Egotober - 2022

3. Ink || Shawn Flynn

Shawn Flynn sighed, setting the Bendy plushie he was working on down, standing up. He was bored, wanting to wander around the studio for a bit to take a quick break. He stood, trying to wipe the ink stains off of his hands and arms, only to end in a worse result. Now ink smeared up and down his arms in a slightly swirly pattern, Shawn's fingertips stained black. He sighed again, rolling his eyes. As he walked away from his work station, he realized he couldn't hear anyone else. Usually the studio was loud, people's voices echoing against the walls. Shawn paused, listening intently for any signs of life.

"Hello?" He called, his thick Irish accent filling the simple word, "Is anyone there?"

Shawn started walking again, this time slower, more careful.

The steady drip of something at the end of the hall Shawn was walking down bounced off the walls, making it seem much louder than normal. The overhead lights flickered, and Shawn flinched, looking up nervously, before the lights went out completely.

"Shit..." Shawn muttered as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small flashlight.

The lights were very untrustworthy, they had a tendency to go off at any given moment, so most people who worked there developed a habit of carrying around a flashlight.

He turned it on, illuminating the hall with dim light. Something cold brushed at his ankles, and he turned the light down. Shiny black liquid was flooding the hall, the familiar but overpowering smell of ink filling his nose.

"What the-"

Shawn looked back up, continuing to walk down the hall. The ink swished and splashed as he walked. Something dropped from the ceiling and landed on Shawn's head, and he reached up, his fingers coming back shiny with more pitch black ink, staining his fingers even more. With each step the ink seemed to get deeper and deeper, reaching up to his thighs. A loud clank came from the end of the hall where Shawn had just come from, a second pair of footsteps splashing into the ink. Shawn whirled around and the sounds stopped. But no one was there.

"H- Hello?" He asked hesitantly, his voice sounding unfamiliar and way too loud.

The splashing continued, this time louder and faster, as if whoever was at the other end was running directly at Shawn.

Shawn let out a small scream, starting to sprint in the opposite direction. He didn't know what was after him, and he didn't want to know.

He finally reached the end, the light from the room he had entered blinding him. He was too busy lunging into a locker to notice the now waist high ink had completely disappeared, the only trace that it had ever existed in the form of his ink soaked pants.

Shawn sank to the bottom of the locker, hugging his knees to his chest as he held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

But nothing came. Shawn blinked and stood, peeking through the cracks in the locker door.
Something ran down his cheek and he jumped, quickly touching his fingers to his face, touching something wet.

He pulled his fingers back slowly, staring at more ink.

"What the fuck?"

His vision grew hazy with black, more cold liquid leaking onto his cheeks. It ran down his face, dripping onto the floor, creating a small puddle of ink. Fear filled Shawn's chest and he stumbled out of the locker, tripping on something and falling backwards.

Shawn's eyes flew open and he gasped, jerking upwards. He was back at his desk, the Bendy plushie he had been working on drying in front of him, the sounds of people working and talking echoing around him.

"Oh thank fuck, it was a dream," Shawn sighed in relief.

Something in his mind whispered at him to make sure it had been by making sure there wasn't anything on his face, so he gently brushed his fingers against his cheeks. His fingers met something cold and wet, and with wide eyes he pulled his fingers back, the fear returning as he saw they were stained with more ink.