HOME | DD

Description
Henry let out a soft moan and attempted to move, only to find something restraining him. His ears were ringing and he could feel his head throbbing. He lifted his heavy eyes.
Somebody was standing in front of him, a dark silhouette. Henry scrunched his eyes shut.
They were so blurry they were nearly useless. He felt so nauseous.
I was unconscious...again? Yes...the first time was when I fell through the floor...then I was walking… he struggled to remember what had happened, I was hit on the back of my head...oh...that’s going to hurt for a long time. I hope I didn’t do any severe damage to my brain.
Henry was sitting on the dusty, wooden floor, tied with rope to a beam supporting the ceiling.
Beneath him there were black markings drawn on the floor. Chalk or soot or...ink…
They were swooping lines and stars and circles. They were scrawled sloppily, as if the person who made them was in a rush. They were like the ones near the cardboard cutouts of...him.
Henry could hardly dare think the name. He’d seen so much in the past hours...or days...whichever it was. He, Henry’s cartoon, was real. Alive. By some unholy power, he was here. Henry had seen him. His pale face with black ink leaking down it, his pointed horns and teeth would never fade from Henry’s mind. It was as if the image of the cartoon was burned into the retinas of his eyes and would always be there on the backs of his eyelids until death relieved him of the trauma.
How Henry and his comrade had loved their creation. The little creature’s laugh was like a whistle. It had always made Henry laugh. Thinking of the laugh now made him sick to his stomach.
Henry’s vision was clearing. The figure was breathing heavily. Its watery breath made it sound like something had coated the insides of its lungs, inhibiting its breathing.
The ropes around Henry loosened slightly as he moved. The figure dove forward and grabbed an end of the rope. It pulled back the rope, constricting Henry. He choked for breath. He would have screamed if he had been able to fill his lungs enough.
“There, there, we wouldn’t want our little sheep roaming away now, would we? No...we wouldn’t.” the figure had stepped into the light for a second and Henry saw his face. Henry let out another moan that was supposed to be a scream.
It was his face. The demon.
“B-Bend...” Henry wheezed and a tear dripped off his chin. The monster ignored his captive. Henry looked closer. The figure was not Bendy. It was only a mask, made from a cardboard cut-out. The paint on parts had worn away and ink had splattered other parts. The top of Bendy’s wide smile had been cut out, maybe to make it easier for its already ailing wearer to breath. The figure was wearing nothing but stained overalls that were slipping over his hips, because they were much too big. The figure’s stomach gaped under his ribs and his lanky arms dangled at his sides. And worse of all he was covered in a thick layer of ink.
“I must admit, I am honored you came all the way down here to visit me,” he said slowly,”It almost makes what I’m about to do seem...cruel.”
Henry shrank back as he thought he saw a few white teeth in the hole in the figure’s mask.
“But the believers must honor their savior,” the creature continued,”I must have him notice me.”
“Who are you talking about!” Henry cried softly. The monster shot out an arm like a rattlesnake and tightened the ropes again.
“Wait...you look familiar to me...that face…” the figure cooed. It was then Henry recognized him too.
The music director? Mr. Lawrence?
“Not now,” Sammy Lawrence growled,”For our lord is calling to us, my little sheep.”
He raised his voice,”The time of sacrifice is at hand! And then, I will finally be freed from this...prison. This inky, dark, abyss I call a body.” He spat out the word abyss.
“Shhhh…” he put a long finger to his lips,”Quiet! Listen! I can hear him. Crawling above. Crawling!”
Above the two of them there was a thumping noise in the vents. Something was indeed crawling in them.
“Let us begin. The ritual must be completed!” Sammy laughed and held Henry’s jaw with a sticky hand. Then he whispered, his masked face close to Henry’s,”Soon he will hear me...he will set us free.”
With a final gurgly breath Sammy turned and trudged to a door to Henry’s left. He closed it with a quiet creak.
Henry immediately began to wriggle, trying to undo the ropes. The pain in his head had hardly abated.
In front of Henry, about twenty feet away, was small garage door. Closer to Henry were four more beams supporting the ceiling. Horizontal boards held them together in pairs, one on each side of the garage door. Speakers were hung on the two middle beams. There were ink pipes on the ceiling. Candles and ink splatters were strewn across the floor.
The speakers made a loud static noise and then Henry was greeted with Sammy’s voice. He whispered the same poem Henry suddenly remembered hearing earlier. Yes, Henry’s consciousness had returned for a few seconds while Sammy stood over him after hitting him on the head. He had been singing the same monotone tune.
“Sheep, sheep, sheep, it’s time for sleep. Rest your head, it’s time for bed. In the morning you may wake. Or in the morning...you’ll be dead…”
Suddenly the whole building seemed to tremble and the garage door slowly opened.
The prophet shouted,”Hear me, Bendy! Arise from the darkness! Arise and claim my offering!
Free me! I beg you! I summon you, ink demon! Show your face and take this tender sheep!”
Henry cried and struggled in his bindings. He saw his ax leaning up against a beam. A loud crash was heard from upstairs and Sammy screamed.
“No! My lord! Stay back! I am your prophet! I am your- AHHHH!” his begging stopped and was followed by such a scream chills ran up Henry’s body. He would never forget that scream. The scream of a man being torn limb from limb.
Henry bit his lip and resisted crying out for help.
God, I doubt you can hear me way down here...please...I don’t want to die…
The only would who would hear him down here was Bendy, and Bendy certainly would be no help. The pain from his own incisors gave him one last desperate idea. He bit the ropes and pulled on them.
Of course they aren’t going to do anything. Did you forget you don’t have the teeth of a dog or bear? They aren’t going to break.
His heart leapt when he was suddenly proven wrong. A thinner section suddenly snapped and Henry jumped to his feet.
He reached his ax in one frantic bound and grasped it in his wrinkled hands. Out of the ink puddles rose the inky monsters Henry had encountered before he had been knocked out. They growled, their jaws slack and gaping.
“I’m going to live to see another day, you fiends,” he told them. The three of them hissed in reply.
One sprang forth and Henry brought his ax down in the middle of the creature’s head. It melted away with a scream. He swung again and sliced another’s belly while the third lept onto Henry’s back. It bit down on his shoulder before melting away. Henry panted and held his reddening shoulder before remembering the real demon was still after him.
He ran through the garage door and down the corridor, slicing or leaping over boards. Henry’s heart beat furiously. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and he had spent the past few years sitting around his home doing nothing physically strenuous. He sliced the last board and let out a cry when the head of the ax snapped off, rendering it useless.
He stopped when he came to a split in the corridor. The way to his left was covered by boards and the way in front of him was a wide room with a door in the back. The floor was covered in ink.
Henry took two cautious steps forward.
A roar shook Henry’s eardrums. A huge, tall creature sprang out of the ink. His crimson smile spread across his face and his eyes were covered in ink. He was crowned with two swooping horns. Bendy.
Henry yelled nearly as loud as Sammy had in his final moments. He pivoted on his heel and crashed through boards down the other hallway as the ink demon swiped at his heels. The floor began to flood with ink and Henry’s shoes began to stick. Henry turned a corner and dove through another door, slamming it behind him and securing with a board. The door quivered as the monster tried to break it down.
Henry didn’t stop and burst forward. He was about to turn another corner when a can rolled out from it.
Henry could still here Bendy roaring in frustration.
“Hello? Someone there? I know you’re in here. Come out and show yourself!” Henry said firmly.
Footsteps, then a figure. It had long ears, black eyes, a white face, a muzzle, white gloves, and was wearing overalls, much like Sammy’s.
Henry’s stomach flipped when he realised who it was.
“Boris?” was all Henry could get out of his mouth.

Description
Henry let out a soft moan and attempted to move, only to find something restraining him. His ears were ringing and he could feel his head throbbing. He lifted his heavy eyes.
Somebody was standing in front of him, a dark silhouette. Henry scrunched his eyes shut.
They were so blurry they were nearly useless. He felt so nauseous.
I was unconscious...again? Yes...the first time was when I fell through the floor...then I was walking… he struggled to remember what had happened, I was hit on the back of my head...oh...that’s going to hurt for a long time. I hope I didn’t do any severe damage to my brain.
Henry was sitting on the dusty, wooden floor, tied with rope to a beam supporting the ceiling.
Beneath him there were black markings drawn on the floor. Chalk or soot or...ink…
They were swooping lines and stars and circles. They were scrawled sloppily, as if the person who made them was in a rush. They were like the ones near the cardboard cutouts of...him.
Henry could hardly dare think the name. He’d seen so much in the past hours...or days...whichever it was. He, Henry’s cartoon, was real. Alive. By some unholy power, he was here. Henry had seen him. His pale face with black ink leaking down it, his pointed horns and teeth would never fade from Henry’s mind. It was as if the image of the cartoon was burned into the retinas of his eyes and would always be there on the backs of his eyelids until death relieved him of the trauma.
How Henry and his comrade had loved their creation. The little creature’s laugh was like a whistle. It had always made Henry laugh. Thinking of the laugh now made him sick to his stomach.
Henry’s vision was clearing. The figure was breathing heavily. Its watery breath made it sound like something had coated the insides of its lungs, inhibiting its breathing.
The ropes around Henry loosened slightly as he moved. The figure dove forward and grabbed an end of the rope. It pulled back the rope, constricting Henry. He choked for breath. He would have screamed if he had been able to fill his lungs enough.
“There, there, we wouldn’t want our little sheep roaming away now, would we? No...we wouldn’t.” the figure had stepped into the light for a second and Henry saw his face. Henry let out another moan that was supposed to be a scream.
It was his face. The demon.
“B-Bend...” Henry wheezed and a tear dripped off his chin. The monster ignored his captive. Henry looked closer. The figure was not Bendy. It was only a mask, made from a cardboard cut-out. The paint on parts had worn away and ink had splattered other parts. The top of Bendy’s wide smile had been cut out, maybe to make it easier for its already ailing wearer to breath. The figure was wearing nothing but stained overalls that were slipping over his hips, because they were much too big. The figure’s stomach gaped under his ribs and his lanky arms dangled at his sides. And worse of all he was covered in a thick layer of ink.
“I must admit, I am honored you came all the way down here to visit me,” he said slowly,”It almost makes what I’m about to do seem...cruel.”
Henry shrank back as he thought he saw a few white teeth in the hole in the figure’s mask.
“But the believers must honor their savior,” the creature continued,”I must have him notice me.”
“Who are you talking about!” Henry cried softly. The monster shot out an arm like a rattlesnake and tightened the ropes again.
“Wait...you look familiar to me...that face…” the figure cooed. It was then Henry recognized him too.
The music director? Mr. Lawrence?
“Not now,” Sammy Lawrence growled,”For our lord is calling to us, my little sheep.”
He raised his voice,”The time of sacrifice is at hand! And then, I will finally be freed from this...prison. This inky, dark, abyss I call a body.” He spat out the word abyss.
“Shhhh…” he put a long finger to his lips,”Quiet! Listen! I can hear him. Crawling above. Crawling!”
Above the two of them there was a thumping noise in the vents. Something was indeed crawling in them.
“Let us begin. The ritual must be completed!” Sammy laughed and held Henry’s jaw with a sticky hand. Then he whispered, his masked face close to Henry’s,”Soon he will hear me...he will set us free.”
With a final gurgly breath Sammy turned and trudged to a door to Henry’s left. He closed it with a quiet creak.
Henry immediately began to wriggle, trying to undo the ropes. The pain in his head had hardly abated.
In front of Henry, about twenty feet away, was small garage door. Closer to Henry were four more beams supporting the ceiling. Horizontal boards held them together in pairs, one on each side of the garage door. Speakers were hung on the two middle beams. There were ink pipes on the ceiling. Candles and ink splatters were strewn across the floor.
The speakers made a loud static noise and then Henry was greeted with Sammy’s voice. He whispered the same poem Henry suddenly remembered hearing earlier. Yes, Henry’s consciousness had returned for a few seconds while Sammy stood over him after hitting him on the head. He had been singing the same monotone tune.
“Sheep, sheep, sheep, it’s time for sleep. Rest your head, it’s time for bed. In the morning you may wake. Or in the morning...you’ll be dead…”
Suddenly the whole building seemed to tremble and the garage door slowly opened.
The prophet shouted,”Hear me, Bendy! Arise from the darkness! Arise and claim my offering!
Free me! I beg you! I summon you, ink demon! Show your face and take this tender sheep!”
Henry cried and struggled in his bindings. He saw his ax leaning up against a beam. A loud crash was heard from upstairs and Sammy screamed.
“No! My lord! Stay back! I am your prophet! I am your- AHHHH!” his begging stopped and was followed by such a scream chills ran up Henry’s body. He would never forget that scream. The scream of a man being torn limb from limb.
Henry bit his lip and resisted crying out for help.
God, I doubt you can hear me way down here...please...I don’t want to die…
The only would who would hear him down here was Bendy, and Bendy certainly would be no help. The pain from his own incisors gave him one last desperate idea. He bit the ropes and pulled on them.
Of course they aren’t going to do anything. Did you forget you don’t have the teeth of a dog or bear? They aren’t going to break.
His heart leapt when he was suddenly proven wrong. A thinner section suddenly snapped and Henry jumped to his feet.
He reached his ax in one frantic bound and grasped it in his wrinkled hands. Out of the ink puddles rose the inky monsters Henry had encountered before he had been knocked out. They growled, their jaws slack and gaping.
“I’m going to live to see another day, you fiends,” he told them. The three of them hissed in reply.
One sprang forth and Henry brought his ax down in the middle of the creature’s head. It melted away with a scream. He swung again and sliced another’s belly while the third lept onto Henry’s back. It bit down on his shoulder before melting away. Henry panted and held his reddening shoulder before remembering the real demon was still after him.
He ran through the garage door and down the corridor, slicing or leaping over boards. Henry’s heart beat furiously. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and he had spent the past few years sitting around his home doing nothing physically strenuous. He sliced the last board and let out a cry when the head of the ax snapped off, rendering it useless.
He stopped when he came to a split in the corridor. The way to his left was covered by boards and the way in front of him was a wide room with a door in the back. The floor was covered in ink.
Henry took two cautious steps forward.
A roar shook Henry’s eardrums. A huge, tall creature sprang out of the ink. His crimson smile spread across his face and his eyes were covered in ink. He was crowned with two swooping horns. Bendy.
Henry yelled nearly as loud as Sammy had in his final moments. He pivoted on his heel and crashed through boards down the other hallway as the ink demon swiped at his heels. The floor began to flood with ink and Henry’s shoes began to stick. Henry turned a corner and dove through another door, slamming it behind him and securing with a board. The door quivered as the monster tried to break it down.
Henry didn’t stop and burst forward. He was about to turn another corner when a can rolled out from it.
Henry could still here Bendy roaring in frustration.
“Hello? Someone there? I know you’re in here. Come out and show yourself!” Henry said firmly.
Footsteps, then a figure. It had long ears, black eyes, a white face, a muzzle, white gloves, and was wearing overalls, much like Sammy’s.
Henry’s stomach flipped when he realised who it was.
“Boris?” was all Henry could get out of his mouth.