Psychocalypse - Phrenic Intro
#1 of A Phrenic Introduction
Welcome to the start of my Psychocalypse (pronounced syke-oc-a-lypse) story-series! This is part one of the "Phrenic Introduction." It will be introducing the various characters the series will be following the perspectives of. I'll be working to produce clean versions as well as sex-filled ones. Y'all better strap yourselves in good, because this is gonna be a wild, wild ride.
Is that thunder?
Nothing but darkness. And cold? No, sweat.
It sounds like... a landslide. I can't see anything! And... and I can't move!
No amount of mental struggling seemed to properly translate into motion. Even with the mind afire with terror, there wasn't so much as a tremor of motion. Yet the surroundings were moving, passing by with apathy towards the condition of those they swam with.
I can't see!
But wait! A crimson horizon split the darkness. Blurry, though. Too blurry to make anything out. At least it wasn't the darkness that dominated everything else. Crude semblances of shapes swam by. What strength could be called upon to do anything, shifted entirely onto expanding the sanguine dawn.
Came a voice, through the quakesome rumbling and pallid-esque rattling behind it. "Mother?" was the utterance, low yet enriched by concern. "Mother? You're bleeding, mother."
What? Who is that? I don't have a kid! Is... are they talking to me?
As if the words broke a spell, pain flooded in. The progress of chasing the bloody fog was ruined, swallowed fast once more in darkness as if it could chase away all agony.
"Don't break this one, mother, I searched hard for it. You're bleeding but you can't. Mother, please?" the voice pleaded, growing more shrill with every word, "You're bleeding, but you haven't looked at me. Look at me, mother, look at me. Don't close your eyes. Mother!"
The pain was too much. Trying to breathe, trying to speak -- trying to scream or even just weep? Impossible. A pipe-dream! _Sachma! _ It won't happen.
Help... me!
...
"She's out again!"
"Damn! And we _just_got to her!"
"The bleeding isn't stopping! I need more cotton on this wound!"
"Hold her stil--"
"I don't think there's a need for that. She's not moving. She went under again."
"Fuck! Everyone, just keep your heads cool and let's keep moving her. We're almost in the operating room!"