Warp Ch01

Warp Ch01

A Story by KeiyBladetoTheMaX


I’ve got to tell you the truth.

They say I am, but I’m not.


I’m not crazy.


I close my eyes.

I’ve learned not to scream.

It gives them too much power.

Too much control.

                I find that even my tears radiate currents.

The small pricks of amplified lightning wind their way into my stomach"spilling acid all into my soul.

                But it would be over soon.

                Wouldn’t it?

                ‘Happy Birthday’.


                A sharp ringing in my ear brings me back into the world I tried to desperately to escape.

       It’s not the one with the colors and the light"It’s the one that no one claims that they can see.


                The one where the voices"oh God"the one where the voices call me.

                Where there’s nothing but inferno and hatred scorching the land.

                Where nothing but I am on fire.


                And they encircle me"they dance around me with their devilish smiles and their eyes as red as the crimson etched in the pits of hell. They resemble all I’ve ever hated. They are all I’ve ever hated.


                ‘Nobody else but you did this to me.’

                ‘You got me here.’

                ‘You killed them.’

                ‘Not me.’

                ‘Not me.’

                ‘It was you.’


                Laughs echo around me and the security I once felt in my core drops, leaving me as a hollow shell. But was I ever complete to begin with?



‘We are you.’

                ‘Your rage feeds us’

                ‘Your delusions empower us’

                ‘Your desire perfects us’

                ‘We are you’


                I scream. It is drowned out by the maniacal laughter swooning around me, the fierce murky waters bringing me under.

‘We are you.’ They say. ‘We are you.’

           My vision turns to see the white room now.

                                                Heads turn to watch me.

           Eyes flock to mock me.

This is it.

I’m going to die here.

                                Please, God"please don’t do this.

I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I don’t want to.

                                Have mercy"please have mercy.

                Can’t you erase this hell I’ve been pitted into?

                Can’t you erase the hate the world casts upon me?

Please God, oh please.


                The Sun. How did it look again?

                And the Moon? What were those sparkles around it?


                The jolts stop and my body cringes in the release of the energy.

                I want to run"I want to yell and hear my own voice"I want to roll down hills of grass and just fade into the night sky like"that’s what it was. Like a star. I want to jump into the air and float like one of those balloons; away as if a distant memory. Escape.

                I want to escape.

                                Metal binds me to a chair "a cold chair"cold like the first cell’s floor.

                                Cold like the gazes they give me.

                                Cold like the ice they drown me in.

                The cuff around my neck restricts me"keeps the worries that I try to swallow present.

                                My lungs. They’re still intact.

                                The cold helm. It’s still on my face.

                Please God. Don’t do this.

It wasn’t me.

No one believes me.

But you do.


You know that I didn’t do any of that.

                I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

      Eyes watch my demise.

      They want me to fall.

They wait for the maggots to feast on my corpse. They wait for me to rot in hell.

                They watch with solemn faces, they watch with eyes like an owl’s. Glass separates me from them. The glass is the only thing keeping them from massacring me. Glass is the only thing that keeps me from slaughtering them.

                Ignorant people. Dumb a*s, motherfucking, ignorant people.

                Inserting their two sense on s**t that doesn’t even concern them. Plaguing my life with the mishaps and scrutiny of their own. Why me? Am I the scapegoat for this society? Do you care who gets blamed as long as someone bears the burden?


                I find my mother in the crowd. 


                She brought me into this world. And for that I hated her. She felt the same about me. The abomination that she bore; a monster accidently conceived from her very womb.

                Everything flashes before your eyes at death.

                I know this now.

                Because now, at my execution"now, I see it all.

                I see my failure"I see where my fall from sanity. I see how I gave in"gave in and let them win. I see it. I see it all.


                To the right of me in this small enclosure they locked me in is an object no larger than, and resembling a teddy bear. It floats in the air, ears sharp like daggers with a single eye popped out like a broken doll’s. Stuffing resembling intestines drip out its open cuts and stitches, and its limbs are barely intact.

                “Aw. Are you crying?”

                It’s voice is too high-pitched to be ‘real’.


                They told me it wasn’t real.

                They drilled it into me"held my eyes open and dropped it in me"clenched my mouth and drowned it into me"smothered the very idea into all I looked in for security.

                There was never a given moment to forget.

                Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over.

                He wasn’t real.


                I tear my gaze away and observe the crowd beyond my confinement.

                “It’s my birthday….” I mutter, voice almost inaudible even to my ears. I can barely recognize it as my own. But the microphones"the viewers. They can hear it. They can hear every single word.

                “It’s my birthday.”


                “Well isn’t this one hell of a surprise party?”

                His name is Odon. I can’t erase him from my mind.

                It’s not his fault either. He didn’t get me here.


                I let out a short laugh at the misfortune and hear a voice on the intercom address me.


                “You know why you’re here.” It says.

                “I don’t know why you put me here.”

                “Don’t play games.”

                “What is there to play? I’m dead to you anyway.”

                                I catch my father’s eye through the audience. He stands, back against the farthest wall possible, face hidden under a military hat. Expression readable even from here. Disappointment. No. that’s too good. Utter disgust. Utter detachment. He did, after all, sign my execution certificate.

                “I’m dead to you too, aren’t I, daddy?”

                The whites of his eyes show, embarrassment spreading across his face. People in the room turn to look at him. I can hear him pleading with the fates. ‘Don’t let him talk to me. Kill him. Kill him already.’

                 “You’re gonna let them kill me, daddy? You’re gonna let them take me away?”

                A smile toys with my lips. I can feel him squirm like an ant under the magnification of the Sun’s pulsing rays. I can feel it. And it makes me feel good. It makes me feel like I still have control.

                Odon snickers in my ear, leaning on my shoulder.

                “What’s with the personality switch? Seriously Z, sometimes you freak even me out.”


                I laugh"a movement that jolts my whole body against the metal.

                Why do I?

                I can’t control these emotions.

                I can’t control anything anymore.

                I just am. I just am here, speaking my mind, wanting.

                Wanting these fleeting feelings I can’t put a name to, lusting for destruction.

                Why do I?


                “Can we get this over with already?”


                I hear my mother’s voice come on over the intercom.


                “Are you that eager to die? Zephyr, listen to me! There’s still time!”

                I laugh now with purpose. She’d expect me to willingly believe such a lie?

                “Time? Time for what?”

                “To confess your sins; to die with a clean conscience.”

                                I laugh uproariously once again.

A clean conscience.

The idea sounds as whimsical as escaping my fate.

I hear her voice shudder through the intercom.

                “Z? Can you hear me? It’s mommy, okay? I’d never do anything"anything at all to hurt you.”


                My laughter stops immediately, as if an internal switch in my brain was just flipped off. It turns into annoyance. It is entirely mine. It has purpose. She engineered this. She planned this. From the beginning"from the very beginning she wanted this. 

“Stop lying. Just stop it. I’m tired of you.” I try and free my hands, the anxiety and frustration compelling me to move"to lunge"to kill"to destroy.

                “You want me dead"You want me dead!!” My eyes flash around the enclosure continuously as I search for the witch. “You let them take me! You……you did this to me!”

                The monsters from the dark place arise again, manifesting within the crowd and staring at me with delight. They whisper to me. They’re always there, telling me things"making me do things. But they aren’t me. They just can’t be.

                “Get them away from me. Don’t let them do this….”

                The demons clamor against the glass wall, pressing their sharp smiles to mine.

                ‘We are you. Your hatred. Your rage. Us. For so long, you’ve hidden. For so long, you’ve submitted to the weak. These people have no control over you. We could easily demolish them  all. Isn’t that what you want? Let us help you? Let us become you….’

I feel my eyes go in and out of focus, flipping between the room full of people and the room full of darkness. I hear Odon in the background of my plagued subconscious.

“Is it them again? Are you gonna let them go?”

I shake my head and chant in denial. My mother’s voice still rings clearly.


“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” She wallows in falsified sympathy. No one could possibly ever express emotion toward me. “I’m so sorry you never got the chance to be normal. I’m sorry.”

The microphone collects fuzz before being switched over to my father’s voice. It’s supposed to be soft and sympathizing. Not for my sake"but for everyone else’s. But how I hear it, it will always be that nagging voice in my conscience screaming with authority.

“Zephyr…there’s not much you can do now. This is it.”

I find another laugh gurgling in my throat, threatening to throw up everything I’ve held in.

“There was never much I could do.”

He wastes no time in finding a response.

“A lot of people came to see you today.”

I snicker and look away at Odon skeptically. He watches in bemusement as my father speaks.

“They want answers.”

            This whole thing. I can tell what is behind it. This skit is press coverage of my life, my life. The horror movie gone wrong. I could tell what the media wanted. I gaze at the camera now. No expression or thought comes to mind.

          They want the story. How a perfect little rich boy raised in catholic academy turned into one of the most notorious psychopaths in the history of the world. That story. They want me to tell them ‘Why did you kill my Emily, my sweet darling Emily, she was only so young, she was just about to graduate, and oh, my Emily, she had a smile like gold, and Emily, a heart like steel, so why did you, why did you kill my Emily’?

“Answers?” I spew, the joke almost too much to laugh at.

There’s many more’ Emily’s than I can explain. That I can recall.

“The whole family came too. Can you see them, Z?”

 They are impossible to miss.

There they stand near the front of the room, all five of them.

I see Jasper’s blue eyes mocking me. Quiin’s pristine smirk. Sawyer’s bout of accomplishment.

They’re laughing. They’re laughing.

Pristella’s painted face embodied by the light. Imogen’s nose twitching in humor.

I never had any attachment to my siblings.

             They plagued my mind just as the monsters did.

 I try to fight the images that now appear in front of me. The monsters grind all on my legs, holding onto my feet. I can’t move. These things constrict me. I want to escape. With all my inhuman jolting, I find that one of my arms erupts from the metal trappings constricting me. I lunge for the glass and try to break it with that single clenched pale fist, that single obscure hope of heaven. 

Before I can even breathe again, the executioner runs over to grab my wrist. Even from behind the glass, I can hear the crowd.

‘Get it over with already, kill him already, kill him already’.

My father’s voice perks up again, this time rushed; his inner thoughts coinciding with the audience’s chants.  More noise erupts from the speakers, followed by frenzied voices which I can immediately recognize as the numerous so called ‘victims’ families’.

One million voices are speaking at once. They slur into one long speech in my mind.

“Why would you do such a thing, You took away my baby, my precious baby girl"you killed my son, you monster"the devil himself"you did this, look how many people you did this too"look at us and how we’re suffering"they should’ve killed you a long time ago"you should have never been born, I’ll piss on your grave, you little prick, you don’t deserve a funeral"you don’t deserve this chair"did my niece ever get the opportunity to choose how they died you stupid f*g--- I hope you rot"I want your body to decompose like the waste it is-- ”

“Answers.” I respond. They annoy me. It’s the ones that want you to look at them"look at me and all the misfortune you put me through, jackass. Look, here, look now, now give me answers.

I could tell you now.

I could tell you about what REALLY happened"how your ‘angels’ provoked my demons.

But they’re not mine.

These shadows came from somewhere.

It really wasn’t my fault.


I didn’t want to be is way.

I wanted to be a doctor.

I wanted to find the cure for diabetes.

I could tell, I could tell you this now.


But I won’t.

“I killed them because I felt like it.”

Your little scapegoat will take these secrets to the grave with him. Spread my blood over your doors and rejoice when I’m gone.

But you will never know the truth.

The audience beyond the speaker erupts into a pit of malice. They curse profoundly and with their words try to break what is left of my soul. It blends together to make raw white noise in my ears, echoing and rattling my body as the electricity did.

The shadows beckon me again as my annoyance rises. They come to egg me on; they come to completely destroy me. Those yelling fools don’t know a damn thing.

It could be far worse.

If I lost it.

‘You know they’ve no idea of what they’re dealing with….’

‘Show them how you showed the others’

All of this echoes in my mind. It roars, it blazes, it plagues.

Stop, stop, stop.


‘That’s right, with us you can have immeasurable strength, strike fear into the very pits of their hearts"kill"kill them all.’

I once again free a hand, both hands this time, from the metal straps.

I told myself this wouldn’t happen again.

But here they were, fueling me and making it feel right.

I snatch at the air before a team of executioners stationed in the room struggle to strap me back down.


This time when they strap me back in, a leather mask is tied to my mouth to prevent me from making threats with the vulgar profanity I wish to use. I try and bite through it, but one of the men place a sturdy hand over my lips so that I can’t move my teeth.

               Odon watches from the corner, his eyes wide, completely detached.

 I try and throw the group off of me and continue flailing as much as I possibly can with the restraints. I still try and yell at them"every word coming out as a mumble.

        I can sense my father’s eyes on me.

       I can see a single tear dropping from my mother’s eye.


       I hear the door to my right open. I snatch my head over to see who it is.

   The warden. It’s the warden.

       I know the crowd relishes this moment. I know that they’ve waited all day"all week"all month just for this man to walk into this room with his high toed leather boots on.

       And I must say that I’ve been awaiting the preacher’s presence as well.

       Lester Collins.

      I know him on a first name basis.

     The man was crazy to show any emotion toward me when we met.

     I consider it a weakness.

      I exploited it from the start.

     Here he was now, sad to see me go.


His mouth is pressed into a tight smile of regret, his crinkled bronze skin rumpled with his expression.

He holds papers in a single bound manila folder.

He holds my history in his right palm.


                The group of executioners succeed in pushing my upper back completely against the chair, using even more restraints to leave me no lead way to break out. They still feel the need to weigh my body down with their hands.

                 Collins paces over to me, his clacking boots deafening the noise behind the walls.


                He nods to me in greeting.

 I stare at him.

He paces over a bit closer and inhales, opening the folder.

He doesn’t look at me anymore.

“You know what I have to do, right?” He leans in to whisper something to me, inaudible to the audio recorders. “God can still grant you redemption. He hasn't turned his back on you. May he have mercy on your soul.”

He leans back on his heels to begin the traditional execution procedure.


“Zephyr Alder, you have hereby been sentenced to death by electrocution by the state of Florida. You have been charged and found guilty of fifteen counts of murder, two counts of terrorism and three counts of arson.”

He pauses to take a breath before reading on.

 “You have been charged and found guilty of the murder of an officer, property damage of over five hundred thousand dollars, and the murder of seven psychiatric ward officials. Your verdict is death. Is there any final statement you would like to make?”

I find myself taking solace in the comfort of the chair.

At least it would be all over now.

At least I wouldn't have to listen to any one"anything anymore.

But I’m not sure.

I don’t have a choice.

I nod my head.

The leather strap is loosened from my teeth a bit.

           “Don’t kill me. It’s my birthday.”

The grip is tightened even more so than it was before.

I watch the man in the hood walk over to the large switch in front of me.

They place a cloth over my head.

It covers my eyes.

I cannot stifle my breathing enough to make it seem silent.

This is it.

This is it.

I really am going to die.


I feel the electricity way before I hear it.

A full-fledged plethora of shock and awe wraps me in its grip, shivers up and down my spine as if booming base beating to an illogical tune. The world is black. In my scattered thoughts, I see a vague light. I’ll know it’s over when that light engulfs everything.

I’ll know when it’s over.

My heart explodes from my chest; my brain rattled and cooked in my cranium roars as my spine slides out of place, surely sticking out and puncturing my lungs in the process. My blood is air and the air I manage to take in is blood.

My eyes"

They aren't there anymore.

None of me is anywhere.

Just electricity everywhere"


God, please,

I’m sorry,

I’m so sorry--- 

© 2012 KeiyBladetoTheMaX

Author's Note

I started re-drafting this recently. I started it in seventh grade and finally came back to it two years later after some writing courses. I hope my descirptions as well as pace improved. Comments? :) credit to sharmz on deviantart--the eye isnt designed by me, its a logo for 30stm but i thought it would make things look cool:)

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whoa! please excuse any misquotes or whatever............... o.o i didn't mean for that to show up...it may have something to do with this formatting 0.o

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Added on October 27, 2012
Last Updated on October 27, 2012
Tags: electric, chair, death, execution, horror, start, chapter, one, warp, gruesome, fiction, physiological, delusion, fear, monsters, glass



Kyoto, Kansai, Japan

Hi! I'm Keiana Wilkerson, but I prefer to go by Keikeiy. Writing is a huge part of met hat I just can't seem to sever from, no matter how hard I try. Sometimes, I face problems with my writings and fl.. more..