Flesh - by icemanzek

April 24, 1994. The beginning. A light of which can be more than seen, but felt in every nanometer of my tiny form. A chance to exist. No, a chance to //live.// [[Read all about it]]

(text-color: blue) [ A newspaper. It's dated as today's. // “Healthy baby boy born despite unusual conditions.// Cliff Vogel was born today on April 24th to Jonas and Leah Vogel. He weighed in at 7 lbs 5oz and 19 inches long. The couple welcomed their second child into the family with loving arms on the special day. Leah Vogel delivered the child at 12:51 AM." ] (text-style: "rumble") [ [[Become reborn.|become reborn.]] ] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/paper.wav.mp3" autoplay>

</style> <img src=https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/newfleshposter.jpg.opt1160x920o0%2C0s1160x920.jpg width="800px" height="600px"> </div> [[This is the story of my brother and I.]] <audio src="https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/ambient.wav.mp3" autoplay>

April 25, 1994. Growth. He never knew I was there. I watched from the inside at all times. Jealousy. Anger. All I could do was allow myself to become caught up in my own emotions as I just lay there and watched. Unable to speak, unable to communicate with anyone but him. I knew him so, so well, and he barely even acknowledged me. Loneliness. Depression. Constantly living in a shadow of him. I could see, I could hear. Yet they only spoke to him. They loved him. And if they truly loved all of him, [[they loved me too.]]

(text-color: blue) [ The year is 2025. A medical dictionary sits on a counter. It is opened to a random page. ex·tra·ne·ous non·hu·man gen·e·sis noun The unwanted birth of a [[nonhuman creature.]] This commonly occurs during the birth of a single child, in which the inhuman lifeform blooms until becoming noticeably active within the body of the human child. ] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/paper.wav.mp3" autoplay>

June 12, 1997. Breath. I told him it was going to hurt. I feel myself slowly expanding inside the young body. Rip. Rip. Rip. I had never felt like this before. It was as if someone had directly pumped the essence of life into me. I felt alive. For the first time, [[I felt alive.]]

(text-color: blue)[ A news report. The headline read, //“Vogel Child suffering unknown illness”. 4 Year old Cliff Vogel has recently been hospitalized due to a sudden large blueish mass growing out of his back. The event was completely unforeseen by the parents, who reported waking up to loud, piercing screaming coming from their little boy’s room. Further [[medical investigation]] will occur.// ]

June 28, 1997. Unity. I feel myself intertwining with him more and more each day. We always learn from an early age that sharing is important. I believe in this principle [[more than anything.]]

(text-color: blue)[ Medical records. Date: June 30, 1997. Lullaby Community Hospital Patient: Cliff Vogel. //"The patient appears to have a rapidly growing blue-tinted mass protruding from his back. A physical examination revealed the feeling of something moving beneath the skin. The patient appears to be in extreme distress at all times. It appears that the movement and growth of this mass directly harms the boy. An [[operation]] will be required as soon as possible."// ] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/paper.wav.mp3" autoplay>

July 2, 1997.Removal. I have gone from living in his shadow to not living at all. Or, that’s what they think. Ripping, tearing. Coordinated hands all over him, all over me. One thing is outstandingly clear. They want me gone. I was not human. I can only watch as pieces of myself are torn out forcibly by gloved hands. I can only feel as I become ripped apart. But they don’t understand how close I am to my brother. If they take me, they take him. We are both our parent's children. It’s as [[simple as that.]]

(text-color: blue) [ A phone call. //Incoming. From Leah Vogel to Jonas Vogel.// -Hey, honey. -Hey. How did it go? -The doctors said it was a success. -Did they have any idea what it could be? -Haven’t been told much yet. Keep you posted. -Thanks. //[[click.]]// ]

July 4, 1997. Sleep. I will always be with you. No matter how long it takes, no matter whether or not you forget the way I have made you feel. You are my brother. We are family. And family do not try and kill eachother. The darkness calls. Remember me. I will certainly never forget you. But you will remember me. Even if it means tearing through your arteries one by one, cracking your bones until you can’t bear it anymore. It is only fair, my dear. You want to remove me? The feeling goes [[both ways.]]

(text-color: blue) [ A recording. Time: 3:08 AM. Vogel household Upper left room //The sounds of crying can be heard through the tossing and turning of bedsheets.// [[It's time to wake up.]] ]

January 14, 2003. Awakening. I have laid dormant within you for years now, my brother. Repairing myself, repairing //you.// I would call you by your name, yet it is only fair not to do so, as nobody yet knows mine. It has been a good rest. Did you miss me? //[[I certainly missed you.]]//

(text-color: blue) [ A missed phone call. //From: Sykes Elementary School To: Leah Vogel// [[Playback message]] / [[Delete]] ]

(text-color: #d8832b) [ //"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Vogel. This call is regarding your son, Cliff. Myself and some of the 4th graders have noticed that your son hasn't been being his best lately. An incident today occurred between Cliff and another student today in which your son acted very much out of character. He is currently in the Principal's office for yelling at and attempting to hurt a classmate. We ask you to discuss the matter with home upon his return. The staff and I have tried talking to him but he remained stubborn and unwilling to talk. Please call us back when you can. I just want to make sure everything's alright. Thank you."// [[Click.]] ]

(text-color: blue) [ //Message Deleted.// [[Hang up.|Click.]] ]

October 14, 2003. Rebirth. For the first time in a long, long time, I feel alive again. Thriving. Living. Just as you have felt every second of your life, I have only begun to feel now. Do you understand how lucky you are? You are loved by so, so many people. Your existence is acknowledged every single day. Your presence lights up the lives of others. Mine, on the other hand, only harms. But you have harmed me. And I do not [[forget.]]

November 5, 2003. Voice. Today, I spoke my [[first words]] to you in what felt like forever. I spoke in a language unknown to your tongue, yet always known in your mind. I expected you to be scared. Terrified. But you were not. I suppose it is the childlike innocence that propels you toward this sort of behaviour. Your curiosity. Just one of the many traits that mom and dad just love about you, don’t they? They love seeing you, listening to you. They’ve caused nothing but harm to me. We are equal. We are brothers. Why are we not treated the same? Why are you so perfect? I see the way mother looks at you. I see everything. I am you, and you are me. And together, we are part of the same family. My words are directly from me to you, for you only. //[[Go To Hell.]]//

(text-color: blue) [ A recording. Time: 2:57 AM Vogel Household Upper left room //The sounds of sobbing can be heard.// [[A new day arises.]] ]

January 3, 2004. Touch. Every time you hug [[her.]] Each time your friends give you a high-five. Each time your teacher pats you on the back for doing an exceptional job. //It only makes me stronger.// More powerful. I am slowly learning to feel, just as you have been able to all these years. Each and every day I grow bigger and bigger inside of you, my nerves integrating themselves into yours, reacting once more. I finally feel as if I am really [[becoming you|again]].

January 14, 2004. Revenge. I am sick. Sick of //you.// The pleasure I’ve gained these last few weeks is indescribable. I can speak. Yes, to only you. But I can speak. Let me talk to you once more. Close your eyes, so that I may open [[mine.]]

(text-color: #d8832b) [ A diary entry. //From the desk of Leah Vogel.// I am beginning to get worried about Cliff. Jonas keeps on trying to insist that everything is fine, but I know my son. A [[mother’s instinct]], some might say, though I don’t really feel like getting into it. He’s been acting a little out of character for a while now. It started out small, maybe he would skip saying a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ at dinner some days, but now, I’m seriously beginning to think that something much deeper might be happening to my baby. It has been 2 days since my son has last talked to me. He won’t even do as much as greet Jonas or I. He keeps his head down, moving at odd intervals, as if someone else is conducting his body; controlling him as if he were a puppet. I fear for not only myself, but for him. But how do I form any sort of connection when he won’t even acknowledge me? I’m highly considering checking him in at the hospital. [[God please have mercy on my baby.]] ] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/paper.wav.mp3" autoplay>

January 15, 2004. Opening. My eyes, finally, finally tearing their unnatural shape open as my retinas begin to reflect the light. Opening. That of which your flesh parts so mine may take its place. You used to always envelope me inside this prison you called a body. An opening here. A tear in the flesh there. It must be done. [[There is always a way.]]

January 16, 2004. Duality. We may share the same body, but we do not share the same mind. I tell you this over and over, but you always talk to me with this vile positivity in your voice. The voice that ignores others. That voice that only listens to me. That voice that will soon be mine. Now, brother. [[Speak to me.]]

(text-color: #dab71f) [ A [[diary entry.]] //Cliff's Diary. 1/05/2004. “I am a little scared. Someone wants to talk with me. I will [[write down]] what we talk about."// ] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/paper.wav.mp3" autoplay>

(text-color: #dab71f) [ A diary page belonging to Cliff. The words are scrawled messily across the page. // "I have talked with my brother! I didn't know I had a brother but he is talking to me! He told me lots of things that I don't understand. He says we are the same person but that does not make sense because I am me and if he is my brother why would he also be me? I don't get it. I need some rest. I've been feeling so tired."// The book is tossed aside, as if it had been roughly [[thrown.]] ] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/paper.wav.mp3" autoplay>

(text-color: blue) [ Cliff had always kept a diary since he was a child. His friends at school always teased him about it; said it was too 'girly'. He's gotten used to calling it a 'journal' ever since. [[The entry|Speak to me.]] ]

//"Mommy loves you. Mommy cares. I'm always here for you, [[my beautiful boy."|A new day arises.]]//

Always silent, never spoken. Always watching, never blinking. Always hearing, never responding. Always loving, never [[receiving.|forget.]]

(text-color: #d8832b) [ I never thought of myself to be the ideal mother. Jonas had always tried to tell me otherwise, his hand resting on my back, rubbing in gentle circles. It wasn't the first time I'd broken down like this, and it wouldn't be the last. Being a mother of my first newborn was more taxing on me than I had realized. Yes, I always had my doubts. Questions circled their way around in my mind daily. //What if I'm not the mother he wanted? How do I know if I'm raising him right? Am I doing the right thing by bringing a child into the world?// Every day, a new doubt. Every day, a new opportunity. [[Back|mine.]] ]

January 17, 2004. Genesis. This is the beginning of something great. I just know it. I have talked to you for the first time, my brother. For the first time, someone knows my [[name.]]

(text-color: #dab71f) [ A diary entry. His journal was looking more torn apart with every passing day. The handwriting on the page looks messier than usual. //Hello. Remember me. [[Edrexen]] // ]

January 18, 2004. Stretching. Growing. Becoming. Intertwining my body with yours once more. Let your mother not notice my presence as I grow under your skin. Let you wear big, bulky clothing, covering me up until I'm ready to show myself. Let your father see how proud he should become. This is a team effort, [[after all.]]

(text-color: blue) [ User: LeahVogel@hotmail.com //You have 1 new email in your inbox.// [[open]] ]

(text-color: #d8832b) [ //from sykeselementary@rudsb.ca// Hello Mrs. Vogel. This message is sent on behalf of Mrs. Hadley, your son's 4th grade teacher. We do not know if this has any connection to Cliff's past incident, but we thought we would let you know. Cliff has been acting very inappropriate toward his classmates these last few days, even going so far as to disrespect me. He has shoved who I thought was his best friend Matthew, and spoken very rudely toward not just myself, but the majority of students and faculty he has come in contact with. We are contacting you out of concern for the wellbeing of your son, as he appears to be struggling mentally. We want to provide a caring environment for all of our students and wanted to reach out to you to see if you could give any kind of insight. Please contact us as soon as possible. Best regards, [[Mrs. Hadley]] Sykes Elementary School [[Close e-mails]] ]

(text-color: blue)[ Cliff's fourth grade teacher. She was genuinely one of the kindest souls that Cliff had ever known. Donning a pair of dress pants and a cardigan daily, she had always had a sort of spring in her step, a brisk pace at which she walked, accompanied by a smile on her face. A smile fueled by medication, but a smile nonetheless. [[back|open]] ]

(text-color: blue)[ //[[Click.|hangupp]]// ]

January 18, 2004. Control. You gave it to me, like a parent gives their child cake on their birthday. Just like how ~~you~~ //we// feed the neighborhood [[animals.]] You gave me everything. You gave me life. Breath. But I do not thank you. This is what I deserved from the very beginning. And if you end up sacrificing yourself for me? [[Well,]]

(text-color: blue) [ Cliff's hometown was home to many animals. Being a suburban district, pet owners often allowed their cats to roam freely whenever they please. One particular cat, however, stayed in his mind longer than most. That of course, was Jasper. He was a stout long-haired calico, patches of terracotta, brown, and black mixed in with his dirty white fur. His jewel-green eyes adorned his little face, pupils razor-thin to help shield him from the harsh sunlight that bathed the sidewalk. His pace quickened a little whenever Cliff came into sight, excited to greet the young boy. Pupils widening upon seeing him pull cat treats out of his jeans pocket, knowing that he had saved those treats just for him. Jasper was always so friendly each and every time he met Cliff, whether it be in front of his neighbor's house or in a grassy clearing by pure coincidence. He was someone that Cliff could really call a friend. To Cliff, Jasper represented everything that was right with the world. He had always been an [[optimist.|hangupp]] ]

=><= <span style="font-size: 450%">(Text-style: "rumble")[ [[so be it.]] ]</span>

It's time to go to sleep, Cliff. [[Your head feels foggy.]]

[[Your eyes feel heavy.]]

[[Your breath slows.]]

[[Your bones snap.]] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/crunch.mp3" autoplay>

[[Your body shuts down.]]

(text-color: blue) [A medical report. Date: January 18, 2004 Lullaby Community Hospital Patient: Cliff Vogel //Patient has been brought into the Emergency Room by Leah Vogel. Leah reports seeing her son shaking violently in his bedroom. They report seeing him pass out seemingly out of nowhere as he sobbed frantically. Patient was brought into examination at 5:38 PM. A physical examination revealed a large, twitching lump of... something on his backside toward his right shoulderblade. Patient appears to be drifting in and out of consciousness at sporadic intervals. [[Further examination will take place.]]// ] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/paper.wav.mp3" autoplay>

January 18, 2004. Suspension. That of which your body performs, ceasing all activity. Allowing me to reign full control over. That of which your mind performs, my thoughts becoming the only filler. F͛ȅ͢e͞d̨̒.̅̇͑ G̵̤̖͟ͅͅr҉̡̯̻͇̩̱̹̀ọ͍͚̣̝̠͘w̺̰͍̠̖̟.҉͖̗̱̕ F̡͍̟̥͖̟̦̞̺̙̩̫̟̤̩̦͠è̷̟͈̝̣͔͉͉̗͉̙̼͎̻̝͠͡͠ͅe͡͏̵͇̤͈̰́d͏̴̖͚̺̻̲̠͈̤͕̲̖̩.̧͏̡̺̫̝̻̹̳͓̺̰̺͎̺̮ͅͅ ̨̛̙͓̭̮͖͕̗͈̘͢ [[G̵̡͕͔͔͂̈́͗ͪ̒̚͝r̷͕̬̪̻̩͈̩͔͉̫̓̑͆͂͛̕o̸̘̫̗̞̯͚̣̫̫̟̪̯̘̮͖̻̣ͫ̓̅̀͢ͅw̡ͦ̍ͬͫͭ́͗͛͗͋͋͗̈̉͢͏̢͏̟̮̤͔͎̳͈͈̘̺̫̹̪̝̱͈.̷̷͈̤̭̫͉̤͈̪̙̟̰̣̳̲̮͎̙̥̃ͪ͒̍̂͑̔̑̾ͪͤ͒ͪ̚͠ͅ]]

(text-color: blue) [ A recording. //Lullaby Community Hospital// Room 204 [[/Playback]] ]

(text-color: blue) [ -Oh my god, OH MY GOD -Is everything okay? -OH MY FUCKING GOD OH MY GOD -What's wrong? -GET THE DOCTOR RIGHT NOW -Why what's- -GET HIM RIGHT NOW OH MY GOD SHIT SHIT SHIT //Fast, frantic footsteps can be heard, accompanied by heavy breathing.// [[-HURRY.]] ]

January 18, 2004. //[[I am growing.]]//

<span style="font-size: 150%"> [[Growing.]]</span>

<span style="font-size: 250%">[[Growing.|grow2]]</span>

<span style="font-size: 450%">[[Growing.|grow3]]</span>

//[[Snap.]]// <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/eating.wav.mp3" autoplay>

(text-color: blue) [ -OH MY FUCKING GOD OH MY GOD HE'S BLEEDING -Ma'am, please remain calm- -HELP MY BABY PLEASE OH MY GOD -The surgical staff are on their way now. They'll be here any moment. -SOMETHING IS COMING OUT OF HIM IT'S FUCKING RIPPING HIM OPEN OH MY FUCKING GOD -Please, ma'am, we are trying our best, your son is in good hands. -HE NEEDS ME HE'S IN PAIN OH MY GOD ] (text-color: #dab71f) [-...mommy?] (text-color: blue) [ -CLIFF! MOVE MOVE MOVE I NEED TO SEE MY CHILD DON'T WORRY BABY EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT YOU'RE GOING TO BE OKAY I LOVE YOU -They're here. We are going to ask you to step back. -I NEED TO SEE HIM RIGHT NOW [[-Put him under.]] ]

NO. NO .NO. NO. NO.N̸O̧.͏ NO͞.̸ ̵NO͢.͝ ̨NO.͡ NO͞.͝ ͠NO͟.͘ ͏NO. N͟O.̛ NO͏.͝ ̸NO. ͠NO.̶ N̴O͟.͞ ̶NO̷.͡ ҉NÒ. NO.̵ ̶NO. NO. ͜N̵O͏.̴ ̧N̸O͠.̵̵ͮͬͪ̓ͫ̑Nͫͬͫ̚O.̵ ́͒̽ͥN̡ͪ̌̾̑O̿̊.̓ͬ ͑͆͒̐ͯ͗͟NͮO͒̑̌͌̕.̐ͯͪͫ̒ ̧̿̄̉ͤ̾N̢͋ͧ̌̎̇Oͯ͌͡.̛ͥ̅ͪͯ ̅͐͠N̂͋̌̈́ͦ͆Oͥ͋.̓̂͂̐͗ͯ ̿̓ͪ̑̐ͬ̓Nͨͬ̉̽͗͏Óͪ .Ņ̀̑̐̌̉̐ͮO.̃͆́̆̚ ̿͠Nͭ̍Ǫ͒.̒ͧ͊̏ͯ̅͡ ͂̿͊̕N̶ͥ̎ͬO.̨͌̃̀͐̀ ͫͪ̐̚͡ǸO.͊̊̐̈ͫ̀ ̧̾ͬ̽̓N̅̕Oͩ͑ͪ̇ͧ.̑̍ͨ ̽͂ͥ̉͂̚NO̅́ͪ̒̓ͬ̒.͞ ̑́NͤO̷.̀ ͆ͥͩ͗ͫͦ͛N͛͐ͮͧ̈ͭ́Oͥ͌ͫ̆̋ͦ͋҉.̑̈́̿͆̚͠ ̃̋̌͠Nͮ̂ͯͣ̓͛͞Ǒ͛̒̎̾͋͟.̓ͮ̒̊ͤ̅ ̨̌ͭ̓̐͂N̨͂ͮ͒ͣ̍̈́̄O̧͆. ̐ͦͨ͏N̸̔̌́ͭ̅O.̨ͨ̅͐̂̾̾ ̂̆ͯ̽̇N̅̿͂͐ͥ͊Oͯ̒́.͗̎̄ͣ͂̃̿ ͦ͊́̓̑NOͩ̇͆ͬ. ͆ͧͦ̿̚ŇOͮ͡.͛̉̆̇ ̨̇͆͊̿N͌̈ͬ͒Oͣ͂.̈̾͋̈́̑ ͪ̌ͨ̈͑N̓̓̉O.ͥ̊̅ͬͭ͝ ͂ͥNͪỎ̷͗̏̅ͭͬ̀.̢̔̎̌ͮ̌̀ͥ ͜N̽ͨͩÒͣ̒̐͗͊ͦ.̍͗ͣ̽̎͜ ̌̈́̀͂̓͟N͑͢Ǫ̴̵.̵́ ̡͡N͡O. ͡͝N̸̢Ǫ̴͝.̢̀ N̛O̴͜.̧̛́ ̷̕N̕Ơ̵.̸͝ ͝ŃO͟.͠͝ ̸N̴̡̡O͘.͘ ̧͟͝N͜͞҉O̸̶.̢̧͝ ̴N̛͢Ò͘.̸͟ Ń̵͝O̢͜. ̸̛N͜͝͞O͞. ̀͢N̡Ǫ̀.̢̨̀ ̸͝҉N̵̷Ơ͘.̷ ͟N̡Ò.̵͞ ̶̢N̕O͏. ̸̀͘Ņ̶͜O̷.̧ ͝NO̷͜͡.̢͠͠ ̡͜͞N҉͡O.̴ ̷͜Ņ͘Ǫ̷.̵͇͈̤̕͝͝͡N͈̫̞͘͡O̵͏͈̠͙͉̼̼.̣̠ͅ ͖̠̞̤̻͔N̷҉̘̗͙̼͞Ơ̶͍̳̳̲.̸̝͕͡ ̶̵̴̻̺͚̞̙̖͉͚N̴̷̖̰̪̘͚̳̣̕O̘͇̦̟̗͔̪̮.҉̜̙̙͓̺ ̵̴͔̰͞N͇̲̰̭̫̝̮̮O̭͈̫͠.͏̡̫̭͕͕̤̖͈̼͟ͅ ͏̨̣̫̗̠͇͉̗ͅN̜̜̮̱̼̜ͅO͉̻͓͙̠̫.̷̬͎̤̙͔̤̮ ̳͇̳̺̖͙N̵̨̰̳̭̕O̦̳̗̻͡.̠̲̤̥̭͉̦̙̮͝ ̴̟̜͔̫̺͖̪̀͢Ṉ͙̥̻̱͠O̵̡̝̫̕.̵̝̲̼̱̕ ͟҉̙N̵͔̙̯͚͖̯̫̦͡O̶̩͉̻͓̲.̵̤̱̕ ̶̝̬N̗͈͈͜O̰͜͝͡.̡͈̯͇͍̺̯͖̫̙ ͝҉̶̪̯̠N̢͈͎̘͇͘O̤̫̺̺̤̞͢.̸͈̺̜̹̞̕ ̥̱̠̗̙̗̗͠N͙̘͞O҉̬̥̪̻̣.͏̬͔̪̫̩ ̶̙Ṉ̡̺̟͎̥̝O̷̰͈̲.̮̙̙ ̥̹͙̠͓̭̟̖͜͜Ṉ̟͔̞̟̥͝O̥͘͜.̨̛͍̤̺ ͉N̘̭̹͘O̝͍͓̙̘̩̫̝.͈̪̦̟ ̸҉͕͈̯N̵̜͖͎̖̼̳O͖̭̬̘̺̥͉.̷͎̱ ͔̘N͏̩͉̱̤͎̘O̺̮̹͔̤̦͙̗͟͝.̨͎̪͝ ̯̤̝̥̗͖͞N҉̥̗̖̟̣̫͕͍̤O̯̜.̢̖͚̮̣̥́͡ ̻̻N͏͔͕O͚̤͇̳͉̟͘͢.̯̪ ̙̦͔͉͢N̙̜̼͠Ǫ̺͚̦̖̗̰̻̯̀.̰̖͖̜͉͞ ̶͈͇̯̻̖̖̭̝́ͅǸ̹̘͈̥̣̮͎̱̠͘O͎̜̲̕.҉̮͉̠͉ ̵͇͍̫͕͔ͨ̅͊́̇̒͆ͥ͗ͬ͒͒ͬ́͞͠N̸̦̠̖͎̙͕̫̱̜͇͉̠͓̈́̋̅̅͂̾͑̒́̓ͩͯ͆̏͑̅̔̾́ͅO̤̣̩̟ͦ͗̊̃̉̇̈́ͦ̈͂̌́̽́͢͜.̣̱̘̘͓̜͍̦̦͓͉̹͕̖͇̟͎͉̩̍̍͆̈̌ͧ̾̑̎̑͂͜͡͠ ̨̝͇͓̱̱̭̻̫̟̥̮̳͈͓̲ͩ̽̋̂͂̃̓ͮ͑̌̀̕͘N̸̡̺̝͉̯̪͉̈́ͭ̊ͤ̿ͦͫ͗̔̉̓̃̚͢ͅȌ̵̷̭̯͕̣͙̤̳̠͇̞͎̪̱͓̯̫̋̑ͭ͢͜͡ͅͅ.̶̧ͥ͆̒ͩ̄ͪͯ̍ͣͬ͂̉̂̏̄̚͝͏̥̗̥͙͇̙̰̦͖̫̥͢ ̷̛͇͖̞̩̞̟͕ͨ͗̿͋N̸̞̰̤̞̉ͬ̓͊̔ͧͥͬͪ͑̓ͥ̽̉ͫ̆̑̑O̷̸̲̳̞̫̲̰̩̣͚̬͕͓͙̅ͪͨ̆ͤͦ̀͆ͣͦͤ̓̔̄̾ͨ̚.̢̱͉̦̱͚̦͔̥̙͋̀͗ͣͮ̀͆͛̽̓̑̽̄ͯͬ͊͋ͥͯ͢ͅ ̵̢̰̳̻̭͓̟̺̘̺̯͍̲̳̭̗͒͂̂̎̈́ͧ̎ͧͬ̃ͫͣ́͘N̩̗̟̖̼̘̼͙̺̘̗̥͋ͨ̓ͨ̍͒͗͒͑ͦ̈͂̀̋̂ͩ̀͘͢͝O̸ͮ̑̑̋ͪ͗͗̏ͧ͊̈ͭ̑͌̎̅ͫ̏̀̕͏̦͔̝͓̥̠̩̠̹̥̘̻͇̥̲͙͈͎͢.̡̩̠̻͉̣̹̺͉̪͔̠̳̻͇̪͇͑̓͛ͦ̅͊̕͟͠ͅ ̸̵̱̻̫͇̱̙̒̌͑͋͌̾ͫ̄́̉͆̒͑͑̇N̡̢̨̼͙͎̺̱͖ͫͪ͂ͦ̿͞O̴̩̥̞̻̙͙͂̊̀ͦ̚͟͡͞.̙͕̭̤̱̫̗̲̲̊̽͆ͣ͒͐̃͊̇͗͟ͅ ̷̨͓̯͈̘͍̝͈̩̤̝̦̯͍̏̒̌̆̿ͦ̀͘N̆̇̃͋̌̌̃̆̏ͤ͆̅̒̒ͨ̚͏̜̠̪̤͎̺̼͢͞͞ͅǪ̂̐̐ͥͫ̍ͬ̇͐̂͐͗͞҉̷̪̘͔̺͔̼͔̪͈̜̖̭̦̰̩ͅ.̸̶̺̫͍̠̥͍͌͐ͭ͋̿̒̓ͮ̑̊̏ͪ͌͌̃̌̐̾́̀ͅ ̴̞̲̘̩̪̈͛̎͒͒ͬ̐͛̍͜͝͠N̛̞͔̣̳̠̯̰͇̹̭͓̫͍̓̊̈ͭͫ̓͑͊͂Ǫ̻̱̮̭̦͍̭̥͐ͪ̎͂̌͌ͬͥ́ͅ.̵̴̡̲͉͎̳̼̙̤̆̍̓̾̋̉̔͠ͅ ̿̈̉͆̋ͩ͂ͫͥ̄ͦ̔̆ͤ̌͛́ͤ̓͏͓̤̝̖͢͡N̵̗͙̟͇͍͈͉͕̱̞̲͓̈́̿ͬ̒͢͢ͅO̧̺͓͚̖̥͔ͩ̌ͣͫ͋͐ͩ͌̂̇͢.̵̶̢̻̤̮̻̤̳̭͇̗͎͎̜̭̦͖̩͖̓͂ͪ̉̉̓̍̆̊̌͆̓͝ͅ ̧̧̇̓͑ͫͮ̐́ͯ̍ͦͬ͌̊̇ͤͨ͏̛̮̙̫̳͔̬̯̟̜͉̬̜͚͎̬̘̺ͅN͐̊̅ͩͧ̌ͮ̄̍̂͋ͬ̄ͤͮͯ̇ͧ̂͏̢̢̟͚̲̬O̧ͦ̑͑ͩ̚̚͏̯̰̝̞͔̖͔͈̜͚̺͈̬͠ͅ.̨̿ͨͪ̐͐̂̌͂̇̔̀͗ͤͣ̅҉̤̞̯̭͇̬͙͕͍͇̝͓͝͡ͅ ̢̂ͧͫ͛͌͂̈ͬ̔ͤͣͮ͜͠͏̨̖̱̻̠̹͇͖͙͎̮̳̲͔̻̪̲̫N̵̙͓͇͉̦̠̬͈̦̤̟̳̰͒ͥ͑ͦ͑͒̏͋͂͜O̷̟͍̝͇̣͙̜͖̘̜̍ͫ̋̉ͫ̿̆̽̈́̾̽͛̄ͨͤ͋ͥ͒̄͠ͅ.̷̶̡̛͇͚̞̮͍̝̫̅̎̎͐ͦͧ͛ͦͥ͛ͧ͢ͅ ̢͓̰̙̘̜͔̮̩̲͑ͣͦͦͧͦͪͣ̚N̨̟͓͔̠̗̞͉̹̙͔͕͒ͬͨ̎ͤ̾́ͪ͐̓̆ͦ̒̕O̴̺̜̘͕͈͕̘̫͉̭̭̱͌͊̽̔ͯ́͟.̢̉ͭ̈́̋͒͌̾͛ͦ̒̐ͩͪͩ̾͋͂ͪͦ͜͏͎̬̗͕̥̪̯̜͖͖͠ͅ ̶̹͕͙̲̜̫̮͍̠͚̞͇̬̜͉̠̳̉ͮ̇͋́ͯ̎͠͝N̨̧ͬͭ̍̅̕͝͏̝̹̖̻O̴̵̎͆̅ͭͮ͂̚͝͏͔͙͔̭͔̘̳̪̞̹͔͕̠͇̻̙̤ͅͅ.̵̴͉̱̬̥̹̃ͯ̂̐͊̆͋̽̅ͮ͘͘ ̰̜̗̥͉̥̩̻͉̫͇̾̓͛͐ͤͯ̌͘͜͡N̡̡̖͔͚͇̞̫̭̪̞̘͓̠̬̬̠̆̏̀̈́̉ͦ̀͐͊̂̿̊̆̎ͦ̒̀́͜Ô̶̈̊̏͂͐̏̅̽ͪ̉̍̆̔͘͜͏̶̻̬̥̝̱.̂̃̈́̽́҉͇̘̞̻̟͍͔͇̀ ̨ͨ̊ͦͣ̄̋ͣ̾̆̃̽̊ͬ̓͊ͨ̽̑̀̚͢҉̴̮̤̱̘͔̟̹͉̥̤̳͕͉̼͕̩N̢͍̯̞̲͙͌̓̎̑̄̈̇̋͐́̓̿ͪͧ̀͝O̸̐̽͗ͦ̈̇̊ͨ̉̾̍̈́ͨ͑͋̽̚͢͢͏̮̬̫̖̥ͅ.̨̨͉̱̰̤̼͉͚̻͕͙͓̮̳͍̯̹ͥ̄̌̐́̏̇̈̌ͩ̅̏ͦ̓̒ͪ̂ ̶̵̛̟̻̭̭̌̃̂́̊̃ͭͭ̐̔̈́̄ͪͩ́̀͐̚N̶̨͖̲̜̦̦̻̻̞̺͓͚̱̞̭̩̲ͧ̀̀͗̿̂ͤͪͯ͑͑͜͞Ǫ̻̺̫̥̪̳̿̆̇ͩͫ̉̊̉ͩ͠.̷̯̱̳̪̺̦̾̀̔ͯ͋ͬͪͥ̑ͯͨ̋ͯͤ̋̿̆̽͘͟ͅͅ ̷̨̦̠͓̭̬̰͕͈̱̮̉̆̇͂ͮ͊̂̽̌̈̐͘̕͟N̷͇͚͙̘̘̟̫͈͉͈͎̽͗͌ͦ̈ͥ͑͂ͣ̆ͯ̉ͧ̾͟͟Ṑ̳͍͎̼̲̭̦̺̰̘̯̲̘̤̐͛̓̆̆̉͌͂ͨ̈́̃̅ͥ͛ͦ̀̚̕͡͞.̢͍̘̭͖͍̮̖̙̠̘͚̻̬̣̜͓̜̬̇̔ͮͥ̀ͩͤ͜͡ ̛̦̞̥͇͇̘̺͇̟̘̑͆̀ͧ͐̾̓ͮŃ̥̝̹͈̫̯̩͙̣̼̦͙ͬ̋͒́͌̔͒̉̾̓̊́́̚͟͠O̵̶̧̮̘̰̱̥̳̐̿̓ͩ.̨̨̛͓͍͚̣̈͒͛͜ ̛ͨ̂͋͛ͥ̾̋ͧͪ̑ͬ̑̍̉̿ͫ͊҉̭̱̲̲̥̙̻̩̺̺͇̖͈̟̗̩͢Ñ̛̬̲̤̜̭̟͉͕̩͈͖͔̯̺ͬ̄͌̐͌̇̑͒ͣ̄̓̀͋͜͠ͅȌ̅͌ͩ̾͒̍͆̄ͧͫͤ͘͏̡͈̖̜͉͓̬̣̫͇̦̞̝́.ͨ̓ͩ̄ͣ̿ͣͦ̆҉̵̨̢̠̲̱̯͖͖̭̰̭̖̝̳͜ ̨̝̪͍̹̣̦͚̥͉̞̀͂ͫͪ̿ͯ͌͘Ņ̨̳͔̥̖̳̗̟̺̹̩̘͓̻̱̹̮ͪͣ̀̆̏͐̓̌̉̏̃͆̽̓ͫͩ̚̕͟ͅͅO̷̧̱̬̹͙͍͉͓̳̲͉͍͓̻̞̝̪͓̠̣ͧ̃̓͛ͭ̌̿̓̈́̔͆̔̍̄ͧ̃͢͡͠.̵͚̳̬̩͓͈̻ͣ͗͂̿̂̓͊̍̑͆̋͆ͮ̐ͧ̂ͩ͐̆͘ ̳̘͓̫̱̏͛̇̾ͮ̾̃̊͘͞N̺͎̥̪̖̖̳̰̔ͨ͌ͮ̍͗͗͗̌͛̄ͫ͑͋̌̍̊ͧ͟͠Oͯͩͧ̎͞͠͏̸̥̗̹̣̭̼̮͙.̨̈́̓ͩ̽̒͊ͤͤ͠҉̫̭̠͔̝̭̮̲̯͖͉̜ͅ ̶̫͚̣͉̐͗̉ͧ̊̌̍͞ͅǸ̴̛̹̭͓̙̋ͧ̒̋ͪ̊ͯ̐̐͂ͯ̓̽ͤ͡O̥͕̬͍̩̘͉̥̠̱͖̣ͯ͌̏͑́ͩ̓ͯ̔̈̔͐̃̎ͤͯ̀̀.̧̠̟̪̭͔͊ͨ͊̔͑ͭ̀͌̇̈̎ͮ̊̿̓́ ̴̷̡̭̟̘̲̞̙͉̲̪̪͖̰̠͑͐͒̈́̍̈́ͪͧ̂̊ͯͤͮ̿̿̒ͦ̇̚͜N̢̼̺̗̤̣͕̖̭͈͉̬̗̺̠̥͔̣͍ͯ̓ͫ͊̕Ǫ̴ͦ̓͛̂ͮ̔̅͊ͧ̽ͭ̈́̆҉̟̞̮̱̟̗̖̟͇͚̹͠.̤͍̠̯̹̘̘̪̮̩̪̻̑͂̊͌́̚ ̶̵̼̲̲͖͇̙̥͙͍̅ͤ̏ͭ̆̎̏̉ͥ͐ͯ̌̋̆̽ͤ͋̕͠Ņ̶͂̓ͯ̀ͣͭͫͩ҉̸̭̝̟̞O̧̟͉̦̳̤͚̐͆̅ͩ͊̂͑ͪͭ̋̏̏̕.̬̝̖̟̠̝̝͖̝̝̱́̋͋̓ͥͩͤ̂͋ͧ͂̈́͘͜ ̛̛͖̟̫͉͔͔̙̗̮͕̹͕̖͉̇̎̓ͯ͊̽̅̌͟N̵̲͔͕͉̍ͦͥͥ͒͆͌ͫͯ̑ͫͬ̃̈̈́ͤ̓̀͢O̐̔̂̎̽̉ͬ̄͋̉̈͗͆͊ͪ͒̉̈́̾͟҉̴̤̹̣̮̬͓̙̟̫̞̫̦͖͖̻̙͟͡.̦͚͓̝̼̰̣̣͖͉̮̺̤̓͊͂ͯͣ̎̉̌̄ͧ͑̆́̀̚̚̕͢ ̵̡̨ͥ̔̏͆ͤͤ̄͋͌҉̣̘̘̲̺̙̱N̦͚̣̫͙̪̥͚̱͎̱͇̘̅͌ͧͦ͂̓̔̊́ͨ̈͢͜͡͡ͅǪ̈̌ͦ͗́̚҉͙̤̯̳̳̘͓̬̩̤̬̕.̴̧͍̤̱͍̜͙̳͍͙͚͚͍͕̞̼̮̳͋̈̽̊̓̓ͯ̓͠ [[I feel the sharp tip of the scalpel scrape into my raw, pulsing form.|A blade swiftly slices into me.]] <audio src="https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/ambient.wav.mp3" autoplay>

(text-color: black) [Where am I? Am I dead? Is this what it feels like to simply not exist? ... Wait. I hear something. No, [[someone.]] ]

(text-color: black) [The voice grows closer. I recognize it all too well. //[["Cliff?"]]// ]

[[Are you there?]]

[[...hello?]]

(text-color:black) [ Brother? [[Is that you?]] ]

[[...Edrexen?]]

(live: 1.5s)[(goto: "Bad End")] //[[Cliff, I'm sorry.|apologize to him.]]//

(text-color: black) [ A wave of sorrow washes over what's left of me. //What have I done?// I feel my conscious slowly starting to fade. Just like his had, only moments ago. I was just as [[bad as him.]] ]

(text-color: black) [ And just like that he's [[gone.]] ]

(text-color: black) [ He had left me. Just like everyone did. Just like how everyone wanted me gone. Just like how the surgeons' knives, expertly slicing into bits of ~~us~~ //me// slowly pried me away from him. [[Did they just not understand?]] ]

(text-color: black) [ DID THEY NOT FUCKING UNDERSTAND? MAYBE I WANTED A CHANCE TO LIVE MAYBE I WAS THE ONE WHO NEEDED LOVE FROM ~~OUR~~ YOUR MOTHER MAYBE IT WASN'T EVER FAIR THAT I COULD NEVER BECOME YOU [[BROTHER]] ]

(text-color: black) [ I am //stronger than you.// I can [[rip you apart.]] ]

(text-color: black) [ [[JUST]] ] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/eating.wav.mp3" autoplay>

(text-color: black) [ [[LIKE]] ] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/eating.wav.mp3" autoplay>

[[That.]] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/eating.wav.mp3" autoplay>

January 18, 2004. Freedom. Today I ripped myself away from the shell of the person my brother was. I've waited a long life, just sitting there, //waiting.// Growing. Becoming. //Waiting.// I emerged with the sound of snapping tendons and the //squish// of human blood spilling onto the floor, cascading down my body. I arose from the body of my brother, my skin raw and bloody, fists opening for the first time to reveal clawed hands. Four sticky eyes opening slowly, pupils exposed to light. I was finally free. He was dead. But more importantly, //I was alive.// I breathed in fresh air for the first time. I felt my heart beat. I heard the sounds of terror coming from the people around me, but I didn't care. I looked at them. My mother. And soon, **My** father. And I smiled. For the first time in what felt like forever, [[I smiled.|okay]]

(text-color: black) [No. [[I'm worse.]] I'm inhuman. ]

(text-color: black) [Cliff? //Are you still there?// [[Please...]] ]

(live: 0.8s)[(goto: "Faded")] (text-color: black)[ Before I ] Fade away

(live: 2s)[(goto: "Post")] (text-color: #ECECEC) [ //I'm sorry.// ]

(text-color: blue) [ A medical report. Lullaby Community Hospital Date: January 19, 2004 Patient: Cliff Vogel //After 8 hours of continuous surgery, Cliff Vogel was left with just over half of his body. The removed pieces seemingly formed of an alien-like substance proved to be heavily intertwined with the parts of him that remained normal and healthy. Patient awoke multiple times during the operation screaming something unintelligible. Multiple doses of anesthetic proved ineffective, as he kept writhing and shrieking throughout the operation. Restraints were required to continue successfully. Removing the affected parts proved a difficult task. Surgical team reports taking out 8 lbs of wet, pulsating, developing flesh that appeared to be blue in colour. Growing from the removed flesh were all the developing characteristics of a something almost resembling a human. It appears as if something extraterrestrial was growing inside of him. Surgeons noted what looked like the early stages of long, curled fingers and multiple eyes amongst the mass of flesh. We have come to the conclusion that Cliff Vogel was not living alone in his body. No, he had someone, someTHING developing and growing inside him every day. Although the creature's specific intentions are unknown, it is theorized that this other being wanted to break free from Cliff's body. Cliff has been medically induced into a comatose state. More surgery revisions will take place in the near future to repair his body. His heart rate has become increasingly steady since the operation, and he is looking to make a recovery. [[We still have no knowledge on the creature that was forming inside the boy.]] ] <audio src= "https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/paper.wav.mp3" autoplay>

(text-color: #dab71f) [February 12, 2004. Awakening. //My head hurts. I feel so sleepy. ...Hello? Mom?! [[...Dad?]] Where am I? I hear a faint beeping sound. Are there machines all around me? I try and sit up. My body is so tender, like I'd been scraped or cut badly. Footsteps. Doors open. I see my mom followed by a handful of nurses rush into my room, mouths all agape. it's kind of funny seeing them like that. Mom runs toward me. Was she crying? I feel warm as they hug me. I smile. For the first time in what felt like a while, [[I smiled.|END]]// ]

</style> <img src= https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/newfleshposter.jpg.opt1160x920o0%2C0s1160x920.jpg width"800px" height="600px"> </div> Thank you for playing. [[Start Over|birth]]

</style> <img src= https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/newfleshposter.jpg.opt1160x920o0%2C0s1160x920.jpg width="800px" height="600px"> </div> Thank you for playing. [[Start over|birth]] <audio src="https://zeksarchive.yolasite.com/resources/ambient.wav.mp3" autoplay>

A daily newspaper, dated January 19. //A Missing Persons Report has been filed for [[Jonas A. Vogel.]] He was last seen running away from Lullaby Community Hospital, carrying what appeared to be an unknown blue substance in his arms.// [[Back|We still have no knowledge on the creature that was forming inside the boy.]]

A driver's lisence. //NAME: JONAS AUßERIRDISCHE VOGEL 138 SCOTT AVE SEX: M CLASS: G ISSUED: 1988/03/10 EXP: 1995/03/10 //[[Back|We still have no knowledge on the creature that was forming inside the boy.]]

''Warning:'' //Flesh.// contains various sound effects and music. Lowering your volume is advised before you play. Use the ''scrollbar'' located to the right to navigate long passages. ''TW/CW:''This is a horror piece of interactive fiction that contains a variety of dark and unsettling themes, including character death and body horror. [[Click here for a full list of content warnings.]] ''INSTRUCTIONS:'' Click on the [[blue text]] to advance further. In some cases, <span class="red">[[red text]]</span> is also clickable. You can seek additional information by clicking on all of the blue words in the order in which they appear. Hover your mouse over the text to check if they are [[clickable.|blue text]] Clickable text becomes underlined when highlihghted with the mouse. Click the words below to begin.

It is advised that if any of the following topics have any chance of sacrificing your mental health, please do not play this game. It's not worth sacrificing for a stranger's HTML indie game. There are plenty other stories to enjoy from amazing creators sitewide. It should also be of note that this game has no pictures aside from the title/end card. There are no visuals of any of the themes mentioned below. ''THINGS PRESENT'' ''- Unsettling Sound Effects'' (The snapping of bones can be heard toward the end of the game for effect. It is recommended to turn off the volume if this sounds like something you don't want to hear. There are no other sound effects.★) ''- Death & murder'' ''- (Description of) mild gore/blood/violence'' (Particularly towards the end of the story) ''- Medical content and allusion to pregnancy'' (This story is told by an alien being from another planet that is growing inside the body of a young boy. It's not pregnancy per se, but something similar that is intended to be scary. [[Back|Warnings]] ★All 3 of these are influenced by my own personal experience as someone who has been diagnosed with OCD, depression, and anxiety.

[[Back|Warnings]]