The Ink Storm

“What are you talking about? Why would he kill me?!”

The voice didn’t answer, but something weird was happening to her body. Her feet seemed to have a life of their own. An invisible force dragged her away from L who was stuck to his spot, still blissful about soaking his feet on the oozing ink.

“Hurry! Find the bottle, and go downhill. Warn the people about the upcoming ink storm!” the voice said again.

Though escaping, she couldn’t help but look behind her to check on what was happening to L. The ink slowly climbed to his leg all the way to his knees. He kept laughing like a nefarious villain. He even spread his arms as if enjoying ever drop of ink flowing up his body.

“More! I need more!” he screamed. “I’ve waited so long for this moment!” His greedy voice echoed as Jurie went further away.

“What’s going on with him?” she asked, hoping to receive a response.

“He’s not who you thought he was. His real name was Luck Luster!”

“L stands for Luck Luster?! As in Lazy?!”

“Yes! We’re closer to the bush where he kept the paint. Grab them all and don’t forget the jar. It might come in handy.”

*

Breathless and panting, Jurie stopped at the cluster of bushes at the foot of the mountain. She looked behind only to shiver when she noticed that a massive lump of even blacker cumulonimbus clouds blanketed the clear, white skies of Blankia.

‘I don’t think the Blankians won’t notice that. That thing’s huge!’

She got up after resting for a bit. Her arms sore because of carrying the paints, but she didn’t mind. She strode quickly, ignoring the thorns and stems prickling her arm and face. A wide smile painted her lips when she saw their office a few meters away from her. Her ran, but whined when something sharp stubbed her toe.

When she checked out what poked her, she a saw pointed quill bone on the ground. It stood out because it was the only thing that was colored there. It was an ivory-colored quill.

“Argh!” Her annoyed scream of pain permeated in the air attracting the guards’ attention.

‘Pick it up! Hurry!’ The voice echoed in her head again. ‘Don’t mind the guards! Warn them, now!’

But before she even opened her mouth, one of the guards yelled and pointed his gun at her. “Stop right there, traitor!” Unbeknownst to her, the other guards had already warned those in the office about her snatching some paint from the sap tree. Such crime was punishable by death—not through the Rekindling Forest torture, but by being burnt alive.

“It’s not the time for accusing me!” She gradually dropped her bags of paint but not the quill and the jar. “The ink storm is coming! The other guards didn’t tell you about it, but they have been feeding the exiled Blankians' creativity to The Boss. And now he’s coming in the form of an ink storm! We’re all dead!”

The workers who were at first just observing began running in all directions once they had a glimpse of the cloud. As they released their fear, words appeared on their skin, slowly until some of them almost turned black. And once their entire body was covered with words, they began to have their true form. Facial features—eyes, eyebrows, nose, mouth, and lips—popped from their blank heads. Their ears sprouted too.

Jurie was speechless witnessing the transformation. Blankians had human forms hidden under the blank skin they wore for no one knew how long. There were poets and painters from the Renaissance. Some of them resembled famous authors and other creatives in various fields: sculptors, potters, songwriters, and even playwrights! Above their heads, they wore their professions like hats. The painters had a canvas or a color palette; the authors, playwrights, and poets had a book or a quill; the musicians had music notes; and the potters and sculptors had a lump of clay or a chisel.

‘Writer’s block is only for writers; I didn’t realize other artistic people also experience a creative block.’  Jurie shook her head in disbelief. She was pondering over the series of events when the rumbling sound of elephants’ steps distracted her.

Not far from the Blankians, who were regaining their identities, three massive Censor Beasts rushed, biting and snatching those whom they got closer to. Their unconstrained emotions made them release the creativity they never knew they were familiar with, inviting the predators to feast on them. Those poor citizens failed to fulfill their final form before getting snatched or torn. For so long, the beasts had been starving, and seeing blotches of black ink around kicked their excitement that they wanted to have their fill. They rampaged.

“Blankians! Please calm down! Here!” She pointed at the bags beside her. “I have some paint to help you hide your marks of creativity!” But even before some citizens ran closer to her, the Censor Beasts had already blocked their path towards her. Their massive mouths hung open, waiting for their feast.

As they munched on the unfortunates, another sound roared from the distance. It was more terrifying than the echoing screams of torment, crushing of bones, and tearing of flesh surrounding her. Loud and booming thunder shook the grounds as sharp black lightning formed spider-like webs in the gray skies. They were so visible they appeared like permanent crevices, ready to crack anytime.

“The ink storm is coming! The Boss is in his final form!” The guards stampeded. Words also appeared on their skins like tattoos. “Run for your lives!”

Even the Censor Beasts stopped devouring the Blankians and skedaddled away, finding a hiding place.

But although the workplace was in chaos, some Blankians were unbothered, as if they didn’t really care at all. Some of them just walk around calmly, still doing their routine—printing, going out of the office to get their coffee, and even chatting outside.

And then, the first ink drops fell on one of the nonchalant workers.

“Ahh!!! That hurts!” he screamed and attempted to run but was paralyzed by just one drop of ink on his arm. As more droplets covered his arm, smoke rose from it like how things dissolve in a muriatic acid solution. It was so slow and painful that the victim just dropped on the floor and rolled, but it only worsened the situation. As the Blankian’s body got soaked in ink, he petrified and turned into a pillar of black dust that drifted along the gust of wind.

“I’m not going to be caught dead by that!” Jurie grabbed the paint containers again and rushed to the nearest building to seek shelter.

“Hey, Jurie. Where are you?“ A deep voice called her out. “Let me have a taste of your creativity. I bet it’s exquisite.”