Motive has a minion!

Minion the Pardice

"He was an arrogant spirit in your world: there is nothing good with which to adorn his memory: so, his furious shade is here. How many up there think themselves mighty kings, that will lie here like pigs in mire, leaving behind them dire condemnation!"
Dante, Inferno Canto VIII:31-63.
Dark. So dark. Oh, god. I can't see. Help me.

The hallway stretches indefinitely before me, walls dark and punctured with scratch marks.

I can feel the sweat beading along the ridge of my back and above my lip. My tongue is a cotton ball, swollen against the inside of my cheeks.

I can't - see.

Dim lights flicker overhead. The muggy air catches in my throat and makes my breath hitch.

"Hello?"

My head is pounding. Rubbing my temples provides little reprieve. The air is suffocating. I have to get out.

I begin to make my way through the dark hallway, hand on the curvature of the wall. It is slick, covered in some thick, oozing liquid that leaves my hands coated in black sludge.

Doorways ahead. Almost there. God - so hot. Just have to keep moving. Have to get to the next gate.

When I reach up to wipe the sweat from my face my hands come back bloody. I can't tell if it's mine.

The doorways are looming closer. They're so close, gaping.

Come on, come on.

The flickering lights sputter out and I am left standing in complete darkness. Beneath my hands the sticky walls seem to writhe.

I stand there, in the dark, for what is either seconds or years, listening to my pulse jump.

thumpthumpthumpthumpthump

I'm dizzy. My head is pounding. My arm stings.

The lights come back on suddenly, painfully, twice as bright as they had been before, leaving me momentarily blinded.

When I recover my vision I am startled to see a man standing directly in front of me, uncomfortably close. Flames lick at his skin and burn the exposed flesh.

A smile stretches his cheeks like a vice grip. There's something wrong with it, something off. But there always was.

It's painted on there, disguising a familiar rage that I've seen a thousand times in his piercing blue irises.

He steps closer, until we are nose-to-nose, and grips me by my arms. He begins to shake me as his smile cracks and gives way to the nasty scowl that I remember so well.

"GONNA KEEP YOUR COOL, JOHNNY BOY?"

His rancid breath blows into my face, foul and offensive. I feel my muscles tighten.

"GONNA COUNT TO 10 LIKE YOU USED TO? HUH? DID IT EVER REALLY CALM YOU DOWN?"

I'm shaking. Balling my fists.

one

two

three

who the hell are you to treat me like --

"YOU LITTLE SHIT! REMEMBER WHAT YOU DID TO AUBREY? AM I PISSING YOU OFF AS MUCH AS SHE DID?"

He throws his head back and laughs, spit flying from the corners of his mouth.

I'll kill you

"BALL YOUR FISTS, BOY! JUST LIKE THAT! WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO, SHOOT ME TOO?"

you pig I'll gut you

When I feel the extra weight on my belt I look down. There, where there had been nothing, hangs a pistol, shiny and clean.

"MAD ENOUGH, JOHNNY? GONNA SHOOT ME, BOY? THINK YOU'VE GOT WHAT IT TAKES?"

everything is too bright too bright and I can feel the acid eating away at the pit of my stomach I can feel the hot fingers of rage shooting up my spine I

I pull the pistol out of its holster.

"YOU THINK YOU'VE GOT THE BALLS?"

It takes me less than a second to palm the pistol, cock it, shove it into his mouth, and pull the trigger.

remember what you did to aubrey

I wait for the monster that is the white ball of fury to subside. My hands won't stop shaking.

I'm sorry dad I'm sorry she was hitting me again again I was so angry please dad I'm so sorry

what the hell were you thinking boy

I don't know what came over me

No time. Have to make it to the next gate. Have to go. Something's coming for me.

I stand and look, for far too long, at the mess of brains coming from the ragged stump that was his neck.

who were you to do all of those things to me

you were just like her

why didn't you ever protect me

what kind of a father

As his body begins to fold inward, to change shape, the cracking of bones echoes through the dingy hallway. His skin blackens and his legs seem to turn to mush, morphing into tentacles. From the stump of his neck shoots out a black head with pits for eyes, grinning maniacally with a mouth full of sharp teeth. It is shaking, eyes rolling backwards into its head, and it begins to spin, screaming and bashing at the walls like some kind of deranged dreidel.

god help me

It stops mid-swing and turns its head slowly to look at me, bones popping.

"THERE IS NO GOD HERE."

And then it wraps its massive hand around me and jerks me to the opposite side of the room, where it throws me to the ground roughly, directly between two doors.

"CHOOSE."

The first is labeled, "A SECOND CHANCE," and in it I see her - aubrey please aubrey what are you doing - as she was in her youth, always so beautiful, in the kitchen of our childhood home. The second is labeled, "YOUR HEART'S DESIRE," and in it I see her - aubrey i'm so sorry i didn't mean to - bashed and bloodied and broken as she was after my accident in the kitchen that hot summer day when my anger got the best of me.

I can't manage much more than a whisper.

"What do I do?"

"CHOOSE."

"I don't - I can't - I don't know what to do."

"CHOOSE!" it screams, black tar flying from its mouth, body shaking.

I know what it wants me to do. I have to take my second chance.

I look at it and it nods, gesturing towards the first door.

When I walk through she is there, smiling as she used to, the little ingenuine smile that fooled everyone but me.

The door slams behind me and I jump.

I feel him behind me before I turn, and I am not surprised when he comes up to me, my father. The wide smile is there again, the flames crackling and peeling his tender flesh.

This is it. My second chance. This is what I have to do. The tables have turned and I am not the one who will unleash my fury. It is them. They have to have their turn. They will strike the final blow this time.

My father strikes the first hit. And then it is her, and then him, and then her, until I can no longer feel anything. By the time they grab the knives and start to cut me open, shaking with anger and releasing their pent-up rage, my vision is blurred at the edges.

Somehow, I am suddenly very small - tiny, in fact, and they have grown large. The kitchen with its bloody tile has grown so incredibly massive, and their laughter is distant and deep, and all I can see are their mouths and their razor sharp teeth as they laugh and talk and carry me through the yard and throw my disjointed body into the lake behind our house and then I am sinking endlessly, endlessly, and there is nothing but the murky depths and the water filling my lungs.

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten


Story by raw
Art by tabu
Profile by sonata