The Eyes That Watch Us-Chapter 32

Instructions

(There's a chapter beneath the flower definitions) Black Irises: Rebellion Snapdragons: Fierce defiance Field Bindweed: Stubbornness and Resilience Purple Hyacinths: Sorrow, regret, asking for forgiveness Sunflowers: Unwavering faith, adoration, loyalty Amaranthus Caudatus: Unfading affection, enduring love Belladonna: Chains of fate Queen's Lace: Do not command me, I wish to break free Red Columbine: Anxiety, matters of the heart White Lilies: Innocence, purity Blue Salvia: I think of you, healing, protection Pink Camellias: Tender longing for someone Snowdrop: Rebirth, renewal, return First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1250572637 Previous: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1277800779 Next: none yet The Eyes That Watch Us-Chapter Thirty-Two I pull a black hood over my head and pull a gray bandana tied around my neck over my mouth. Slinging a satchel full of spray-paint cans over my head, I crawl out my window and into the open night. Dark-red horns twist from my forehead, and my eyes glow a ember-soot orange. The night is my time, where I’m not bound by the shell they forced my soul in. The wood husk of my body sits in my room, as it will for the rest of the night. Ripped, darkened denim jeans cover my legs, and my long, blue, red, and orange hair pours out the two sides of my hood, covering my shoulders. I am Scott Sloth Major, the Sin. Contrary to belief, I am quite a hard worker. One day, I’ll break the bonds that keep me stuck as a Golem without erasing me completely. The Nightmare’s idea of the perfect servant, a Demon-a Sin, specifically-stuffed in a wooden body. Pulling out a myriad of different-colored cans, I spray paint on the walls of important complexes, places belonging to the government, or, in this case, Nightmare and Hatter. On the Mayoral Office complex, I paint a dragon emerging from snapdragons, field bindweed, and black irises, breathing fire on a shadow and a tea bag. Inside the fire, I write the words ‘Be their downfall. Fight. Rebel. They do not contain us.’ The Hatter’s Teabox, a massive painting of Joel, the knuckles on his right hand bleeding that same red-white blood he was weeks ago when I caught him crying. I shade it artfully, painting a flower wreath encircling his head full of purple hyacinths, sunflowers, amaranthus caudatus, belladonna, and queen’s lace. Surrounding him, like a bubble, I write the words ‘He did not deserve what they did’ over and over. The prison complex, a mural of Impulse and Skizz standing back-to-back, Impulse holding a bouquet of red columbine, belladonna, purple hyacinths, and white lilies. Skizz holding a bouquet of blue salvia, pink camellias, snowdrops, and black irises. The words I write are ‘One killed and the other stolen because a man couldn’t let go of unrequited love. That same man sits in the Mayor’s office now.’ I hit the judicial complex with the words ‘Your justice is not true justice.’ I surround them with black irises and snapdragons. I hit the Senate complex with the words ‘Your laws do nothing but hurt us.’ I surround the words with queen’s lace and field bindweed. Lastly, I hit the treasury complex by covering the entire building in every single bargain The Hatter has made and then gone back on. I crawl back into my bedroom window just as the sun rises, hood falling off my head. The familiar tingling of being forced back into the wooden prison fills me, and then… it stops. I allow myself to hope this time, gasping softly as I roll the shell over. It creaks as I do, but not loudly enough that I’m worried it will wake anyone else up. The crack from Nightmare’s sword stabbing into me has spread up through the runes on the back of what will now remain a lifeless husk forever. I am free.