Angelic voices bounced off of the marble and gold in the grand theater. The entire interior was drowned in a thin veil of smoke from all of the burning candles, adding to the ambience of the play. Music echoed from the shadows in the orchestra pit that swallowed the silence and spread into every crevice of the room. Everyone who watched had one thing in common besides wealth and prejudice. They didn't expect much from a group of common folk who were not as educated as the upper class audience. So to see them pronounce every word with perfect clarity and with no accent came as a shock to them. The singing was also astounding to them, seeing as they had such low expectations for a play created by a traveling circus troupe. Jingling little bells pierced the guttural moans of the cello as the harlequin frolicked to the stage with glee and whimsy. His tight diamond-patterned attire was complemented by long cloth faulds around his waist and a cape to look like a knight while still retaining the harlequin motif.

  They enjoyed his performances greatly, in tune with the rhythm he wrote in the script of the play. When the scene asked for laughter, he heard the audience's cacophonous giggle. When he wanted them to gasp, he ripped the air out of their lungs. It flowed smoothly like clockwork before him while he was able to enjoy the freshness of their expressions. Adone also knew that when Pinocchio would appear on stage, the crowd's hearts would immediately succumb to him. Just like all those before him, the audience also became amazed by the doll's vitality, growing more enamoured with every action. What Adone didn't plan in the script was Pinocchio's nervosity, but something more than that flickered in his eyes.

  Words and gestures flowed smoothly out of him, but even Adone noticed the slight electricity in his smallest actions. He maintained it quite well until he gazed at the audience through the hazy veil, seeing how their eyes sparkled like the candles on the ceiling and wall. A profound feeling of alterity invaded him, extinguishing all other sensations from him for a moment. He still stood up without knowing how and studied their eyes without knowing why they burned his insides. The wheels within him felt as though they clung together like honey, ripping one another out of their place with slow cruelty. He continued to perform as if nothing was happening, but Adone could tell that the doll was struggling. Every time his eyes met Mangiafuoco, who stood behind the curtains, an awful light would flicker, one that echoed the sparks of terror flying in his heart.

  Pantalone, played by Mangiafuoco this time, slept deeply in bed while the sneaky harlequin, with bells and all, slipped into the room with a bottle of poison. The cello accentuated the harlequin's evil actions as he made Mangiafuoco drink the whole bottle, which he did with suppressed eagerness. Euphoria was sheltered behind the wide grin of Adone as he fed him the poison. That same euphoria gave his normally tragic scene a bit too much joyous passion instead of the tearful sadness it should've had. But the audience didn't mind, as they were too absorbed in the play and went along with its foreign flow. The refreshing new style that the play adopted was very welcome to the nobility who grew bored from the common tropes that were going stale. Twists and turns and unexpected nuances delighted the people, but no one in the theater was ready for what was about to happen next.

  The haze of the candle smoke held a hint of starlight before all of the flames in the theater became a greenish blue and soon after grew unimaginably large. It became so large and powerful that it slowly spread through the entire place, turning the metals into melted candle wax, burning everything and everyone in its proximity into a crisp and or horrible sludge. Breathtaking music got quickly replaced by blood curdling screams and sounds of abject fright and shock. Everyone in the theater scrambled to leave as quickly as possible as all of the parts of the buildings' insides were getting consumed by the colorful flames. Adone's eyes widened from the sudden tragedy unfolding before his eyes. He grit his teeth with blinding hatred and chided, "Fox fire... Those bastards!"

  He frantically looked around him before shouting Pinocchio's name. Another deeper voice shouted his name instead, pulling him to the ground with the help of a supernatural force. Crimson threads appeared around his wrists and all over his body that tightly wrapped themselves around his wrists and throat, piercing his flesh to create a blanket of blood over his neck. Mangiafuoco gripped the air with a fury so great that his fingers began to twitch and hidden veins began to show. The large man held red threads between his fingers and controlled the now helpless harlequin that struggled to grasp for a sliver of air amidst the smoke. He made himself clear to Adone as he dragged him across the floor with the red threads.

  "You think that you're so fucking clever, don't you?! Not only do you try to poison me, and fail to do so, but you also decide to burn the entire theater! I'm really fucking happy for you! I really am. You want to know why? Because this'll be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to a little friend of mine. Oh, how I can't wait to see you to get to know each other."

  Just before he dealt one final blow, Pinocchio's small frame leapt towards Magiafuoco's hands, loosening the threads around Adone for a bit. He only gave himself a second to be surprised before using his other hand to rip him off of him and throw him next to the harlequin. He saw how desperately Pinocchio tried to get rid of the threads woven through Adone, and to Mangiafuoco's dismay, he managed to grasp a few of them, something he never thought could be done. He tried to hide his surprise, but Adone noticed it flickering on his face clearly. Aware of the vulnerability he just showed, the tall man grit his teeth and pulled the harlequin into the air, twisting an awful scream out of him. He pulled him up higher and higher like a marionette until Pinocchio couldn't touch him anymore. All the little wires fused with the ether, impossible to touch for even the mysterious doll. When he turned his wooden head around, he saw the redness of Mangiafuoco's eyes, expecting them to burst open from the intensity. The rows of large wolfish teeth below his wicked eyes sparkled under a warped grin.

  "Don't look at that little monster with pity, Adone. It's because of him that those two fox bastards are loose. Isn't that right, wooden boy?"

  Pinocchio looked up at Adone, hoping to dispel that idea from him, but he believed every word of it. The weight of his gaze crushed the wooden boy, who saw the light he once saw him as succumb to the dark that pervaded all over things. Crushed by the disappointment, Pinocchio let go of his pants leg and stepped back, feeling as though his disappointment traveled from body to body, sending tremors through every fiber in the doll. But its weight didn't leave him for as long as he looked up at him. As the disappointment and shock turned into hate, that's when Pinocchio's guilt turned into thorny shame which channeled the heat of all the fire in the room into him, burning a crucible of loathing within himself.

  A sea of sorries poured out of the doll's mouth, some of which reached Adone. But before he could see Adone's face soften, Mangiafuoco tightened the threads around his body and mind, pulling a scream out of his lungs. He then pulled a broken beam from the ceiling to make it fall onto Pinocchio, pinning him to the burning theater as he carried the harlequin elsewhere. Fire the color of his eyes danced all around him, together with smoke and shame.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  ° ° °

  A dripping sound woke him up. In the dark and damp cell, Adone felt a cold, wet veil over his skin. Bleary eyed and still unable to receive all physical stimuli, he slowly regained consciousness by focusing his attention on the pitter patter that, at first, sounded like rain from a distance. As his awareness awakened, he quickly noticed that the cold veil enshrouding him was his own blood, which was dripping from the diamond-patterned scars on nearly every part of his body besides head. Fully awake, he found himself suspended in the air by red strings that were wrapped around him, tautly pulled to every corner of the cell to make his body remain in the air. Any minor movement resulted in a new stream of blood, so he remained still, carefully breathing in a way as to not lacerate his body even deeper. A desperate impulse conquered his mind, forcing him to think of this as a simple nightmare, despite what his sensations showed. He begrudgingly acknowledged the fact that it was reality by witnessing the wicked smile contorting Mangiafuoco's face behind the bars of the cell.

  "Ah, I see that you're awake, my favorite harlequin," he said in a disgusting jovial tone. "How was your nap? Are you ready for your next assignment? Your last one." he added bitterly at the end.

  "You. Piece. Of. Shit," Adone slowly uttered to not allow the cords to dig any deeper into his skin. Every word carried thunder's echo. Seeing the way Mangiafuoco smiled as he said that filled him with the urge to lunge forward and rip his throat out.

  "I love you too, dear," Mangafuoco sardonically said. "I especially love how you roped me into your play with the soul intention of killing me; that was very nice of you, it really was."

  "H-how do you know?"

  His eyes glimmered with mocking superiority.

  "How do I know?" he asked. "Your precious little slut Cecilia explained everything to me! She told me beforehand that the vial was filled with real poison."

  The bearded man shook his head and clicked his tongue.

  "And I thought that there was an unbreakable loyalty between you people. Guess you're all just a pair of desperate, amoral fools."

  The urge to strike anything tempted Adone, but the moment it surged through his body, the lacerations grew deeper. Violence begged him to be freed, but he couldn't express its wish for annihilation, so it rolled into him and annihilated a part of his psyche, causing him immense pain. The superabundance of violence carried a superabundance of potential, all of which actualized itself within him in an inferno of anguish. A guttural moan attacked Adone's throat, as if it sheltered a rabid beast. While he snarled at the pain, a combustion of laughter blasted from Mangiafuoco, filling the dungeon's silence with a nightmare's echo.

  When his aggression subsided, he understood why she would want to do something like that to him after what he did. The realization of that fact afflicted him deeper than the bodily scars, igniting a conflagration of pain throughout his whole being. A terrible shriek echoed through the halls as tears began to run down his face. Only his tears were able to run from the pain, so they did with great efficiency as his body remained frozen with paralyzing pain.

  "Aw, that hurts, doesn't it? Betrayal is such a cruel thing. You want to know what it particularly hurts so much now? It's because these crimson threads of mine can play around and rip out any part of someone. Any! Whether it's their physical aspects or their mental ones, I can hurt them all with ease! And you, my stone-hearted harlequin, will enjoy the full force of that for a whole week!"

  A flood of nervous perspiration mingled with the blood they both hit the dusty ground below his dangling feet. His lips quivered from the pain, erasing his attempts at talking or uttering a sound that wasn't an animalistic groan. Time did not exist where he was. His mind couldn't fathom time's control over him, so it deserted him completely. Years could have passed without his knowledge. One single movement of a thread caused him month's worth of pain, as if he was sweating acid and felt it crawl out of his skin like lava.

  There were times when he couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep, where he couldn't tell if the pale green fire was still around him or not. The surge of burning pain in his dreams and in reality blended together to encompass his whole universe. Sometimes, he'd see Mangiafuoco's face appear and disappear behind the bar, wondering if he was actually real in the first place. His voice would take a long time to reach him, sometimes coming to his ears with crystal clarity when he isn't in the room. But in delirium, its contents would crumble to meaningless sounds as soon as it reached him, occasionally remaining as intelligible units when his mind was in a decent state. What filled the void the most were Pinocchio's chirpy apologies; they rang like bells in his skull, with each apology kindling the desire to embrace him and tell him that it wasn't his fault. To tell him that he simply did the right thing in a wrong world. Through the deluge of pain, he tried to gain control over his broken voice.

  "Ki-, Keh-," he stammered, struggling to even think amidst the visceral storm wreaking havoc on his body and mind.

  "Kill... me..."

  Mangiafuoco laughed hysterically which rang sharp and shrill in Adone's ears.

  "Beautiful! To see the mighty Adone beg for his life to end. I thought you were one of the tenacious ones, but I guess I was mistaken. We'll see if you last the week. If you decide not to die a miserable death, then you might die an honorable one at hands of my favorite toy, Martino. Oh, you're going to love Martino."

  Hardly any of Mangiafuoco's words made it through his mind, which was being overrun by a pandemonium of pain. The volatile rhythms of his heart was the only thing he clearly heard, together with a soft melody that he deduced was a product of oncoming insanity. During a vibration of excruciating agony, he felt something wrap around his legs and slowly make its way up. Bright fiery eyes stared at Adone, growing closer as it slithered around his torso. After letting out a pure shriek of fear, he began to shake uncontrollably, causing a sea of blood to roll down his checkered cuts. Even his tears that continued to flow began to adopt a red color. More wordless howls echoed through the space, together with a coarse giggle.

  "Are you afraid of a little snake? That's adorable! He won't hurt you; he's only there to play a sweet little melody to you to keep your body from destroying itself, so you can writhe as much as you please without losing too much blood. Hang in until then, alright? My little buddy is there to keep you company so that you don't become lonely here in the deepest, darkest dungeon I can find."

  As he walked away, a flurry of audible chaos infested the area with a haunting echo. The green serpent climbed its way through the red threads looped around his shoulders to sit while whispering sweet melodies into the air. Its shiny body phased through the threads, which sewed through his flesh and spirit from another realm. Bloody tears trickled down his face, traveling over the bright green scales of the snake. In the corner of his eye, he saw the fiery eyes stare into the ether as it flicked its bifurcated tongue to taste the acrid air. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that it was an automaton with intricately designed scales.

  Its smoking tail deceived his already torture-warped senses, revealing frightening phantasms in the everchanging wreaths to make him shiver and cry out with bloody tears again. The song it sang came from an enchanted music box inside of it that continuously played an odious and endless melody that served to only keep his body alive while it screamed for death. However, throughout the week, his indomitable spirit, which was no stranger to the lacerations, became pulverized and crystallized to the point where his humanity was devoured by its own abyss.

  Deep in the garden of his ghost, where flowers borne from madness blossomed, he would converse with the serpent. Its venom enchanted whatever fruit grew there, infusing all the life which one thrived there with the promise of death. But no matter how pregnant the fruits were with such a sweet promise, all of it endured. All except him.