A Turn of the Key Chapter 6- A Flower For Your Loss
Click clack whirr
My daughter, who has sullied you?
My sweet darling, who has fed you food of mortal man? Has let even a speck of soil mar the white of your innocence? The gleaming surface of your wedding gown?
Save you I must, but this infernal body, oh does it creak and oh does it struggle...
Click clack whirr
What strange fate has brought him here?
The boy, the child of earth and sin, what folly has brought him here?
In his arms, my sweet daughter, but in his heart, sweet treachery- he has learned of his forefather's mistakes and brought the proof of his remorse upon his arm.
Have no worry children, for I am a benevolent god- I forgive you of all.
Her house loomed ahead, a crumbling behemoth long past its golden years. The gates stood open, welcoming them in like the crooked snaggle-toothed grin of a drunken sailor, and as Wink led her past the creaking metal he couldn't help but shiver.
Her house looked worse than Wink's own, and considering the sorry state of his own abode, that was indeed an achievement. There was a lingering cold there, something beyond the lonely whistling of the wind through cracked panes and dead grass- something that tugged at the primal part of the human psyche.
Something lives here, a thought sprang unbidden to the front of Wink's mind, and it isn't human.
He quickly shook those thoughts away. What nonsense. Poppy and her strict scientist father lived here. That was all. Her father most likely didn't have the time or need to keep the property in perfect shape; he was a scientist, after all.
These were the thoughts that tumbled about in his mind as he led Poppy up through the front door, who now had gone entirely silent. Only her eyes seemed to speak, wide and quivering, as if desperately holding back a novel's worth of words.
Slam!
The front door shut behind them with such force the entire house seemed to shake. Wink whipped around, trying to spot the culprit, and noticed two pulleys on either side whirring to a stop.
Oh, just a door mechanism, he thought. He gasped for air, only then realizing he'd been holding his breath since he'd walked onto the property.
click clack whirr
From deep within the house, a faint sound broke the heavy silence.
click clack whirr
Louder now, coming closer.
Click clack whirr
"What in tarnation?"
Click Clack Whirr
At the far end of the foyer, he heard something approach the door and stop. Silence reigned, broken only by a quiet sob from Poppy.
"F-father's here"
A voice, booming and horrible, sounded out all around them, echoing off the walls and burrowing deep into Wink's eardrum.
"You have done well, bringing my daughter back to me," it said, "And although you have tarnished her innocence with your food and her wedding gown with your filth, you have repented of your sins most impressively."
"Did you just say wedding-"
"SILENCE! Do not interrupt me with your filthy tongue-waggings. Hand her over now, and I will grant you what you desire, if it is in my power. Do it quick, lest your prolonged presence sour my generosity."
Wink wondered if he really should be doing this, giving Poppy over to this...thing? He hesitated to call it human.
Then he remembered what Poppy said.
"I'll have to do chores again, and he'll lock me in my room..."
Was it really so bad to let her father punish her how he saw fit? Did he really have the authority to interfere? After all, he knew nothing of a father's love- perhaps this was simply how things went.
"Wink...don't make me...please..."
He looked at Poppy, this girl who had given him so much happiness, who had, at least briefly, allowed him to realize that there was more to humans than the mistakes of his mother and father. He almost smiled at her, he desperately wanted to...
But that would be too cruel.
"I don't wanna take your father away from you, Poppy. Go enjoy the life you have- don't worry about me. I'll be fine."
He turned away, trying to leave her, to keep himself from seeing her face, but she hung on with surprising strength.
"You don't understand! Wink, he's going to-"
Swish
Just like that, her hand was ripped from his, and he felt a rush of air pass him as she left his side. He turned around in surprise, just in time to see her mouth open in a silent scream, her eyes pleading, before the door at the end of the hall slammed shut.
"Good child. Now, what is it you wish for in return. Quickly now, for my work awaits..."
Wink was stunned for a few seconds at the sudden turn of events, but quickly shook his head and set his jaw.
"I want you to put in a good word with the military, so I can become a weapons inventor." I'm coming for you, father, just you wait.
"You have my word. Now begone, foul child, the promised hour is nigh!"
Without another word, Wink felt the floor move from under him, whisking him to the end of the hallway, and before he knew it he was deposited rather rudely at the entrance of the house.
slam!
The front door slammed shut, and he heard five locks click into place.
He stood up and dusted himself off, already questioning his decision. He began to slowly walk out the front gate, the gate nearly snagging on his suit as it clanged shut inches behind him. He pulled out his father's legacy, a trifle given to him as an afterthought, and grimaced.
I traded Poppy for the table scraps of a failed inventor.
As if agreeing with him, the distant rumble of thunder sounded out and a few drops of rain pattered against his dusty overcoat.
It was time to head home.
The patters of raindrops quickly turned to a scattered sprinkle, then to a deluge as he finally made his way back to the farm, soaking him to the bone. As he drew near the house, a pitiful keening greeted his ears, and he let himself smile just a little as he saw the mechanical cat completely covered in rainwater, trying desperately to warm itself under the cover of the front porch.
As he sat down on the front steps he took out his handkerchief, the least damp part of him, and rubbed the cat dry as best as he could. When it was as dry as he could make it, he patted his lap and let it curl up, giving it as much warmth as he could as he pulled the paper-wrapped object out and looked at it once more.
"A crystal," he said to the purring creature, "a crystal is all that's left of my father, along with some tattered blueprints." He turned it left and right, and looked over at the mistreated document, its writings barely legible. "My father seemed to have some crazy plan where he used some sorta energy from this thing to make a beam gun." He chuckled at the absurdity, the very idea of a gun that used light to damage people. What a joke.
The cat looked at him with half-lidded eyes, its simple mind most likely more concerned with how fast and for how long it could sleep during the conversation. Wink rubbed his head and scratched behind an ear and sighed.
"I should probably go ahead and finish up whatever he started," he began, gently shoving the cat off his lap as he got up on his knees, "so find someplace to get warm, lil guy." The cat protested with a soft growl as it jumped off his lap, then stopped, staring at the rain dripping from the gutter. The cat hunkered down on its haunches, wiggled its butt, and jumped out, slapping at the big droplets as they fell.
"You really don't learn, do you," he chuckled as he watched the cat get wet yet again, "You're just like Nosy."
The cat stopped and looked back at him, its head cocked inquisitively.
wait...
"Nosy," he said again, patting the porch next to him. The cat stopped playing with the rainwater and walked up to him, nudging against his hand. He picked the cat up and set him on his lap absently, his mind going at a thousand miles per hour.
"That's the work of my father, Dr. Algernon."
"He's a well-known inventor and biologist."
"Quickly now, for my work awaits..."
"The promised hour has arrived!"
Oh no, Wink thought, a deep feeling of dread sinking into his belly, Oh no, oh no.
With shaking hands, Wink unfurled the blueprints completely, carefully setting the crystal aside. Most of it looked like gibberish, but he understood the few parts that mattered- crystal + energy = damage. He grabbed Nosy's paw and struck it lightly against the crystal, yelping as the crystal buzzed with a strange power and a massive shower of sparks rained down. He looked down at his hand and smiled through the pain as a sizeable blister formed on his palm and his own burnt flesh stung his nostrils.
Perfect.
Wasting no time, he grabbed the spare parts Poppy had brought that they never used- an extendable steel pole they planned to utilize for reaching out-of-the-way damaged roof shingles, some leftover steel wire, and a pulley, as well as some pieces of metal leftover from his old feeding device- and got to work.
Every second that goes by, every minute that passes, is another second and minute that Poppy could be in danger.
All because of me.
Squish crack
Behind the door to father's lab. A sound of sawing wood. No, something softer than wood.
She reached up to the handle. Opened the door. A strange scent, the smell of copper and something else. The keening again. Father, his smooth, silver back hunched, all of his arms precise tools poised around his subject.
Father has heard her, but has not turned away just yet.
"Daddy, what doing?" Her voice was curious, innocent, the same timbre as his patient.
"Ah, purest child, you've arrived at an inopportune time, I'm afraid," He finally turned, his eyes glowing orange with pride. "But for you, my sweet, I shall show you my greatest work."
A limp creature, perhaps feline in nature, was stretched between four of daddy's legs. Its face was feral, frightened to a state of madness, its eyes wide and unblinking, mouth held open and dry of any moisture. Its eyes darted to her, locked on, focused, and it let out another desperate keening sound as daddy finished another precise incision, this time cutting out its tongue.
"My darling girl, you are frightened, I see. You are scared of what you do not understand. But this creature will be given something you can only dream of, something you will come to appreciate as you age."
A shower of sparks, a hum of power, and with the grace and flourish of a magician, flesh seamlessly became metal.
"I will make you perfect. I will make you luminous."
She screamed in fear as her father gestured at the floor and pushed her outside, slamming the door in her face.
"My darling, I will make you immortal."
She moaned and gasped, the nightmares that had plagued her from her youth tormenting her as a fever torments its victim, coming and going in waves, leaving her breathless and racked with pain. All the while, the buzzing of her father's tools and the sparks of whatever power he used leached into her consciousness, lending further gravity to the ethereal promise of her darkest imaginings.
But as she surfaced once again for air, she felt a hand, cold as winter's ice, soothe her fevered flesh. It was soft, feminine. She leaned further into it, her eyes fluttering, trying to open, as a single thought rose to the surface of her drugged mind.
Mother?
The thought broke the surface, along with her consciousness, and her eyes finally fluttered open, pupils dilating, trying to focus. She tried to move her arm, to feel who it was who comforted her in her darkest hour, but felt nothing but a queer tingling, a strange numbness.
"M-moth-er?" she rasped. She turned just so, and the arm of her savior dropped to the floor with an unceremonious thud. Cold liquid splashed on her face and inside her mouth and coated it in copper. The tingling she felt grew stronger.
"Wh-"
Her body automatically tried picking up the arm, a sick impulse with no proper conclusion. Gathering up every last bit of strength she possessed, she tilted her head and looked past the nightstand.
An arm.
Her arm.
Her eyes widened till they hurt and her stump tingled, sending signals to a limb that didn't exist anymore, telling her to pick it up, to fix whatever was wrong with her body. A sick feeling sunk into the pit of her belly as she began to understand what was happening. She opened her mouth, closed it, tried to ask him why, but he simply watched her reaction, his eyes glowing with gleeful anticipation, waiting for the praise, the thanks he knew he deserved.
But her thanks never came, only a single phrase, so simple, so childish.
"My...arm..."
Then the last of the drugs faded from her system, and she screamed.