I'd like to credit a number of influences here that have helped me to write this story, and I hope I have done them justice.
Firstly, and most obviously, this is a tribute to Newgrounds. Up to now I feel like I haven't truly contributed to this site. Sure, I have a number of posts, and I B/P with the best of them, but I can't draw, animate or make music. This is my outpouring of creativity, and I hope that the community enjoys it! Most of all I'd like to thank Tom for creating the characters, though I have taken them way beyond the bounds of that first, simple, flash.
There are a huge number of film references in here. Most notably I have used material from 'The Watchmen', particularly the graphic novel (if you have it, get it out and compare it to the journal entries!). There are obvious references to 'Jaws' and to 'Carrie', as well as numerous smaller references to films like 'The Birds', 'The Shining', 'One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest' and 'Silence of the Lambs'. I've been watching a series on the history of horror throughout writing this, so there are no doubt plenty of other references included both intentionally and unintentionally.
Finally I'd like to thank anyone with the patience to read it, and please feel free to comment. I am happy to email a copy in Microsoft word to anyone that doesn't want to work through 8 posts of white on grey text. I hope you all enjoy it- I have certainly enjoyed writing it, and please be aware that a massive amount of time and thought went into each and every sentence. Grammatical errors are 'deliberate' poetic license, to help the flow of the story (which I have imagined throughout as a film).
Also, if there is anyone out there who wishes to animate it, possibly for the next Pico day, let me know!!! I'd be happy to collaborate, but I must insist that I will only consider suitably talented animators- this is my baby, and I don't want to see it ruined by a load of MS Paint cock jokes!!
Thank you for your time, and enjoy!
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Pico's School 2: Consequences (First Part- Second Part here)
The legs were dangling enticingly, suspended as if from the hangman's noose and awaiting death. Silently, nervously he approached, smoothly slicing through the murky depths. His sleek body left hardly a ripple on the water's surface, the prey unsuspecting. The legs were flapping, kicking spray in all directions, oblivious of the imminent danger. Soon they would be kicking blood.
Carefully he maneuvered into position, waiting for the killer strike, a knife poised on its razor edge. The scent of his prey filled his nostrils, the water a succulent soup of sweat and smells. Still he crept closer, the moment drawing in like the tide, anticipation coursing through his body like a drug. His heart was hammering like a drum, pounding in his ears as the booming feet of death approached.
He struck, and screams filled the air.
"Bwahahahahahaha" Pico bawled as he shot to the surface of the pool. "What's up Darnell? Looks like you've seen a ghost! You've lost some colour; they'll drop you from the b'ball team if you're not careful!" He was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out, snot and tears mingling as he fought for breath between each hysterical convulsion.
After taking a moment to compose himself, Darnell managed to find his voice, still croaky following the ear shattering scream that had escaped. "That was so not cool, man. I was scared I'd kick your teeth out, you'd be an even uglier mug than you already are!"
"Yeah, course that was what you were scared of. I'm sure that was what you were wailing like a baby about." Pico chuckled. "Trying to act the hard man won't help, Nene saw it all, didn't ya babe"
Nene sat on the poolside, her massive frame perched precariously above the tepid water, a fragile egg waiting to fall from the wall. Drool slowly dripped from her chin and onto her white dress, emblazoned with the text "The Nurse Ratched Institute for depraved, delusional and dangerous children". Her once alive and vivacious eyes were now as blank and unseeing as her mind. Her once curvaceous figure was now little more than a blob.
"I just wasn't sure what you were up to, you psycho. Thought you might want some lovin' with little Darnell here... and anyway, we both know Nene hasn't seen much of anything since that giant Indian broke her window with his water fountain."
Darnell knew that mentioning that incident would turn Pico's attention from him. They didn't talk about how much things had changed since that fateful day at school all those years ago, but he knew that Pico blamed himself for what had happened to them. In particular he felt guilt at the fate of Nene, their best friend, now only useful as a windbreak. Now things were about to change again. This was the final day in the institute that had been home ever since their conviction and diagnosis. After all this was a place for children, and they would soon be turning 16.
Pico had fallen silent, the laughter choked from him as an iron grip descended on his heart. "You know bro, I think we should get inside and get our gear together. It'll take us a while packing for three, and anyway, I'm done with swimming," Darnell said, breaking the spectral calm that had descended over the pool like a blanket.
Pico didn't say a word; he simply moved to the side, dragging his pale but increasingly physical body from the water, leaving without a backwards glance. The world was weighing heavy on him, that was for sure, but Darnell couldn't help but worry that something more was bothering his friend. Helping Nene to her feet, he followed him inside.
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Pico's Journal. October 12th, 2010.
Carcass by poolside this morning, drool on bloated stomach. My friends are afraid of me, they see my true face. The institute is a gutter and the gutter is full of death and misery; when we leave we will take the death and misery with us. Whores and politicians put us here, the accumulated filth their sex and murder taught us, thinking only to save themselves. Tomorrow we will be free, and they will think we are saved souls. We are not saved.
We are broken.
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It towered above them, a black shadow in a darkening world. Crows squawked and swooped between the threatening turrets and towers, screaming for the blood of their next meal. Light flickered from the windows, shimmering ghosts in the wind looking down on the shoulders of its newest residents. There were no windows on the ground floor, only a vast wooden door covered in scratches and dents. It could have been a thousand years old, yet it looked like nothing short of a bomb could breach it. This was not a place people were supposed to leave. Alive at least.
Yet none of this was what struck fear into the hearts of the trio. Where normally you would expect even a brooding building such as this one to have a garden or even a pathway of some description skirting its crumbling walls, even if it was a garden of graves and a trail to hell itself, the sight that greeted them was like nothing they had ever seen.
Surrounding the building was an abyss of such complete blackness it might have been a reflection of the night sky... except at least the sky had bolts of lightning crashing down to brighten it. Nothing could brighten this void; only the crashing of waves far below were there to accompany you on the long plummet downwards.
And yet this was no dungeon. Nor was it a prison, though many would consider it and its brethren as such. This building was one of purest evil; the home of the devil himself. This building...
...was a school.
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"Please, I would like to welcome the newest members of our proud institution". Silence greeted this, the only sound that of the booming echoes chasing each other around the room. Students glanced at each other, none prepared to draw attention upon themselves and risk his wrath. Even the teachers had paled.
"I'm sure you will make them feel most at home here" the solitary voice continued. No speaker or microphone was necessary, even the bats in the tallest tower of the school could hear every carefully chosen syllable of this speech. "While we have all come from difficult backgrounds, we are united here under one common purpose; to make you the best that you can be. So with that in mind, I would like to introduce you to your new friends."
"Firstly we have Nene here. Step forwards please Nene". Even with this polite request the doors shook and plaster gently drifted from the ceiling like a fine powder of snow. Despite this Nene stood completely unblinking, drool pooling gently on the top of her ample chest. Unphased, the voice continued "Nene is here due to her peculiar sexual practices and a penchant for knives. I'm sure she will fit in wonderfully in our sexual deviants' cohort."
"Next we have Darnell. Step forward please." Slowly Darnell shuffled to the front of the stage, his feet feeling heavy and his heart hammering in his chest. "Darnell has a history of drug abuse, but primarily is here due to his enjoyment of watching things burn. He will be joining our pyromaniacs' cohort. Please make him feel welcome, and refrain from setting his clothes on fire..."
As Darnell quickly made a dash for the back of the stage and the wonderful sanctuary of anonymity, his best friend slowly stood and moved to centre stage.
"And last, but by no means least, we have Pico". Gasps greeted this announcement, and were immediately smothered by shirt sleeves and in one case a hastily ingested spider. The name Pico was capable of striking fear into the hearts of even the most depraved and violent children. "I see many of you already know of the exploits of this young man. Certainly his story has been mythologized in this and many other institutions. This child will be getting excusive membership to our most elite club; the cohort reserved only for the most deviant and dangerous individuals. He will be joining the psychopathic murderers' cohort, and I suggest most fervently that you make him feel welcome."
Every eye in the room was transfixed on the scruff of ginger hair and mask of ginger stubble framing eyes of fire, unable to turn away. Pico the vigilante was amongst them. Pico, the bringer of vengeance. Pico the murderer.
"Well that concludes morning assembly. I should remind all of you that leaving the school grounds is strictly forbidden without the accompaniment of a member of staff. Doors will be locked from 8PM to 6AM, and any student caught out of bed at night will be punished severely. These rules are in place for your own good, we wouldn't want any of you to meet with an unpleasant accident on the cliffs." At this statement a number of students shifted uncomfortably in their seats, glancing at each other nervously.
"Welcome to Overlook Rehabilitation School." These words continued to echo around the room long after the students had trooped out.
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Pico's Journal. October 13th, 2010
This school is an animal, fierce and complicated. To understand it I read its droppings, its scents, the movement of its parasites. There is good and there is evil, and evil must be punished. So many deserving of retribution... so little time. Darnell is frightened. Frightened of me? Perhaps. His 'Carrie' cohort avoids me, afraid of the face of death. Nene is happy in the 'Buffalo Bill' bunch, if you can call that happy. Fear cannot touch her now. And I find myself alone in a crowd of killers. They think my being trapped in here with them funny. They laugh in the face of the devil, yet do not see his face. Little do they know...
...They are trapped in here with me.
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Days passed for the trio in the torpor of routine and regulations. Each day was split into a succession of periods, each more tedious than the last, and rarely were they given the chance to communicate with each other in their different classes, time to relax being at a premium. Time dragged between morning classes of literacy and numeracy, and then seemed to stop entirely for afternoon sessions of woodwork, bricklaying, and computer technology. Lest the students forget that this was also punishment for their past sins, the final hours of the day were spent doing 'community service' though this rarely involved any community that they could see. More often it was simply hour after hour of digging, lifting, breaking and repeating until their arms were made of jelly and their hands were so blistered they looked like bloody frog spawn.
Darnell had initially tried to keep himself to himself, but was finding that increasingly difficult as he craved the company only friends can give. It had been days since he had last spoken to Pico, who had seemingly fallen into his own world of despair. Or at least that was what he hoped the expressionless face of his best friend meant, though he was sure he occasionally caught a glimpse of fire in the back of his eyes. He had considered approaching Pico on a number of occasions, but each time something inside held him back like a leash; perhaps his own spirit of self preservation.
So instead he had tried to talk with some of his new classmates, though they were a peculiar bunch. Jack, for example, had a habit of bursting into maniacal laughter at any moment, in particular it seemed when a teacher was present. Sonia on the other hand was quiet as a lamb, her eyes sunken and skin hanging from her bones like rags. Yet at the sight of a flame her eyes lit up and glowed red as blood, and a slow smile spread over her hollow face.
The only person Darnell found any affinity with was Carl, a rangy lad a few inches taller than himself, yet with shocking blond hair and a face as white as a sheet. He had been a b'ball player in his youth, before being accused of burning down his elementary school in a fit of rage following rejection from the team for being caught with a bottle of vodka in his rucksack. He had pleaded that his alcoholic father must have put it there by mistake, but to no avail. That was little consolation to the families of the six children who, when found, were little more than blackened ash, or the school principal who committed suicide after his lax safety protocols were so brutally exposed. In Carl, Darnell found a kindred spirit; someone with their own vices and issues, but not an evil person, or one who wished harm on other people.
So it was with Carl that Darnell was talking during community service when he finally plucked up the courage to ask the one question that had burned inside him since he had set foot in Overlook.
"Who was that crazy guy who introduced us on our first morning? I mean, man was he a scary ass fucker; I've never seen anyone shout like that!" The light was fading over the cliff-top road, with the classmates busy digging a ditch to help water run off. The wind was howling like a beast from hell and the rain falling so hard it was almost drawing blood, the occasional flash of lightening helping to illuminate the scene and aiding their work. Darnell almost had to shout for his friend to hear him.
"That would be the principal of this school, mate." Carl responded, a smile on his lips, but an unmistakable look of fear lurking behind his eyes. He cast a furtive glance at Mr. Norman, the only staff member present, and was relieved to see his attention was firmly on Laughing Jack. "He has many names, though most simply refer to him as 'Sir' or 'the Doctor'. I'm not even sure if he is a doctor to be honest, though you do see him with a stethoscope around his neck occasionally. See him for just as long as it takes you to flee in the opposite direction that is!"
"What's with that guy, Carl? I mean, why is everyone so shit scared of him? Sure, he's built like a fucking tank, and his voice could break down a door, but he's still just a teacher, right? I've never known kids as messed up as the ones here to be scared of anything, but nobody will talk about him..." Darnell responded in a shouted whisper, aware of the presence of their classmates and not sure how they would react to the thought of 'him'.
"There are stories about old Doc, mate; almost as many stories as there about your pal Pico!" Carl continued, his hair whipping across his face in the wind. "Some say he snacks on the fingers of children, though nobody here is missing any digits. At least nobody that wasn't missing them already. Others say he keeps a chainsaw and a mask in the closet in his office to deal with students who misbehave. I've even heard that he once took down Chuck Norris with just his little finger! Either way, he isn't to be messed with. Any student that does disappears without a trace."
Darnell had actually started to smile for the first time in days at the crazy rumors about the principal, but as Carl finished his face fell into a precipice of despair. "D... disappear? What the hell do you mean disappear? This is a school isn't it? Sure, it is creepy as fuck with all those empty corridors, cobwebs and weird animal heads stuck on the walls, but it is still just a school!" His voice was beginning to rise into frenzy, and some of his classmates were turning their heads towards them. "Kids can't just disappear, that is fucked up man! Just... fucked up!"
"I suggest you take it up with the Doctor if you have a problem, or do what the rest of us do," a quiet voice whispered behind him. "Keep your head down and keep out of trouble."
Darnell turned to find Sonia shaking behind him, tears silently pouring down her narrow face. Never had he seen such fear in the eyes of another person, like those of a deer struck down by a car, the life slowly ebbing from them with each passing heart beat. Terror stilled his heart with a vice like grip.
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Pico's Journal. October 19th 2010
A fat boy mocks me, blubber wobbling with his cheeks. Chris, his name. Chris the cannibal. That rolling flab all that is left of his family, butchered by his greed. Disgusting. I'd have ended him there and then had he not been summoned by the principal. A more fitting punishment, perhaps, awaits him.
Fear touched him as he left. Seems the principal is more than just King of the Vermin. He intrigues me. What sort of man wishes to rule festering waste such as this? A man like me? Interesting thought. Does he think himself safe on his pedestal? It is time for new blood. Fresh blood.
It begins.
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Darnell awoke to the echo of screams, chased down the dusty corridors by the cackles of the crows, their hunger finally sated. Curiosity momentarily overcame the ever present sense of dread that lurked in his bones. Quickly he threw on a shirt and his sneakers, shaking Carl awake in the process. Together they went in search of the screams and wails still rattling through the building, the shackles of fear lifted by the heat of anticipation.
The sound was coming from outside on the main walkway up to the school, where a young woman tasked with delivering milk to the establishment was crumpled on the ground, sobs still shaking her body as if possessed by a demon. It took the pair only a moment to decide that the rules about straying from the school without an escort didn't apply when a young lady was in such distress. As Darnell and Carl approached she looked up, tears pouring down her cheeks in a cascade, her eyes betraying the horror inside. Silently she pointed over their shoulders, her eyes widening as terror gnawed at her soul. Without a word she collapsed in a dead faint, her body protecting her fragile mind from itself.
Slowly Darnell and Carl turned, hearts pounding in unison.
The sight that first greeted them was a whirling storm of black and feathers. Dozens of shadowy figures streaked through the sky, fighting and clawing to get to their prize. Still more lined the rooftops of the building, some waiting for their chance, others already satisfied. A hundred shining eyes stared down at the pair as if daring them to steal what was theirs, willing them to try. There was always room for a second course.
The couple weren't looking at the birds though. Their eyes were riveted on the source of their cackling delight.
Suspended between two of the ancient building's seemingly medieval towers was a figure, his decency only covered by the blood. His hands had been tied to the parapet, leaving his body and legs dangling in the form of the crucifix. What was left of him anyway. The crows had done an admirable job of ripping and tearing his flesh to bloody ribbons. Barely an inch of him lay untouched. One crow was busily pecking at his empty eye sockets, trying to pull out what little remained of viscous fluid that were his eyes. Another cackled happily as it tore away his genitals, fighting its brethren as it made for a perch on which it could consume them. A third was pulling at his trailing intestines, unraveling like a ball of string.
His intestines. It was clear to Darnell that the gaping gash in his body was created by no crow. The poor soul's body had been ripped apart from throat to navel, seemingly with incredible ease. His ribs had visibly been torn apart, exposing his once beating heart in its now silent alcove. It was only a mild relief to know that he had been long dead before the feast had begun. There was no doubt in Darnell's mind that he had still been alive as he was ripped apart, able to see the final sobbing thumps as his heart beat its last.
Carl has already turned away, his face paling to a nauseous shade of green, but Darnell couldn't tear his eyes away. A number of other students had appeared and were now staring along with him at the ghastly scene above, a flock of sheep staring down the growling fox. Only the crows had the audacity to break the silence. Finally a huddled group of teachers emerged from the giant wooden doors, ushering everyone to come back inside and leave the birds to their work. One by one the students returned to their dormitories, Darnell trailing slowly behind them. Who could have done such a thing? He only knew of one person, and a more terrifying thought he could not imagine.
Chris the cannibal was no more, his life of gluttony a hefty meal for the crows of Overlook.
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Pico's Journal. October 20th 2010.
Blood on my hands. It feels good. Too long since the slime of this world met the reaper. They will fear his face now. Fat and blubber under finger nails, sticky and putrid as its owner. Funny boy won't be laughing anymore.
Still, there is something wrong here. A blacker darkness than the filth that breaths and crawls in this place. He is behind it, the Doctor. Thinks himself untouchable. His throne will be trembling now; fear will be touching the beast. Fear of consequences.
Fear of me.
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"I am proud of how we are all pulling together at this difficult time", the vast booming voice belted out across the school hall. Cobwebs were physically trembling in the corners under such an auditory assault. Eyes were once more fixated on the giant figure at centre stage, his face shrouded in the shadows that haunted the building even on the brightest of days. The only thing glimmering in the morning light was the stethoscope slung around his tree trunk of a neck. "We have all suffered a terrible shock at the loss of poor Christopher, and I fully understand if any of you wish to seek solace or guidance by coming to speak to me. After all we aren't all accustomed to death here, despite our interesting backgrounds."
Pico sensed that the eyes of the Doctor had momentarily paused on him at the climax of this speech, though he couldn't be certain. He wasn't alone in feeling this though, as other eyes took sneaky glances in his direction, quickly darting away like frightened kittens lest he catch them in the act. Pico's eyes didn't shift from staring into the shadows where the Doctor's eyes were lurking. He wondered what he was thinking; wondered if he knew or just suspected the truth; wondered if he was scared.
"Anyway, we can't dwell on such issues," the Doctor continued. "Rest assured that every effort is being made to find out how exactly this terrible tragedy came about. Some of you may be asked about your whereabouts on the night of the 19th, and I implore you to be as forthcoming as possible with any information you can give. The culprit will be found, and when they are it will be the worse for them."
"It was YOU! I know it was you! You... you... MONSTER!" A wild shriek exploded from the back of the hall. Gasps accompanied the sound of scraping chairs as every person in the room turned to catch a glimpse of the lunatic who had spoken out.
Sonia stood alone, quivering like an autumn leaf but standing firm as every eye in the room turned to her. Her brown hair was thrown back from her face like a mane, hollow face radiant despite the fear clearly lurking in its depths. Anger welled up inside her like a drug, and fire lit her eyes. The students around her had forced their seats away in every direction, panic setting in as they pushed and shoved, desperate to distance themselves from her as if she was a ravenous lion rather than a small girl. She was on her own. Defiantly she continued to stare straight at The Doctor, challenging him to deny her accusations.
The sound of silence fell on the hall as every student held their breath. Fear was mixed with anticipation at the oncoming storm, and tension screamed through every inch of the room. Finally, just when the atmosphere felt like it might explode at any moment, the Doctor spoke...
"Young lady, you demonstrate exactly what I am talking about most beautifully. We are living under the extremes of psychological pressure today, and I am sure you are not alone in struggling to contain your emotions. While I appreciate your concern that perhaps I could have done more to ensure your safety, I am fully committed to protecting both your physical and mental well being. I invite you to come and visit me in my office at the conclusion of this assembly so that we can have a quiet discussion and I can help to put your heart at rest."
While the telling silence seemed to go on for an eternity, in reality the statement was only allowed to hang in the air for a moment. "I'm sorry to say our time is up this morning. Please do your best to make the most of your day at this tragic time, and try not to dwell on the past. Once again I remind you that my door remains open to any who wish to speak to an understanding ear. Teachers, lead the students out please".
With that the spell was broken. The room let their breath out as one, both relieved that the storm had passed and disappointed at the lack of carnage left in its wake. Sonia, still shuddering violently, was helped from the hall by one of the teachers, tears silently trickling down her cheeks and onto her blouse. Gazes remained fixated upon her, unable to tear away from one so brave and yet so fragile.
As she disappeared from sight one pair of eyes lingered on her longer than the rest, glowering from under a mop of ginger hair.
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Rumors abounded about the fate of Chris. It had quickly been discovered that he had paid a visit to The Doctor on the day of his demise, and that nobody had seen him since, alive at least. Common opinion placed the blame on the principal (dubbed, somewhat unoriginally, Doctor Death by some), though none were as vocal about it as Sonia had been. Cowards are common amongst the damned. What most of the discussion was about though was why he had chosen to display Chris to the school in such a way? What could he possibly have gained from scaring that poor girl as white as her milk? Surely he didn't feel a need to be more feared by the students, many of who struggled to even speak when his name was mentioned.
Darnell hadn't been sleeping well the last few nights. He alone in the school did not suspect The Doctor, though he hoped fervently that he was behind the gruesome murder. Certainly it wasn't impossible, but the fate of poor Chris had all the calling cards of his friend; his best friend, who he would have trusted to the ends of the Earth just a week previously. There was something wrong with Pico; he could see that darkness lurking and crawling behind his eyes. Darnell had seen that darkness before. The only words that had passed between them in the last two days had been cursory hellos, but Pico had clearly been distracted and had quickly made off in another direction, making some feeble excuse about work to be done. Carl had joked that Pico was secretly working at translating the Necronomicon into ginger. Darnell hadn't laughed.
Yet despite his suspicions, there was something else that was bothering him even more. Nagging fear had crawled up his spine like a spider and was now chewing at his mind with increasing venom, refusing to let him go.
Sonia was missing, and Darnell was terrified that she wouldn't stay missing for long.
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"Hey man, do you really think that crazy ass principal could be behind Chris's murder?" Darnell and Carl were sitting down to lunch in the cafeteria, students milling around like a flock of sheep, hunting for the elusive seats that meant they didn't have to sit next to a psychopath. As such many resorted to simply eating stood up, a succession of dominos propped jauntily against the walls, eyes scanning the room nervously for the person who would tip their delicate balance.
"For the thousandth time mate, if the Doc did it I think he would have made more of an effort to cover it up, don't you? While I am all for a bit of gossip, everyone is just guessing about what happened. It could just as easily have been you for all I know! You're name isn't secretly Chuckie is it?" an exasperated Carl replied. This wasn't the first time this conversation had come up. "And before you say it, I don't know if it was your mate Pico either! God knows, I'd probably go on a killing spree if I was ginger too though!"
"But what about Sonia, man? Why has she not come back to class after accusing the principal? Fuck, she isn't coming back. She isn't fucking coming back". By this point Darnell was speaking in a shouted whisper, meant more for his own ears than for his friend's. Images kept whirling around in his head of Sonia's stricken body being pecked at by crows, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't shake them off. They were like a parasite, eating away at him until there was nothing left but madness.
"Enough already! There is nothing we can do for Sonia, so there is no point worrying about her. I'm sure she is fine, just too embarrassed to come out of her hiding place. How about changing the subject? What did you think of those Lakers last night?" Carl knew that Darnell would respond to a conversation about basketball, even in his current messed up state.