Abandoned Asylum

Ragdoll

The door to the cell room slammed open as two guards and their captain stepped inside. The sudden sound caused shrieks and violent mumbling to filter through the cells of the startled patients, who remained hidden behind their barred windows. The guards' footsteps echoed in time with the cursing and wailing as they walked arm in arm with a flopping, rasping mass. It smeared a trail of crimson behind it as it dragged behind them, showing no desire to move of its own accord. The guards stopped as their captain paused in front of an empty cell and unlocked it. It swung open as he stepped aside for them, gesturing inside the cell.

"Get him in there!" he ordered.

The guards showed little hesitation as they threw the mass inside its new residence. A grotesque crunching noise could be heard as it made contact with the cell floor, lying in a mangled heap where it landed. The captain slammed the door behind it and looked back at his guards who were still standing at attention, though their eyes were flitting about nervously as they attempted to ignore the bloodstains on their sleeves.

The captain's eyes shifted from one guard to the other. The two guards knew this eenie-meenie tactic all too well, and they both hoped that the captain's glance wouldn't land on them indefinitely. The guard on the left wasn't so lucky. He felt his throat clear of all moisture as a silver key was held out to him.

"It's your turn to keep watch." the guard took the key from his captain, watching as the two exited the hall in self pity.

The guard began checking on each cell, finding that the panic didn't have time to set in when moving around. He passed the mass's door, only giving it a second's glance to prevent the burst of paralyzing fear from lingering any longer than it had to before he continued walking. The mass was now standing on its own in the center of its room. Its frame was bone-stiff and its head was cocked unnaturally to one side. Its eyes were near nonexistant in the lighting of its dimly-lit cell as it watched, patiently.

The guard passed by its door again, glanced at the window to see it was still the same, and continued on his way. The third round through the hall was the same, as was the fourth. The guard's insides had discontinued their churning by this point, and as he approached the window the fifth time around, his head turned to meet a bleeding, mutilated face as it grinned at him through its smeared window. The guard felt a scream rise in his throat as he ran down the hall in terror, slamming the door behind him.

Silence filled the now abandoned hall as a severed finger fell through the grate, landing on the other side of the cell door and splashing blood against the tile floor. Slowly, more body parts began to find their way out through the grate, rebuilding as the mass on the other side. It slid back into its rigid standing position, snapping its neck to the side with a loud CRACK.

Its charcoal eyes shifted to the door exited by the guard just moments before. Its mouth opened for the first time, emitting a rasp that could just barely be comprehended as intelligent speech.

"Ge-t....HIM....to keep...wa-TCH." His head snapped to the other side as he chastised their choice of such a pitiful excuse for a guard.




Mary O'Nette

"Patient number 9024, known to the outside world by the name 'Marionette.'" The doctor noted as he sat back in his chair. Sitting at the table across from him had been not one, but three individuals. Their glass eyes stared blankly at him as he spoke.

"It's pronounced 'Mary Oh-nay', Doctor." his assistant corrected him as she stood beside him and scribbled away at notes on her clipboard. The doctor's spectacles gleamed eerily in the brightly lit room. One would have thought of it as an interrogation if they had simply walked in with little understanding prior in doing so.

On the other side had been two small chairs. Seated in these chairs would seem to be two small children of the ages six to seven years old at a glance. Only after close observation would one notice the wooden texture of their skin.

Behind them sat a man in a larger chair. His eyes stared straight ahead despite his head being angled downward. His greasy auburn hair reflected a mild gleam from the light overhead. He was hunched over, the thin threading of what used to be a patient's uniform hung limp upon his thin frame. His only movements came from his hands as they moved about, pulling thin strings this way and that with his fingers. His hair just barely shielded the movement of his lips as they moved in time with the children's. The two were clutching onto each other in an innocent terror.

"...S-Sissy, I don't like it here, where are we?" the little wooden boy cried out.

"It's an interrogation room! But why? We didn't do anything!" her wooden expression shifted into a pout as her eyes glistened with a sort of helplessness.

"Um, doctor...do they have patient numbers?" asked the assistant, as she looked over at him in an attempt to hide her discomfort at the patient's eerie sort of lively lifelessness.

"It's been considered, though the staff decided to simply refer to the puppets by their given names." he leaned forward in his chair, sliding his glasses back into place as he observed his guest.

"P-Puppets? Sissy, why do people keep calling us that? It's rude...and mean!" the little boy's voice wavered as though on the verge of tears.

The little girl let out a huff of protest and tossed her head defiantly, her golden curls bouncing this way and that. "Very mean, Pappe. That's no way to treat little kids." her expression remained defiant as her voice showed the same vulnerability as her brother.

"Pappe?" asked the assistant.

"Yes, Pappe and Tempe. The patient shows no sign of emotion of his own. We have yet to determine the reason behind the need for his dolls. It's still under observation."

The assistant nodded and continued her scribbling.

The little girl looked at the doctor as her lip quivered. "Can we go home now, mister? It's past our bedtime."

The assistant gave a worried glance to the doctor.

"Now now, think nothing of that. It's a simple illusion. Despite their life-like qualities, they are nothing of the sort." the doctor assured her as the children shivered in their seats.

"We ARE alive!" cried the girl.

"Oh but of course you are, sweetheart. Wait one moment, would you? My assistant and I need to speak in private." the doctor answered.

"N-No, don't leave us here! It's scary!" the little boy cried, reaching out for the doctor.

The doctor slapped its hand away as he left his chair, his assistant following him as he exited the room.

After a minute or so, the assistant and the doctor had returned, though the doctor remained standing rather than taking his seat.

"C-Can we go now?" the boy asked. On both of the children's faces had been liquid trailing from their eyes. Of course, it hadn't been there before they'd left the room.

"Oh, yes of course you may." said the doctor as two guards came in and seized the puppets, plucking them out of their chairs.

"Oh no! Sissy where are they taking us?" the little boy cried.

"Let me go!" she yelled at the guard carrying her.

"Come now, Tempe. There's nothing to worry about." the doctor spoke softly to her as he approached the lifeless being sitting behind them. "We simply have some..." with a single swipe with a pair of scissors, the strings were severed from the man's fingers and the children slunk forward in the arms of the guards. "...Tests to run. It shouldn't be long." the doctor finished as he slid the scissors into his front pocket.

As the guards exited the room, the man's frame jerked up. His glass eyes remained staring forward at the doctor as his head moved as though observing the bits of string left wound around his fingers in horror. With a single motion, his head snapped back and a bloody, animalistic shriek rose from his throat, scratchy and hoarse as though he hadn't used that volume for a time. His threaded fingers clung to his chest helplessly as he screamed, startling the assistant as she fumbled for her clipboard.

The doctor grinned, his eyes glistening at this new behavior.

"Very good, Mary. That'll be all for today."

Flare

Flames whispered quietly as sun light began to peek through an open window. Flare sat on her bed her hand raised as fire flitted from one of her fingers to another. Sometimes the little flames paused and swayed to air currents too weak for her to feel. With some disappointment she let the flames shrink until they were gone. Fire might be a bringer of life and death and she a part of it, but that would not stop her boss form killing her if she was late. She pulled herself out of bed and headed off to get ready for her day.

Halfway through her nutritious breakfast of leftover pizza she felt one of her little sentinel fires flicker. Not the continuous flickering it did due to drafts in the empty city, something else had caused it. She jumped up out of her chair and ran to the window. Most would assume it was an animal, she however did not. This flame was in the asylum her home and playground, animals did not enter the place that smelled of smoke and fire. She wolfed down her pizza and then jumped out of the second story window. She landed and ran to one of the smaller buildings on the complex. With her ears straining to hear proof of an intruder she snuck in through one of the opened windows.

The first things she noticed was the taint in the air, human waste and fear burned her nose. She grimaced in disgust, the smell would cling to her clothes so she would have to change, more work. With a sigh she pulled her hood over her head and lifted her scarf to cover most of her face. She did not need people recognizing her at work as the 'asylum ghost' as she was sometimes called.

A soft whimper halted her movement and the sound of flesh hitting flesh followed by muffled cry spurred her into action. She walked into the room as casually as if she owned the place, which she liked to think she did. Tied to an old chair was a girl, or a woman Flare couldn't tell. She was blind folded, gagged, and quite thoroughly tied up. In front of her was a young man with his hand raised as if to hit her again. He stared at her in shock and then anger. "What are you doing here? Huh?" he asked and moved towards her in what Flare assumed was supposed to an intimidating manner. She smiled brightly behind her scarf and explained, "Oh nothing much, it's just that I am trying to get rid of a pest that has invaded my house."

She closed the distance between them and stared into his eye for a moment. Displeased with what she saw and the situation as a whole her arm shot out and she delivered a punch to his gut and knocked him out. She dragged him into the room next door and shut it behind her, he would be out for a while. She then walked to a small closet that contained old and dusty cleaning equipment. Grabbing a few items she headed back to the room the girl was in. Pulling a knife out of her sleeve she cut the girls ropes and stood back as she shot up. The girls hands ripped off her blind fold and made short work of the gag.

Terrified eyes searched the room for her captor. Putting together the sounds she had heard and his absence she smiled at Flare in gratitude. "Thank you so much for saving me." she said her voice quivering. "I had no idea what he was going to do with me. How can I repay you?" Flare raised her arm and pointed to the bucket on the floor and the sponge and mop beside it. With a flourish she moved her hands to indicate the room. She didn't come here often but the next time she did she did not want it to smell as it did now.

With slight confusion and then acceptance the girl nodded. She then paused and asked, "Where do I get water?" Flare motioned for her to grab the bucket and follow. She walked her to the bathroom were she pointed at the sink. As the girl filled the bucket Flare grabbed a moth eaten 'patient' uniform and set it on a dry sink. The girl smiled in gratitude and went off to clean. Deciding the girl was likely to make her way home by herself Flare turned to go. With an amused shrug at the girls cheerful countenance she walked back to the room where she had left the man. Grabbing his wrists she dragged him out into the grey courtyard. Some distance from any buildings she lowered him into a concealed pit, one far to deep for him to climb out of, pity.

She hopped in as well and crouched by his unconscious form. She opened his mouth and then pulled a tube of glue out of her pocket. Super glue was a marvelous thing, given even a few seconds it could make two objects almost inseparable. She generously coated his lips and then held them together. After two quiet rounds of row, row, row your boat she let go. With a strong leap and fire in her steps Flare jumped out of the pit. With a grim smile she sent some fire into the pit, and with gleeful abandon it caught onto the man's clothes. She turned away from the pit and headed back towards the main asylum building. She was late for work.

A muffled scream erupted from the pit as the man regained consciousness. With a delighted laugh as the smell of burning flesh rose to meet the sun she smiled. Yes, today was going to be a good day.

Mary O'Nette

As the cell doors were closed for the night, it was not uncommon to hear the wails and screams, often muffled, through the steel doors. It was uncommon however, to hear the frantic aftermath of an hour's worth of sobbing behind door 9024.

If the guards had been more intent on standing by the monitors, they would have noticed a lanky frame bent over two lifeless dolls. They would have heard his raspy, broken cries as he fumbled blindly to attach the broken strings on his fingers to their lengthy counterparts. They would have seen him raise his arm in an attempt to wipe non-existent tears from his discolored face, only to realize the futility of the attempt and re-position a glass eye, knowingly worsening its condition.

They were not there, and the man stood from his position on the floor in exhausted satisfaction. He slowly moved backwards. His movements were cautious, yet clumsy as though he had little control of his own movement. As his heel felt the sensation of a tangle of thread, he held his arms in a crucifix fashion and fell backwards, his body meeting a massive web of his own design. Each thread crossed over the other, and could be trailed back to the wall from which it was held by an unknown force. If looked at closely, the thread could be seen with the same color as that of his flimsy, skeleton of a uniform. Nobody had seen how he'd done it, and nobody could form an explanation.

The man's feet remained firm upon the ground as he leaned back in a near-standing position. His lids closed over vacant eyes as his head bowed forward. This seemed to only be an act of habit as his eyes opened once again, having no need to retain moisture. Within seconds, the puppets came to life with a tug from his fingers.

The two gasped for air before looking at each other and huddling in a startled embrace.

--

The hours ticked by on a clock that nobody could see. Its sound would resonate through the hall, and every so often a patient could be heard thrashing in time with its rhythm.

By this time, the child figures had grown comfortable in this solitary atmosphere and sat cross-legged across from each other on the chilled, tile flooring. The click-clack of wood against wood could be heard in a familiar rhythm, as the monotonous voices of the children chanted its assigned nursery rhyme.

"Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man..."

A shuffling above their ceiling went unheard as they seemed to grow intent on tripping the other up in speed.

"...Bake me a cake as fast as you can..."the clapping of wood grew louder and more frantic as the strings pulled their hands together at a faster pace.

The shuffling came to a stop just above the grate in the center of their ceiling.

"Roll it, pat it, and mark it with a-"

Their heads whirled around to face the wall behind the grate at the sound something dropping from the ceiling.

"...Buh-Buh-B?" the little boy finished as the little girl slowly took her hands away from her brother's and stood to her feet, dusting her black and white striped, prisonesque skirt. She slowly approached the foreign object, her back turned toward the little boy.

"What'd you find, sissy?" he asked.

"Eww....it looks like someone's finger, Pappe!"

"IT WHAT?!" he asked. At this exact moment, several more fell through, splashing in the blood that had been dripping in single drops, one after the other.

"EW! It got on my dress!" the girl stumbled backwards and rushed to her brother, attempting to pat away the new crimson stain. A single, exasperated sigh could be heard in the corner.

"Don't touch it! Don't touch it!" the boy pleaded as he covered his eyes with his hands.

"I can't get it off!" she whined as she pursued her attempts in smearing it away.

In their panicked distraction, several body parts fell through the grate behind them. And several more. It took the little boy's removal of his hands from his eyes to notice a gangling, bleeding mass as it hovered over them.

"Sissy..." the boy whispered in paralyzed terror as he forced himself to point at what his sister had her back turned to.

She slowly turned to meet the gaze of two vacant sockets. Through both, her reflection stared back at her.

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, leaning forward in an insulted defense.

"It's rude to stare, you know. You're trespassing, anyway."

The mass simply cracked his head to the side and let out a rasped breath.

"Stare...anyway..." he rasped. His throat seemed to choke his words.

"Hmph!" the little girl pouted and tossed her curls. "That's not very gentlemanly, especially after a lady asks you to stop!"

"Um...Tempe, do you really think we should be talking to him? He doesn't seem very friendly..." the boy asked.

"I think he'd be fine if he learned some manners." Tempe turned to her brother in a quick gesture and noticed that the mass had been inches closer than before.

"SISSY! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" Pappe cried.

"See what?" asked Tempe.

"When you moved really fast like that, he went like he was gonna attack you!" Pappe slowly backed away until he was sitting against the wall.

"Really?" Tempe's wooden lips twitched into a grin. "I'd like to see him try. What's your name, mister?" she asked.

"Tempe, stop! Pappy told us not to talk to strangers!" Pappe shouted.

"Pappy's not here!" Tempe spat, keeping her focus on the mangled figure in front of her. Its jaw unhinged, and he shoved it back with a bloody crunch.

"No-t...Mis-ter...." it groaned.

"Sarcastic, are we?" the girl huffed. "Do you even have a name?"

It took in a sharp breath and jerked to the side, its left arm coming apart and falling to the ground. His joints popped as he bent down and picked it up, reattaching it with a crunch of bone meeting bone.

"Ew...he's like...what are those types of dollies called again, Pappe?" Tempe asked as she pulled back her foot from meeting the increasing amount of gore on their once completely white floor.

"A rag doll, sis?" asked Pappe.

"Yeah! He's like a living rag doll!' Tempe declared.

"Ra-gsssssss..." the figure hissed.

"That's your name? Rags?" asked Tempe.

The man did not answer, and a moment of silence met the three of them.

"I like him! Tempe confirmed.

"N-NO! Gross! What?!" Pappe shrieked. "He's scary! He needs to leave!"

"Yeah! Maybe he'll let us out of here!" Tempe suggested. "What do you say, Mr. Rags?"

"Need...ou-t...of...here." he spat blood at the 't' with a snap of his neck. It pooled in the split skin of his lip.

With a lurch forward, he stood in front of the barred window of their cell door. He reached his hand through, bringing his arm back with a bleeding stump of a wrist. This continued until a good portion of him had been on the other side. With a click, the door snapped open, and an arm reached through to grab the severed, bleeding head from its new position on the floor.

"Here...." he rasped as he swung the door open for the two to exit. The two looked at each other, grabbing the other's hand before following the trail of blood. The forgotten figure in the corner rose from his resting place and followed close behind. A vacant grin could be seen just behind his overgrown, grease-ridden bangs.

Flare

Flare smiled serenely as fire crackled around her. Heat surrounded her as she went about her tasks. She opened a drawer and carefully selected a blade. She would only get one chance to do this correctly. With a nervous but determined breath she set to work. She gently carved a shape into flesh looking longingly at the red liquid that seeped from it. One little taste could not hurt could it? She sighed and then shook her head. No, she needed to focus on her work.

Except it was not really work, not to her any ways. It was the creating of a masterpiece that brought great fulfillment to her. With a critical and then pleased expression she placed the carved flesh in it's rightful place. She turned her head and yelled, "Mrs. Lyler's cake is finished." She smiled at the fruit covered cake. A strawberry flower sat in the middle surrounded by an array of tropical fruits cut into various shapes.

This was one of her best cakes yet. Her client was going to love this cake, or she was going to cram it down her throat till she did. With that thought in mind she gently carried the cake to the front of the little bakery that she worked at. She smiled sweetly at the the hawk like woman in front of the register. "Your order is ready ma'am." Watching the woman judge her cake with a look of disdain Flare scowled. The woman's beak like nose wrinkled in distaste. "I thought I told you to arrange the fruits in a pattern and to make the centerpiece pop. This is just a slew of fruits haphazardly tossed upon a cake."

Flare's expression went entirely flat. This woman dared to insult the fruit of her labor? How dare she? Flare had lived longer than any normal human. She had eaten the treats of famed bakers and seen them at work. She liked to think that she had inherited some of the talents of the unlucky ones that had been burned by her flames. What gave this snobbish woman who probably could not bake bread the right to judge her work? Before Flare could verbally rip into the woman she spoke once again, "Oh well, it will have to do. Make sure that your next cake is not a disappointment like this one."

Without further ado the woman swept out the door leaving Flare gaping and spluttering in outrage. Her boss looked at her sympathetically and invited her to keep the ovens hot. Usually this would be an activity that would relieve stress because of physical exertion. In Flare's case is gave her a chance to release some of the flames growing inside her. With a nod she marched to the kitchen and did exactly that.

Several hours and many baked goods later Flare took off her apron for the night. As she walked towards the door her boss casually spoke to her, "Wouldn't it be a shame if Mrs. Lyler's precious hair was to catch on fire while she was sleeping. I can see the news now. "Rich Vulture Lady's Hair Mysteriously Catches Fire While She's In Bed." In bed on the fourth floor of our city's most famous hotel, suite 306 to be exact." He leisurely twirled a a hotel key around his finger before tossing it to her. "Good night." He called as he walked the stairs to his apartment above the bakery.

Flare shook her head in disbelief, her boss never ceased to amaze her. She never could figure out how much her boss knew about her. Whether he knew of her true nature of just thought she was a fire loving human. Either way she was going to put this key to good use.

The Escape

"Sissy, it's lighter than we thought out here, what if they see us?" the timid little boy clung to the hem of his sister's dress, who brushed his hand away with a clack .

"Don't hold onto me so tight! What if we gotta run or something?" Tempe looked up at the strange mass of bleeding skin as he trudged down a white hallway. He led them lethargically, making it a point to keep covered within the shadows despite how thin or small they seemed to be. It were as though he were naturally drawn to them.

"We should be running right now! Why is he so slow?!" Pappe began to whine as he and his sister stepped over a freshly smeared trail of crimson.

"He got us outta there, didn't he? You should be nicer to him, he's gonna save us!" Tempe huffed.

Pappe's mouth opened, but no voice came through to match what he was meant to say. His eyes widened as he held a wooden hand to his throat. Tempe looked over at him in horror.

Behind them, the forgotten figure's jaw twitched. His glass eyes squeezed themselves shut as he stood still. The puppets fell in a jumbled heap where they stood as his hands dropped to his sides. His shoulders were hunched as his hands came up to feel his face. with every gesture of his hands, the puppets would writhe and jolt on the ground in a lifeless pile.

He pushed his fingers past his lips, attempting to pull his jaw apart by hand. He cringed at he lack of success, and with a single forceful jerk of his lower jaw, it cracked into place. His now operable mouth opened and let out a sigh as his puppets jerked to life. They ran full speed around the corner where their new ally had left them.

"Mr. Rags, where are you? Why'd you leave us?" Tempe shouted as they tore down the hall, following the trail of blood until they'd found him standing by a door.

The two children's eyes followed a new trail of blood from the floor as its splattered gore led their gaze to the vacant stare of a guard. He was held by a bleeding, fleshy substance that could have been mistaken for his entrails if they hadn't been glistening in the hospital light on the floor beneath him. The only thing that could be recognized about him was his face, which seemed untouched despite a stream of blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Wow, that went faster than I thought." Tempe looked at the killer who cracked his neck to the side and pulled the unguarded door open for them to step through. A gory slime smeared on the handle of the door as he grasped it. At this point they couldn't tell whether it was the guard's or his own. An alarm rang through each hall with a violent screech, causing the children to cringe at the sharp sound.

"Ah, thanks Mr.Rags!" The two children and the puppeteer hurried through the door. As they did, the little boy's eyes hadn't left those of the deceased man on the wall.

"Say...wasn't he the screaming guy that woke us up running through our hall last night, sis?" he asked as they stepped into the night air.

"Faster....thank-s." the man groaned as he made his way to the shading of the wooded area by the asylum.

"Well that's mean! Fine, we'll go faster!" Tempe pouted as they quickly followed him out of sight of the hospital grounds.

They ran for what felt like miles as the alarm fell inaudible with distance.

They were free.

The puppeteer grinned as he clung tighter to their strings.


--

"Mr.Rags, it hurts! How much longer do we gotta walk?" Tempe whined in a hushed tone. They followed him behind a line of trees that shielded them from the eyes of late-night strollers.

"Tempe, you saw what he did to the guard guy...you gotta be nicer..." Pappe warned as they tried to keep up.

"Mr. Rags, what are you going to do about your uniform? Won't they know you're part of the asylum if they see you?" Tempe asked. The man stopped in front of them and turned to look at her. His sockets blinked one after the other as if contemplating her question.

"Won-'t...see...uniform..." he rasped as they approached a road leading to a small town area. Its streets were vacant as shadows stretched across the yellow glow of its street lights.

"How?" Tempe asked.

Rags ignored her question and looked ahead, stepping over to a semi-lit building. The two children seemed to squint in order to read the sign on its lawn.

"...Yo...tel..." the little girl read. "What kind of pun is that?!" she looked over at her brother who threw a hand to his face.

"We're not staying here, are we, Mr.Rags?" Tempe looked up at him. His neck let out a crunch with each shake of his head.

"Not...staying." he answered.

"Oh good." she answered as they stepped past the door. A flash of red caught the the blackened eyes of the gory man, and his head jerked to look in its direction.

Through the door, a bellhop was stacking luggage upon a gold-painted cart. The silver buttons on his red uniform glistened in the light behind the glass hotel door. His gloves were a pristine white.

Rags' dried lips jerked into a half-smirk for a millisecond before returning to its blank state.

He knew how he'd get rid of his asylum wear.

Flare

Flare stared in derision at the hotel sign in front of her. "Yotel,who the heck named this place?!" This was the nicest hotel for miles and it had a name that a motel would be ashamed of. She shook her head in amusement and casually walked into the hotel. It was not the most luxurious hotel she had seen but it's elegant simplicity was charming.

She stepped up to the service elevator that bellboys took the luggage up in. She pushed the elevator's calling button and when it came empty she smiled. She stepped into it and double checked the elevator for cameras. Her shoulders relaxed as she confirmed their absence. She did not want to be caught on camera in an elevator especially considering what she was about to do.

She knew the people who came to this hotel payed good money for privacy, so there were no cameras outside of the lobby and elevators. She quietly exited the elevator and pulled out the key that her boss had gifted her with. With a swift twist and push she unlocked the the door and entered the room. She gently pushed the door close behind her till it was only slightly ajar.

With a delighted expression she looked at the prone form of the cake insulting vulture in the bed. Oh it t'would be sweet the task she was about to perform. She opened the hotel's closet and searched for the woman's prized fur coat. She wrinkled her nose at the fox fur coat. Did this woman not see that the beauty of these creatures was meant to be experienced while they lived?When sun caused their fur to glow and the wind gently ruffled it.

With some regret and sorrow on the fox's behalf she took the coat out onto the balcony. She hooked it onto the balcony and set it aflame. She turned around and walked into the hotel room stopping beside the woman's head. She gently traced the woman's eyebrows and flame came to life behind her fingers. With a flourish she petted the sleeping woman's head as flames began to catch in her hair.

She walked away a skip in her step and a smile on her face as she walked down the hall. The woman would wake her husband soon in a blind panic as she realized her hair was on fire. She sighed in content as she waited for the elevator to arrive. Looking up at the sound of the elevator's arrival ding she stepped close to is as the doors opened. She stepped inside and frowned as a distant scream caught her attention. "What the heck was that?" She mumbled in annoyance. The elevator came to a jarring stop and it's doors slid open.

She stopped. She stared. This day was not going well at all.

Ragdoll and the Kids

"Mr.Rags, what are you doing? I thought you wanted to be fast!" Tempe tugged on the leg of his pants, which were stiff with dried blood and resewn almost every other inch. "And not to be rude," she added as if remembering the scene at the hospital door. "But I don't think we should be distracted, do you?"

He looked down at her after a moment of looking at the bellhop. His lips pulled apart to where his teeth were completely exposed in what hadn't looked like a grin at all. If anything, it were a silent snarl. The dryness of his skin caused the corners of his lips to bleed when pulled apart. His wrist flung limply towards the door to where a crooked finger pointed to the red form bent over a pile of luggage.

"You....dist-rac-t." he rasped, his hand moving up to point at the lady at the counter behind the bellhop.

"Oh...." Tempe muttered. Her wooden lips tilted into a smile as she beamed at him. "Well okay! Brother and I are really good at that. Aren't we, Pappe?" she looked over at her brother, who for once hadn't shown the least bit of fear.

"Yeah, sis. We really are." he beamed back at her.

With a snap of his neck, the bloody man held up his wrist. His hand remained limp as he turned it upward in a gesture as though to say 'After you.'

The two nodded and skipped to the door in every literal sense.

--

"Hey, Margaret, what do you want me to do with this one case? It won't fit." A man by the age of twenty looked up at his manager with tired eyes.

"Just carry it under your free arm when you pull the cart." she answered, not looking away from her novel that she was immersed in.

"With your free arm, eh?" the man grumbled under his breath.

"Excuse me..."

Margaret looked up from her book to see two small children peeking over the counter.

"Oh hello, sweetie! What can I do for you?" she leaned over the counter to see them more efficiently. If her eyes were not fixated on the two children's angelic features, she would have noticed the movement under the lobby carpet where the strings were hidden.

The teary eyed girl clasped her hands in front of her as the little boy clutched her sleeve. "We can't find our mama, we thought she came in here."

Margaret's eyes saddened as she put her book down in its entirety and moved to the computer. "What's her name, honey?" she asked. The little girl's porcelain lids closed over their eyes and pushed the liquid down her cheeks. "Angie....I think other people call her Angela sometimes." the little girl sniffled.

"Okay, let me see if she's here." Margaret's furious clicking was followed by a weary sigh. "I'm sorry, dear. She's not in here. Did you see her come in?"

"Yeah, we're sure." the little boy piped in.

"Really?...oh my...maybe it was a different hotel. I don't see her. Do you want me to call for help?" Margaret asked. "I could get someone to help find your mama with you. It's all I can do if she's not here."

The little boys eyes shifted to the left really quick in a timid manner before looking up at her. "But she's GOTTA be in here! She's just gotta!" his hands flew to his face as he heaved forward.

"I'm sorry, honey but she isn't...I'll call for help. Just a moment. wait right there, alright?" Margaret wheeled her chair over to the phone at her desk. Three clicks of a button, and the police were on the line.

"Yes, I've got two children here that lost their mother..." she began. She looked over at the children who were staring back at her gratefully. She smiled at them before looking down at the phone again.

When she was finished with the call, she looked up and screamed.

The phone dropped and swung on its chord.

The children were gone.

On the wall next to where they stood, a near-unrecognizable lump of flesh hung naked on the wall.

Margaret shrieked and reached for the phone in a panic.

"P-P-P-Police..." she choked. Her eyes kept contact with the lifeless stare of her former bellhop. Blood leaked from the gap where his throat and arms had been.


--

"Mr. Rags, wait! We're going as fast as we can! We're not even in the same town anymore! Where are we going?!" Tempe shouted after him until he finally stopped at a clearing and slunk behind a large tree.

"Waiiii-t." his voice rasped as they heard shuffling behind the trunk.

"Fine! We need rest anyway!" Tempe fell into a sitting position. Pappe followed and rest his head on her shoulder in exhaustion.

Within a few minutes, the man stepped out of his area of hiding.

Tempe's eyes widened and Pappe's head shot up from her shoulder.

"Wow....I...that's not a look you see on a monster every day..." Pappe murmured.

"I like it! Tempe answered. "At least he found something that isn't his uniform, right?" Pappe looked up as though thinking and nodded.

Ragdoll did not answer as he carried his former outfit and continued on his way.

"We're still going?" Tempe pouted.

"S-till..." he agreed.

"Oh okay....will it be long?" she asked.

"Not...long..." he answered.

"Thank goodness!" she skipped up next to him, holding onto the red sleeve of his new bellhop uniform. "Wow, you've got the hat and everything! Those gloves won't stay white for long though." she assured him.

"I...li-ke...white." he groaned.

"He actually LIKES things?!" Pappe shouted.

"Well that's rude, Pappe! He's a person too, no matter how much he bleeds!" Tempe scolded before looking back up at Ragdoll. "Okay, well we can always find new ones when you bleed through those, right?" she asked.

"Righ-t..." he agreed.

They walked another mile or so before they came across a large building. It was aged, and noticeably crumbling in certain areas.

"Wow...what's that..." Tempe murmured.

"Tha-t..." Ragdoll answered as he pointed to a sign with all words faded but one.

"Asylum...." Pappe read. "Are people still here?" he asked.

"Nah, I don't think so. This place looks like it hasn't been taken care of in years...look! All the windows are broken." Tempe pointed at the dark abyss behind shattered glass.

"Ohhh...okay." Pappe nodded. "So is this where we're staying? It's really big. I've never had a big house before."

Ragdoll snapped his head to the side "St-aying." he groaned.

"YAY! 'Bout time we found somewhere!" Tempe skipped to the entrance and opened the door. "Oooh look, it's dark!"

"I...I'm scared of the dark..." Pappe whined as he followed Ragdoll towards his sister.

"It'll be morning soon and the sun'll come through the windows. It'll be okay!" Tempe assured him as she skipped inside.

As the three walked in, the forgotten puppeteer slowly felt his way up the stairs that led to the door.

Flare

A grumble escaped Flare's lips as she kicked a stone on her way home. First the vile vulture wench dared to insult her cake. Then some idiot murdered a bellhop. Not any bellhop though, oh no! It was the bellhop in the hotel she had gone to. I mean they could not have chosen a different bellhop? Heck they could have knocked him out and then stolen his clothes! "But nooo! They had to kill him and stick him to a wall!" She snarled angrily.

She glowered at the descending moon, as it reminded her of the wasted hours being interrogated by the police. She knew nothing of the murder or why they stole the guys clothes. No she did not know the small children and she was most definitely NOT their mother. Did she look old enough to be their mother? "I think not!" As she hissed a bush burst into flames a few feet away. Too angry to care she continued on her way.

She had been contentedly standing in the elevator when a scream shook her out of her blissful haze. She figured it was the city and people screamed all the time, no big deal. Which is why when the elevator doors opened she was met with the sight of a bloody mess of flesh stuck to the wall in front of her.

She gaped in shock at the body and the pieces lying on the floor. What had happened here? She had been upstairs for about five minutes. "How?" She rasped incredulously. Before she could find the answer to that questions a flurry of activity filled the lobby. Recognizing the Police uniform she widened her eyes in horror and sunk to the floor as if in shock. A police officer ran up to her asking if she was okay and attempting to move her from the murder scene.

Thus began a round of tug of war as the paramedics insisted she stay with them and the Police insisted she be questioned. After practically rock, paper, scissoring over who would get her the Police took her for interrigation. She shuddered as she thought of the officer that had droned on and on. These were her rights, this is what they knew, and her life would be difficult if she did not confess. After a couple of hours revealed she knew nothing the reluctantly let her go.

She exited an ally way near her home and stopped. "Why is there a blood trail in my city?" She asked hysteria leaking into her voice. She did not want to deal with this, not at all. "No, no, I refuse." she said. "I do not want to know, I did not see that." With determination she looked ahead of her and hurried to her waiting bed.

Just before she reached her door she glanced down hoping against hoping that there would not be a blood trail there. There was.

She shut her eyes and tried to control her breathing in an attempt to calm down. Her eyes then flew open as her patience snapped. That was it, she was done. She followed the blood trail into her house, her fury and despair increasing as she saw it head to her room. She steeled herself as she prepared for what would be inside. It was likely a body.

As she looked into her room she wished it was.

Ragdoll and the Kids.

Ragdoll followed along beside the two wooden children as they trotted from room to room, marveling at the state of each one. The house was large and empty, and the children's quickened footsteps could be heard as a dull echo through each musty hallway. The string-wielding shadow behind them had begun to blindly reach out his hands, stroking his finger tips on every shape that had felt like furniture. His glass eyes widened and his fingers were quick to maneuver his realization through his wooden children.

"Mr. Rags! This is an old house, but I don't see any dust anywhere!" Tempe marveled. "It's so clean! I like it here!"

Pappe's wooden lids opened as far as they could go as he shook his head. "That...that's not good, sissy! What if someone lives here!" he muttered.

"Well maybe it wasn't too long ago since they'd evacuated!" Tempe chimed. Pappe's arms still shook at his sides, but he nodded as though being quick to trust his older sister. "...I...I guess they could...it's very old and abandoned looking, but I guess they could have..." he muttered. Tempe just giggled and hopped over to one room, reaching up to jerk at the doorknob. As it opened, she looked over to ragdoll, clicking her head to the side in a toss of golden curls. "How about this room, Mr. Rags?" she asked.

The ragdoll twisted his head from side to side, the motion coaxing blood to seep through the seams of his neck, where the skin could be pulled apart. Tempe pouted, but continued forward. "Hey, Mr. Rags! The red carpet hides your bloody trail pretty well! This is the perfect home for you!" she beamed as she moved to the next room, jerking its door open with another click of a head tilt. "How about this one?" she asked. Two bone-crunching twists of Ragdoll's neck, and they were at another door, and another. They had covered three floors of the abandoned mental hospital until they reached a door that Ragdoll had frozen in front of. It was cracked open, and he peered inside. The two children stared at him expectantly, their little glassy eyes widening as the living mass of flesh turned and snapped his head down in a nod. "YAY!" shouted Tempe. "This one?" she asked.

"Thisss...one...." he repeated, pulling open the door and shuffling inside. The two children looked at each other and grinned, skipping into the room behind him. A pale, gloved hand reached out to feel the wooden interior of the door, pulling it away a bit to make room for himself as he entered.

"I like this room, Mr. Rags!" Tempe said as the two children skipped around the room, pulling open every drawer they could find and jumping up and down on the bed. One of the puppets tripped on the bed sheets, falling over with a rustling thud. "Oops." he giggled.

Ragdoll's blackened eyes shifted around in their sockets as he searched the room, and he moved toward the bed to set his bloodied uniform down. He'd used too much force, and his arm shot from its socket, landing on the bloodied pile of cloth. New blood seeped into that which had long been dried and stained upon the garment, repainting it a livelier red. He stared at the blood splattered sheets for a moment before grinding another syllable out through his vocal chords. "OOP-S...."

The two children looked down at the arm in disgust for a moment, then toppled over into a heap of snorts and giggles at Ragdoll's reaction, making it a point to roll around on the spot that wasn't soiled. As this had all been happening, a hunched form felt at the walls, its hand stopping as it met the sensation of a doorknob. He turned it slowly, making sure the sound was nearly inaudible as he stepped inside. His shaking fingers felt at the fabric that hung on each side of him in the closet he'd found. He felt a grin tug at his lips as he carefully pulled a few articles of clothing off of their hanger, his glass eyes rolling aimlessly in the pitch darkness.

The two children froze as they heard the door to their new room open. They looked over at the mortified looking girl closely. Ragdoll's fingers gave a single twitch at his sides. His blackened eyes darted to unnoticeably look her up and down as though searching for any signs of sudden movement. He kept his eyes fixated upon her as he jerked his arm behind him at an unnatural angle. His bones crunched and grinded against their sockets as they were pulled into a position they weren't designed for. His fingers fumbled for his arm and he snatched it up, snapping it back in place in a swift, bloodied movement.

"Who is she?" Tempe whispered to Pappe.

"I don't know!...I...oh, Tempe I told you someone lived here!" his voice quivered. Their strings slid beneath the closet door, sawing loudly against the wood at the bottom of the door with each movement.

Flare's eyes widened in horror. No No NO! She mentally denied, this was not happening. All she wanted was a nice nap before she patrolled her city. A nap in the bed that was now stained with blood and had a dismembered arm on it. Her eyes widened further as the man, if he could be called that, fumbled for his arm. As he attached it she cringed at the wet crunching sounds it caused.

She registered two other 'people' in the room and stared at them before looking to the sawing noise. Strings were coming from under her closet door, something that greatly displeased he. Following them to the children she became aware or their wooden state. Suddenly recognition leapt into her eyes as she looked between the ragged man's clothing and the children on her bed.

Her mind went back to her interrogation and she snarled in fury. She glowered at the three in her room and stepped forward slowly trying to control her rage and the flames aching to escape. "You! It was you all who caused the commotion at the hotel!" A soft whine escape Flare as her stress levels continued to rise.

She slowly began to pace trying to control her anger and stopped suddenly as her rage finally boiled over. She saw Ragdoll flinch out of the corner of her eye. With a shudder she let the flames burst from within. As fire flowed over her she began to relax. Thankfully most things in her house, her clothes included, were fireproof or else the asylum would have burned down long ago.

The fire around Flare's hand grew and shrunk as she flexed her fingers in frustration. First things first she needed new sheets. She was going to get her nap intruders or not. In her haste she forgot the displeasing wires leading to her closet. She opened her walk-in-closet her dying flames lighting the interior. Inside her closet was a web of, wires was it? Her eyes widened as she spotted cloth strips on her floor. "Is that my favorite shirt?!" she shrieked. Flare's flames roared back to life revealing something she had neither expected nor desired to see.

Nestled on the wires was a lanky male whom she would guess was controlling the puppets in her room. With a bewildered look to the ceiling she sunk to the floor in exasperation. That was it she was done, absolutely done. She lay down on her closet's floor in exhaustion, she'd just take her nap here.