The Holder of Conscience


In any city, in any country, go to any hospital you can get yourself to. After approaching the front desk, simply state to the nurse with a warm smile, "I've come to see The Holder of Conscience." A long pause will develop as the nurse simply nods with tears, regret drowning her eyes.

Eventually, she will lead you down the hall to a plain looking room that should be labeled N111. If it is any other combination, run as fast as physically possible out of the building and do not look back. Until you're out of the building, you must keep your eyes locked on the door of that room; for no one will stand in your path, so long as you do not even glance away from it.

However, if the room is correct, consider yourself lucky and enter the room, closing the door gently behind you. Ahead of you will be a small girl, appearing to be only about eight years old, with large, sad brown eyes and sickly yellow bruised skin, dressed only in a hospital garment. Her face, while young, is extremely withered.

As you the girl approaches you, you see that part of her face and body has been torn off, revealed the muscles and bones underneath. The whereabouts of her missing patches of skin and dark chocolate hair are unknown, as scars decorate her starved, mangled figure. You see, however, that there are poorly sewn on patches of mismatched skin, clumps of foreign hair attached to her skull, as if a poor attempt was made to hide her imperfections. She will begin to tell you the story of her sufferings, of why she was been sent to the hospital long ago. Her story is filled with so much sorrow and pain that you wonder how someone so young has lived through so much.

She will look at you with her large brown eyes, bloodshot and swollen from previous crying, once again filled with tears and she will ask you with a silent whisper filled with pain, "Am I pretty now?" Your mind will attempt to try and force you to say that she is beautiful, your conscience telling you that it will free her from this eternal torment, but alas, you must ignore your instinct to comfort, and instead tell her the absolute truth. If not, she will accuse you of being a liar and will tear off your skin and hair to replace her own, while you are still fully conscious, until all that is left of you is a pathetic shapeless pile of red flesh, seeping into the carpet.

If you do tell her the truth, that she is the ugliest, most grotesque creature you have ever seen, then her face will scrunch up with sadness as she falls to her knees, crying hysterically. She will fill you with guilt as she speaks words of torment, but as much as you want to comfort her, you must continue to tell her that what she did was wrong and that she looks like a monster. Failure to do so will be your damnation; you will become the tormented patient in room N111, filled with eternal pain and suffering. You must then remove from her all the patches of skin and hair of the unfortunate victims that came before you. You must ignore her pleads and cries to stop, ignore her cries of pain; ignore everything she says from that point on. After all of the patches of skin and hair are removed, the crying young girl will stand to her feet, wiping her tears with a soft smile and kindly thank you, and in her bloody hand, give you a pure white feathered pen. You may wonder why it has no blood on it, though she is covered in blood.

The feathered pen is Object 321 of 538. Writing with this will reveal the true feelings of anyone whose name you know.

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Last modified on 2013-03-05 23:41:08Average Rating: 4.5 / 5 (2 votes)Viewed 6019 times

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