. She was in a richly appointed room, seated in a comfortably cushioned armchair. The rug beneath her feet was a vibrant shade of red, with turquoise stitching in strange looping whirls and spirals.

"Mademoiselle Anciaux-"


"Can't let anyone know-"

The room was lit by a roaring fireplace and a number of candles, but there were no windows. At the edges of the room, the shadows curled and towered, menacing, sinister. They were like trees in a dark forest, or a crowd pointing in accusation, or the buildings of an ancient and vast city, towering over her.

"The club-"

"The Club-"

"The transitive plane of Shadow-"

Michelle stared, blankly, dully. Before her was a canvas, but it was a doorway, too. A dark portal opening into a void beyond, from which the shadows in the room spilled forth. She stared into its depths.

"It's not your-"

"-be alright."

"-love you."

She's staring at herself now, as if she's a spectator to events. There she is, in the comfortable chair, on the luxurious rug, staring blankly forward. There she is, wrapped in chains. One about her neck, and five around her right arm and six about her left, and she counts again and there are more, and more, and more.

"Keep it a secret, alrigh-"

"Promise me-"

"You can't tell-"

For every chain, a shadowy figure. Recognizable to her all, each holding the end of a chain. They tugged, each of them towards themselves, pulling. Sometimes in sharp yanks, sometimes a constant, slow pressure, but always, always pulling.

"S-Sorry. I'm s-sorry. So sorry-" She watches herself mumble through apologies and explanations, still staring ahead at the canvas that was not a canvas. Not a word of protest or blame on anyone but herself. Not a single attempt to struggle against the chains that pulled tighter every moment. Even as her words turned to wheezes and gasps for air as the chains around her neck pulled tighter, even as her limbs were pulled to the breaking point, her only intelligible words were apologies.

She doesn't awaken for a long, long time.
Michelle Anciaux