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Book of Lies- Nightmare

Lies beget other lies. And soon, another story is born. Though I only wish these were lies.

That is the point of this story, I suppose. The Book of Lies. Because in a way, every single character in this book, wishes that the terrible things observed never happened. It is a book that is in and of itself, a great lie to both me and my character's desires.

And that is why I shall say it once again. That lies beget other lies. And that this is the lie that everyone wishes was true. That Noir Alverick had lived his life normally, being shy, finding good friends, and having his happy end.

But that is the greatest lie to both Noir and his life. Even if his desire is a lie.

And that is the true reason of the book's name. It is a book filled with the truth. That everyone wishes was a lie. Even if it created the wonderful person he was to this day.

This is Noah's story. And how the man who had saved all that he could, became Noir. An amalgam of darkness. Trapped within his own nightmare.

* * (Branching, continuum fracture detected) * *

* * (Reality shift, temporal shift) * *

* * (Activating in 3) * *

* * ( 2 ) * *

* * (1) * *

* * * *

* * *

* *

*

"Aaah!" "I wanna go home!" "Mommy!" "Waaaah!" "Please stop!" "Where's daddy?!"

Shut up.

"Please! They're just kids!" "I wanna go home!!!" "Where are we?" "I hate you!" "Please God . . . save us!"

Shut up!

"Quiet down, or no dinner!" "Fuckin' kids are always so rowdy." "Take us home!" "Mama! Papa!"

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up, all of you! You're all so weak! Shouting and crying will only get you beaten or a sore throat! Just shut up! Shut up! Shut-

"Mommy . . ." I hear, straight from my lips. My eyes widen, and I slap my hand over my mouth, tears streaming down my face.

I press my back against the wall and slide down, crying softly into my knees, trying to cover my face with my arms.

"Mommy . . . Daddy . . . please save me . . ." I wasn't any better than anyone. I was weak.

"Well, I'm not your mommy or daddy, and I can't save you, but I can try!" someone shouts. I feel a hand on my head, patting me gently.

I glance up, tears still streaming down. It was just another kid, but he had a bright smile on his face.

"Great . . . a crazy." I mutter, buying my face into my knees again.

"Oh . . . yup, I'm crazy all right." He says, patting my head still.

"What are you still doing here?" I ask, lifting my head back up. "There's nothing you can do! You can't help anyone or anything! You big dummy!"

He kinda just stands there, looking at me. Then he starts laughing, but he tries to hold it in.

"Course I can't do anything! I'm, like, four!" he says, kneeling down in front of me. "But my parents always told me to try, even if it didn't mean squat!"

"That's stupid."

"I know right?!" he says. "But . . . I guess I'm stupid, too. Man, crazy and stupid. What a doozy."

"Just . . . leave me alone. I . . . I want to be alone." I say, sinking back into the wall.

"I don't believe you." He says. I look up, and his smile is gone. But he's got the most determined look I've ever seen. "I think that you're real smart. And real strong. But you're also real lonely. You always have been."

"So?"

"So now you have me." He says, smiling again. "I don't know if we're gonna be okay. And I don't know what's gonna happen. But I know that I can be there for you. And maybe you'll be there for me too."

I look up at him, wide eyed. And then start crying even louder, like an actual 3 year old.

"Ah! Oh gosh! I'm sorry!" he says, he quickly fishes something out from his pocket. "H-Hear! It's the only thing I could sneak in, a-and I was saving it for an emergency, but take it!"

I try to calm down and look at his outstretched palm through the tears. In his hands was a piece of candy.

I start crying again.

"Wh-What's wrong?!" he says, putting his hands on my shoulders, looking like he was gonna cry himself.

"I h-hate sweets!" I say through the sobs.

"Th-This isn't candy!" he says, showing me it again. "It's a lucky charm, you know?!"

"I-It is?" I say, wiping my eyes.

"Y-Yeah! My dad gave it to me when I was real sad, and it really helped me. But you need it more. Just promise one thing."

"Wh-What is it?" I ask, nose running now.

"Give it back someday when you don't need it anymore. So whatever happens, we gotta both make it out of here. You don't wanna be a liar, right?"

"N-No . . ."

"Then promise me." He says, sticking out his hand with his pinky extended. "Pinky promise. The most serious of promises."

"O-Okay . . ."

I say, grabbing his pinky.

"N-No, you don't grab my pinky. You . . . um . . . like . . . like this." He says. Our pinkies were both hooked together, and he squeezed it softly. "There. Now it's official. It's a promise."

"A promise . . ."

He lets go and sits against the wall right next to me. I lay my head on his shoulder.

"What's your name?" he asks me.

"Noir . . . wh-what's yours?"

"Ryan."

". . . that's a stupid name."

* * (Perspective change, ????) * *

"Any potential from this group?"

"I'm not sure. We can probably expect about a third of them to die off. Though it would be a shame to lose some of them."

"Ah yes. Like that child of the two defective scientists. The preliminary tests they apparently checked for show that he's a bit of a savant. He seems to have a high understanding of concepts far beyond any child his age."

"Yes, he's most similar to Experiment #1 in that aspect. Though another one has stood out to me. The one from the two officers. Apparently, he had been deemed somewhat of a child prodigy. It's actually the reason why we targeted him."

"Yes. Hmm . . . how many more do you think we will need before it's perfected?"

"Not many. A few more batches like the one we gathered should be enough. No one will miss a few hundred kids."

"Yes, that's true . . . shall we commence the experiments, now?"

"I think so. Gather them up. Knock them out. And prepare the body bags."

"All in a day's work, I suppose . . ." He says, looking back to the series of papers. "These charts still don't make sense. A three year old shouldn't have this much cognitive capability. Forming sentences of this complexity, even defending his own parents with a kitchen knife?"

"The parent's were exposed to the chemicals in the lab. It's possible the child ingested it at an early stage of pregnancy, increasing development of the frontal lobal cortex. The rest might be good genes. As for the other . . . well, such anomalies are known to appear now and then."

"Anomalies indeed."