The Artist's Insomnia pt 3
The Artist's Insomnia pt 3 by ~merrypsimon
6 ran into his quarters, screaming at his hands.
You curses! You curses! You made me hurt 5! Now hell hate me forever! You cursed hands! You cursed fingers! I hate you! I hate you! I wish I could destroy you for making me hurt 5!
6 walked over to window and looked at the massive amounts of rocks and pebbles surrounding it. 6 picked up the heaviest rock he could hold in one hand. 6 walked over to his corner angrily.
I hate you hands, I hate you. You made me hurt 5! Your curses, curses. Why couldnt the scientist give me normal fingers like everybody else? 6 asked himself, staring at the rock in his hand. 6 closed his eyes and again, he saw 5s leg again. How badly he scratched it.
I wish I could destroy you 6 heard his own voice echo in his head. 6 stared at his hand that was lying on the floor, then at the rock in his hand.
Not again. Not ever again he whispered, hate in his voice. With the r
The Artist's Insomnia pt 2
The Artist's Insomnia pt 2 by ~merrypsimon
7 walked up the stairs to where 5 and 9 were.
Hey guys she said. 5 and 9 turned around.
Hi 7 they said in unison. 9 stared at 7 confused, wondering why she was holding 6.
5? 6 whispered sleepily, still gripping his key
Oh! 7 exclaimed, remembering why she came up in the first place
Nightmare? 5 asked, cutting 7 off. She nodded.
A nightmare? 9 asked, confused about what a nightmare was. 5 looked down, closing his optic for a moment before looking back up and sighing.
Yes. He has them quite frequently he said. 9 shook his head, pretending to understand.
Let me see him 5 said. 7 gently placed 6 in 5s arms. 6 instantly knew who was holding him and wrapped his arms around 5, burying his face in the crook of 5s neck. 5 sat down, leaving 6 in his lap. 6 was still gripping his key tightly.
He holds that key like hes
The Artist's Insomnia
The Artist's Insomnia by ~merrypsimon
6 rubbed his optics blearily. He was so tired. 6 learned very early on in his life that he was an insomniac. Just like the scientist. He hardly slept. Even when he was tired he couldnt sleep. 6 swung his feet over the side of his bed, moving with a slowed pace. 6 let his feet slide to the ground before standing up. He rubbed the sleep out of his optics once more, then yawned. Sleep. Thats all he wanted was sleep. 6 walked slowly over to his stack of blank papers. Once more he yawned, then grabbed some paper and walked over to his ink pot. The ink pot was tall, just a bit taller then himself. He stood on the very tips of his feet, dipping his nib fingers into the pot. He was grateful that the scientist had made his fingers out of nibs, but at the same time very upset with it. 6 was afraid to touch anybody, for fear he might stab them, or hurt them. None of the other eight had nibs for fingers, that made 6 special. Once his hand was cover