Funday Fiction #3- The Red Sin

This story I have written right here-The Red Sin- was based off the inspiration of the Seven Deadly Sins and the 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

The first part that you are about to read is a little poem that I orignally wrote myself and the rest is just the first chapter. Enjoy!

Why don’t you show them the hell you boast about so openly? Show them no mercy. Show them your wrath. Show them the insanity that control your every move.  Bring out the monster that sleeps within your heart.—The Red Sin

Have you ever felt a burning Rage, boiling you alive from within?

Have you ever screamed because the boiling, burning Rage is too much?

 Have you ever damaged the ones you loved out of Rage?

Have you seen the Rage?

The Red?

If you have, you’ve experienced Blood Rage.

Have you ever tasted the Rage?

The Red?

It’s an exquisite, wonderful taste:

It’s dangerous, sour, spicy, hot, and acidly sweet. It melts and burns in your mouth like cotton candy, making it tingle with peppered heat. It’ll wrap around your body like a warm blanket, caressing you in heated ecstasy. Like a taste from the angry, heated heavens, once you have a little taste, you’ll be wanting to more.

Have you ever seen the Rage?

The Red?

It surrounds us all:

Like blood-red clouds, crackling and zapping like electricity, pulsing hard and slow like a dying heart. Heat rolling off of you in deep, swaying waves. The more Rage there is, the larger the Red gets. Eventually, all the Rage and the Red will shroud this world into a darkness of red, furious fires, and agonizing, swelling heat.

Can you hear the Rage?

The Red?

It’s like there are bees buzzing around in your head and you can never get them out. They sting inside your head with their razor –hot stingers, giving hot, angry migraines. It can be too much, if feels as if your head will explode. There’s a deep, hurting hot pressure in the back of your skull, eyes, and neck that makes you want to claw the buzzing bee’s out.

Have you ever experienced the Rage?

The Red?

It hurts. All over. It feels as if the boiling, burning rage is eating you alive from within. It’s like you’re burning in a roaring, raging pit of fire, but you can never die. You’ll burn, and burn, and burn, and burn. But it feels so good. While it burns, you feel tingles. You’re consumed in the Red Waves and the Fire.

Do you know what the Rage does?

The Red?

Too much Rage, it can get out of control.

Too much Red, you can lose yourself.

It breaks, maims, shatters, dismembers, destroys, damages, breaks down, kills, and murders.

Everything.

Everyone.

One day, that boiling, burning Rage you feel,

That Rage?

That Red?

That Blood Rage?                                                                                

It will destroy us all and this world.

Although silent, my Rage is loud enough to be heard by the dead who have perished before my massacre. My vision is as Red as the blood of my victims. I will continue to lose control until everything is demolished. It could either mean my downfall or their execution. Their survival is never an option. This world will end fire, rage, hate, and blood.

I am Rane Heller.

I am the Rage.

I am the Red.

I am the Red Sin.

I am Wrath.

1

“Tell me about the accident, Rayne. Did you really kill your cat?”

                Sometimes I wished I was born deaf, so I didn’t have to hear what people had to say. But I wasn’t paying attention, my mind was drifting elsewhere. I was too busy staring out the window of the office, watching the rain from outside slither down the window like a waterfall of never-ending tears. It wasn’t quite eight-thirty, but the dark clouds outside make it look like nighttime all over again. It was comforting to say the least. If I opened that window and touch that never-ending waterfall of tears, what would it taste like? Salty? Would it sting and burn my skin? Will it drown and suffocate me to my very last breath?

                No, it wasn’t. At least, I didn’t think it would.

                “Rayne, where are you?”

                I tore her gaze from the window and Gave Dr. Kessler the meanest, irritated nastiest glare I could muster. His round, pudgy face was pushed into his neck, making it look like as if he didn’t a neck to begin with. I wondered if I grabbed a safety pin and poked him, what would happen. Would his neck squirt long, runny streams of blood or yellow bacterial pus instead? But like usual, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He had that stupid vague look on his face of the original psychiatrist; that patient, quiet and patronizing stare that never gave anything away. It irritated me. His pen made a few scribbles down in his notepad. What was he always writing down in that thing?

                “I just came down into the reality called Hell,” I sneered at him.

                He meekly nodded and looked down at his precious notepad. “Just checking, Rayne.”

                “Why do you do that? Why do you always say my name?” I ask, looking back at the window, not really wanting an answer. The rain was falling harder, the waterfall of never-ending tears. They were running down the window and I can almost see the water turning ruby red of blood, steaming and crackling. It was growing redder, thicker, and heavier. Pounding and pulsing hard against the class like a heart, it threatened to break through and take me in the Red.

                I blinked. There was no Red.  No blood. Just crystal clear water from the clouds. No, they were not clouds, but never-ending waterfall of tears. I gave a quick glance over at the doctor to see if he noticed any reaction. Nothing. He just stared back at me, waiting.

                “So, tell me what happened,” he said after a long period of silence. He left my name out this time. “About the accident you had with your cat.”

                The accident, the accident, it’s always about this goddamn “accident.”

                My head tiled and locks of red and orange hair blocked my vision and I examined it carefully. It looked dry and brittle. The ends were dead and split. The ‘bleach job’ I did only damaged the hair. But it wasn’t an actually a bleach treatment that caused this, but my mom decided to make a big deal about it anyway. “Not only do you look like a big head of cherries and oranges, but you ruined your beautiful hair forever!”  I was glad that it hurt her more that it did me. I just wanted change. Brown hair was so dull and boring. Besides, it was my family’s fault that I was here. Not some “accident.”

                With a deep sigh, I peeked through the curtain of hair. It created a spunky red-orange curtain and I liked the fact that I couldn’t see Dr. Kessler clearly through it. It made everything easier  to deal with him that way.

                “Why don’t you tell me about the accident, doc. Let me hear what you think about this ‘accident’ about me ‘killing’ my cat. Because I would never do such a thing.”

                Dr. Kessler tilted his head up and cleared his throat, adjusting his tie around his neck. “You want to know what I think?” he asked.

                I nod.

                “What I think is that you were angry.” That’s one way to put it because he was right. I was angry, but it was a different kind of angry that he was thinking. “You were angry and out of control of your emotions, so you killed your cat because it was the thing closest to you and you needed to find a way to release it. Am I correct?”

                No. He was utterly wrong. Dead, dead wrong.  “It was a far worse situation than me just ‘needing to find a way to let out my anger.’”

                When he figured out that his conversation was going nowhere, Dr. Kessler asked I the most heinous question I never thought I’d hear from him:

                “Tell me about the Red Sin. Who is she?"

                I flinched. I didn’t know why, but it was just her name alone that made her skin blister and crawl, spiking Goosebumps.

                “The Red Sin is a thing,” I say hesitantly.

                “What do you mean? What kind of thing?” he asked.

                I twiddled her thumbs. “An entity…” I say quickly.

                “What kind of…” he paused “…entity? Like a demon?”

                I shook her head. “No. nothing like that. She's different.”

                “How different? Care to elaborate?” he continued.

                “She's…” How can I say this without being declared a total nutcase? Oh right, I already am.  “I don’t’ know.”

                “Is the Red Sin real?”

                “Yes, “I say.

                “So, she’s not imaginary?”

                “No.” Didn’t I just say she was real?

                There was a brief silence between us except the sound of pen on paper.

                “Do you still see the visions and hallucinations?” I swallow thickly. Indeed I still experience them, but not as frequent and often as I used to. Ever since the Red Sin had fallen silent when I was discharged, everything turned normal. Sort of. I believe these are just the “side effects.”

                “Rayne?”

                My gaze fell on Dr. Kessler’s.

                “What?”

                “Do you still experience the visions and hallucinations?”

                I just had one like ten minutes ago. I nod. “Yes.”

                “Does she still talk to you?” he asked.

                I was now biting the nail polish off my fingers. When I was discharged, not only did the hallucination stopped, but so did she. I haven’t heard her say a word though I still hear other things. Must’ve been another “side effect.”

                “No. not anymore. Not anymore,” I repeated.  And I’m glad that I don’t hear The Red Sin anymore. I’m glad not to feel her raspy voice; hot, burning, and breathing down the back of my neck. No more visions or hallucinations and no more of her temptations.

                Dr. Kessler cleared his throat, and my gaze shot in his direction. He was cleaning off his glasses. His eyes were small and dark and beady and I wondered how blind he was without them. He looks disgusting. I wanted to grab his neckless fat, dig my nails in deep, and tear it wide open. I wanted to watch his blood run free and paint the walls red. Under his clothes, beneath his skin, there was movement. Things moved. His skin and fat jiggled. They moved all around his body, up into his neckless, bloody, tissue fat and into his face. His scalp.

                “Rayne, are you OK?”

                Oh god. He should’ve have talked. He shouldn’t have opened his mouth! No! Because the moment he opened his mouth, a great flood of maggots and flies burst free, flowing down his suit and lap and onto the floor. The yellow maggots twitched and squirmed on the floor and the flies filled their room with their black buzzing bodies.

                Horrified screams filled the room and they were mine. Arms flailed and legs kicked, thrashing wildly. Strong hands held me and Dr. Kessler was speaking but I didn’t hear. I couldn’t hear over the loud flies buzzing.

                “Rayne? Stop and look at me,” he ordered.

                As soon as I did, I wish I was blind. Under his clothes, beneath the skin, they moved rapidly now. They pushed out into his skin, threatening to pop. A few maggots and flies poked through the openings of his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.

                At that moment, my screams were caught up in my throat. My heart thumped hard in my chest. Blood roared in my ears. Then, the screams started all over again. My throat ached and burned. And the screams heightened a frequency as his head popped open, like a cork in a wine bottle. Maggots and flies fell into my open mouth, wriggling and squirming down into my throat, choking me. Slithered, flew, and crawled.

                “Rayne? Rayne! Stop, stop! Look at me, look at me!”

                “No!” I screamed.

                “There’s nothing there. Trust me, open your eyes!”

                And I did, hesitantly. Dr. Kessler’s face blocked my vision. No maggots. No flies. Nothing moving under his skin or clothes. Everything was perfectly normal. Sort of.

                I, on the other hand, was a shaking mess. My throat ached and burned, and I felt hot all over; skin flushed with heat.

                “Would you like some water?” Dr. Kessler asked genuinely.

                I could only nod, too lost for words. As Dr. Kessler left, I jumped from my seat, running my hands all over my body, hands shaking. Shivering, I sat back down, and lowered my face into my hands. That never, ever, happened when I had a session. Why now? There was no way that was a “side effect.” That was a full blown hallucination.

                “They didn’t have any more water bottles so I got you a soda instead,” said Dr. Kessler, nudging the cold can on my arm. Lifting my head, I took the can and popped the top. The fuzzy drink burned, but that didn’t matter.

                “What happened?” asked Dr. Kessler. “Was it another one?”

                I nod. “It was.”

                He leaned forward, interested. “Can you tell me what you saw?”

                The last time I was here, he asked the same question, and like the last time, I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to reveal what I’m hallucinating about, so what? So he can report it back and I’ll be on my merry back to the Happy House? No, thanks.  I don’t understand why he is so interested in my hallucinations, anyway.

                Knowing he wasn’t going to get another answer from me, Dr. Kessler let out a sigh, leaning back into his seat.

                “You know, Rayne. It’s mandatory that you answer my questions. I’m here to help you.”

                Yeah, right.

                “So, I’m going to ask you one more question and then we can end this session, OK?”

                Now we’re talking! So I nod again, examining my brittle, damaged ends of my hair, taking another sip of the cold, fuzzy beverage.

                “When was the last time you took your medication?”