Red Flames

Shadows engulfed the abandoned remains of what once was a studio full of dreams and promises of a better future. The silence only broken by the sound made by the ink as it slowly dripped from the cracked pipes and made small pools, leaving stains that could never be erased. When the place was shut down for good what once had been a paradise for kids and grownups alike was turned into a place of nightmares, not demolished only because of the fear inspired by the rumors about a vengeful entity that still roamed its halls.

It’s true that the imagination of men knows no boundaries, and most of these rumors were nothing but stories, occasional sparks of inspiration born from the desire of making something as simple as the unfortunate downfall of an old animation studio material of legends. Most skeptical people agree on the theory of this having something to do with the kind of mascot this once famous studio had. While other studios had cute critters like bunnies, mice and cats…Joey Drew Studios had gone with the risky and still somewhat polemical choice of picking a demon as their mascot and representative.

Little did they know that behind all those tales and speculation, there was some truth to be found.

Deep within the wooden structure, which went way further underground than many would believe, a small creature could be found, drawing random scenes of cartoons of old on the floors and walls using the still fresh ink that kept leaking from the pipes. Being around 3’4” in height and completely in black and white, at a distance anyone would easily think they were watching a projection of the old cartoon, that is, until they got close enough to realize this cartoony creature was real. A wide grin like the one found in the many cutouts around the studio could be seen in its face as he drew, but each time he stopped his work to think, the bright memories that fueled his movements vanished, making his cheerful expression turn into a saddened one.

Like many times before, a new idea or memory worth drawing failed to reach his mind in time for him to get to work again and recover his good mood. In a completely unpredictable reaction from his part he grabbed a handful of ink from the small pool of ink he had been using to draw seconds earlier and with a scream full of sadness, grief and anger, he started to throw the ink to the beautiful drawings on the wall, and stop those he had done on the floor.

“WHY?! WAS I NOT GOOD ENOUGH?! WERE WE NOT WORTH SAVING?! WHY DID YOU ABANDONED US?! WHY DID YOU BETRAYED US?! WHY….why…” With inky tears on his eyes, the small devil finally stopped his attacks against the walls and floor, from the drawing he had done, only smudges and splatters were left. As if he had suddenly lost all his strength he fell on his knees, sobbing “…why…did you lie to us?”.

And as always, his only answer was the silence of the shady halls and the dripping of the ink that leaked from the pipes.

It took him to recover…what…some minutes? Maybe hours? He didn’t know nor cared at this point. Wiping away his tears he got up and turned around, his footsteps echoing across the abandoned studio as he wandered without any specific direction. He didn’t care where he was going, it wasn’t like if he was going to get anywhere new after all…or well, that was until he heard a loud noise coming from above, causing him to trip and fall face-first.

“Ngh…wha…” Now paying attention, he recognized the odd sound. The ink machine…but even if he recognized the noise it didn’t made it any less weird “It never had done sounds like those before…” He got back to his feet and, rubbing his face, he made himself a shortcut to the room where the machine was using the ink to his advantage. Sometimes, being an ink demon in a place full of ink which he was unluckily bound to had some perks.

When he arrived he was met with a somewhat rare sight, having to watch the backs of some kids or teens that ran out screaming like if the devil himself was chasing them, and in all honesty he wasn’t interested in chasing a bunch of problematic kids around the studio. They would find their way out on their own and hopefully never come back.

His attention was once more drawn to the ink machine when another loud, strange noise came from it, causing him to hurry to check it to see what in the Hell had those kids done to it and hope it was fixable. He had many talents, but fixing machinery was definitely not one of those. The outside seemed fine, so that had to mean that somehow the kids had managed to make something on the inside start failing. With a deep sigh he looked inside the big open pipe that was leaking ink and jumped inside the machine, careful to not hit any of the pieces of machinery on his way in. Yeah, killing him would be way harder than just getting crushed by cogwheels, but it was still painful.

Inside the inky darkness of the machine he couldn’t see a thing, so he had to guide himself using his sense of touch…and that proved to be a bit problematic when he touched a specific part of the machine that was awfully hot. He retreated with a scream, his original intention to curse ruined by his kid-friendly nature as only cartoony sounds such as squeaks and honks came out of his mouth. Well…at least he had an idea of where the issue was now.

He adjusted his gloves in a cartoony style, took a deep breath and, using some cold ink to soak his hand in hopes that would somehow help, he gave some quick touches to the hot area until he identified something that felt a lot like a half-melted cartridge of some kind.

“Ok…I need to pull this thing out and now, otherwise it might harm the system and dear Satan, I don’t want to deal with that mess…at the count of three…one” He got ready, soaking his gloved hand on ink again “…two” He approached the hand to the foreign object, close enough for him to feel the heat that came from it “…THREE!” And with that, he grabbed the object and yanked with all his strength, successfully removing it from the machinery though causing a bright glow and several sparks to come out from it.

He had no time to react, and even if he did there was no way for him to prepare for what was coming next, as the burning sparks landed on him, and the glow blinded him for a few seconds. For some reason his mind didn’t process the idea of letting go of the strange, burning object that he was holding, and instead he kept a tight hold on it as some boiling-hot ink washed over him after he had freed the mechanism. Before he knew it, he had lost consciousness.