A man bumped into Mortuus as he stared at the picture of The Stitcher on the poster. Its awful smile was sticking out like a sore thumb on the colorless page. 48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBPLhYjBfi9
"WATCH IT, BUB!! DON'T YOU KNOW TO BEWARE THE STITCHER!! MOVE ALONG!!" The man shouted angrily before speedwalking off with an annoyed expression, not even noticing the bandages on Mortuus's face. Mortuus stood there puzzled as to what he meant. Why was he so angry at him? Who's 'Bub'?
So many questions, but no one to answer them. All these worries and no one to calm them. Tears silently fell; no one understood him; most heartbreaking of all, though, no one cared to. As he stared at the ground, he noticed a small tin box with a lovely floral card design on its metallic surface.
Mortuus opened the tin curiously. A strange cylinder was inside with a note on top. 'Hope this cannabis pen finds you nicely and calms your anxiety. Come to my shop anytime you need a new cartridge, free of cost, my friend!'
Mortuus stared at the pen, twirling it in his hand with fascination. "How do I-" His finger pressed against a button, and it lit up. The button lit up, and the cartridge made a quiet hiss as the contents at the end began to heat.
He parted the bandages on his face, putting the tip of the pen to his lips and drawing in a breath. His lungs filled with smoke and forced him to cough, the smoke flowing out in a large brown cloud. He huffed it out with pain; the liquid in its tip had good taste but a powerful kick to it when heated.
He took another puff, the smoke becoming a bit clearer this time as it seemed to clean his lungs. The feeling was amazing and so new. As he puffed it, time slowed to a near-stop, the world feeling like it was just a show and not reality.
Another puff. Another one. Each one made Mortuus's mind feel clear for once. It felt so relieving, like the chains that bound him to his worries and anger had been shattered. Mortuus walked down an alley, feeling more and more alive with each puff of the cart. He kept walking past an old oak that was strangely ajar, with its roots uplifted and a significant slash in the trunk; he couldn't quite put his finger on why it was so familiar.
A tall and dark figure watched him from behind the oak with watchful eyes that seemed to know of tragedy and pain. "Hello again, Mortuus." It spoke through an unmoving mouth; its voice was the very same one that was guiding him.
"Who the fuck are you??" Mortuus shouted with slight fear, pocketing the pen in his trenchcoat. The figure's presence was one of calm and panic, but Mortuus couldn't quite decipher which. Both felt equally strong and only reinforced his fear of the figure.
"That's not important. YOU are, though. You were brought back for a reason. SAVE US!!" The voice commanded before vanishing with the figure. Silence filled the air again, and everything seemed normal. Was it real? Did he actually see the figure, or was he hallucinating? He couldn't tell which seemed more frightening to him.
Mortuus stood in the darkness, staring where the figure had stood, muttering to himself. "Come back... Come on... Come back." More silence. The figure had left, or maybe it never was there. It was possible he just imagined the whole horrid thing.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
