Wikichan/Sadako

Sadako is the name of the protagonist (or perhaps villain) of the "Ringu" series that originated in Japan. It spawned a copypasta in /b/ that was later archived in Wikichan and now brought to you today.

Story

I sat there, flipping channels autonomously, waiting for the codeine to kick in. Ann Coulter flapped her lip through the mucous-green glass of the set. There was Mickey Mouse, a talking head leering between suspenders, burger-flipping sponge, Keanu Reeves focusing the chi, all there for everyone but me.

“It’s not lupus,” I heard a voice carry through electronic distortion. I was starting to feel a little out of my head.

I felt my stomach churn. I was hungry. I went to move, reflexively, but I couldn’t. One week ago, as I was driving home from my mother’s house, I hit a tree cloaked in the London fog. I had been distracted by what we had both just witnessed—a videotape that disturbed her and infected my brain with hopeless worry. But now, I had forgotten about the tape, for I had no time to worry about simple images. I was now a paraplegic, unable to feel anything from the thighs up.

The case worker from the hospital that stayed with me had left for the night after making me a small dinner and setting me up in front of the television. I was helpless without her until I had the strength to use a wheelchair.

The sun was setting; orange and purple traced through dust and laid themselves upon my cataract. I was blind in my left eye from a puncture wound. What remained was grey and rust colored scar tissue habitually bleeding. I was disfigured, I was alone, and my ears began to fill with droning, warbling ringing. I reached, my arm moving in painfully slow motion, for the remote control so I could turn off the TV. But then, the TV image shook, and for a split second, there was blue and black static, like an ocean of crawling, drowning bodies.

Flicker.

Was this the codeine? Was this the winure of the TV station? Had my set broken?

Flicker.

Static.

The screen was now a field of static; a guttural sound began to fill the room and rattle my ears. This was unreal. The sound was like the bass of a cello, playing as a droning, painful melody for the torture of my mind. Each creak, each knife-like vibration, brought my heart to an anxious pulse. Then, abruptly, the static and noise vanished, and what remained was a still image of a hewn-stone well amidst a dead grove of trees. Was this some sort of bizarre advertisement? The scene seemed so lifeless and desolate, but then, I saw something move. My heart faulted. Something white slithered over the edge of the stones. A thing—no, a person—was climbing out of the well. It raised its head, which was weighted up in wet, black hair. I couldn't see the person’s face. My body began to crawl, bitten all over by drying scabs and wounds.

The being hoisted itself out of the well and began to lazily shamble toward me. It was a girl. She was pale looked waterlogged, like a dead thing that had fallen into a lake, preserved by the natural acids of fallen leaves. She was drawing closer. I felt sick now, unable to convince myself that this was a joke or an fag, unable to calm my heart. All I could see was her black hair covering the entire screen. Then, I screamed. The girl’s hand reached out of my television.

"Wha-, what are you!?" I shrieked. She pulled herself out of my set, raised her head, and gazed at me.

"Sada...ko..." she croaked. Her body fell to my floor in a sickening, wet slap. She was crawling to me now, and I was completely helpless. There was nothing I could do but scream. And yet, no one could hear me, so I screamed in hopelessness.

The dead girl descended on me, hanging over my body with her corpselike gape. She pushed me up; her ice cold hand connected with my arm as she forced herself on top of me. I knew I was going to die. I knew she'd strangle me.

It was then that I realized she was naked. Her skin was cloud white, like a thin layer of candle wax molded perfectly over tender violet flowers; her cold breasts were translucent with bluish nipples. She was a moving statue of pearly marble with a web of vines growing throughout. As she raised her head above me, I could see that her face was as thin and white as her young body and her eyes were rolled back into her head, without pupils.

Sadako dropped herself onto me and I felt a tremendous cold fear that I had never experienced before. Water was dripping onto me as she writhed. She hissed and croaked and moaned; her breath was like a cold, still wind stolen from a grave. She pushed her head up and sealed her lips over mine. I felt sick. Her frigid tongue caressed my teeth slowly as she seemingly ate at my mouth. I felt horrified when I realized I was being unwillingly aroused. She was already slowly humping the lump in my pants.

"T..ake... them off..." she hissed; as she pulled her mouth from mine, cold saliva dripping onto my chest. Sadako then kissed me again, continuing to consume my face with her grip-like jaw. She gently gnawed at the sides of my mouth and teeth.

“I can’t,” I moaned. “Oh God, Jesus Christ, oh God…” There was nothing else for me to say. She reached up and pulled my pants to my knees, so that my now erect PENIS was available to her. This was too sick. It was so horrible and so wrong. I was being raped.

She sat upon me and braced herself up with her hands griping my shoulders. I looked up and saw her hovering above my PENIS; she was holding it up with one thin hand as she began to descend on me. My PENIS felt cold when her blue-white vulva brushed against it, but then, I felt suddenly strange. As she lowered herself onto me, as I entered her, I felt warm. She pushed herself up on me, sheathing me with her soft, slippery folds. I felt so different now. A transcendent feeling drowned my brain. Maybe it was the morphine, maybe I was insane, but I loved her.

I reached out slowly and ran a my finger up her emaciated stomach. It was as cold as soft snow. I held my hand against her and felt the gentle curve of her abdomen; I traced up her body and touched her pallid breast. I felt pleasure now. I felt togetherness. She was going up and up, and with every thrust she heaved and hissed. Her breathing was heavy and deliberate. Her eyes were clenched shut. She was so beautiful.

Existence, consciousness, all began to feel different and insignificant to my obsession with Sadako. I hated everything but her. I hated my useless shell of a body. I wanted to be her.

She pushed herself up on me as far as she could go. She rubbed herself against my pubic bone. I shivered and gasped; she smiled up at me like a goddess. With each of her movements, I could feel her spongy interior grasping and caressing me with gentle care. It was like a loving touch of her hand on me, a thousand times as powerful as anything in my life had ever been. I was becoming heart-wrenched. I curled my arms around her and pulled her cold body to my chest. I hugged her like this, I squeezed her tightly, I called her name and sealed shut my eyes.

“I love you,” I cried. “I really, really do.”

Sadako wound her arms around my neck and bore her knobby fingers into my back, massaging my spine and pushing me forward, flush with her body. She ground her hips against me and with every stroke her puffy lips tightened around the base of my shaft, making a wet, slurping, sucking sound. I could feel the tight knot inside her slide across the head of my PENIS over and over, each time causing her to shiver and release a childish pant. She gripped my PENIS from within and threw her head back; her wet black hair showered me in an aerosol of mist as she violently buckled. Waves of contracting, vibrating flesh stroked me to orgasm. I felt hollow for a moment, then I exploded. I came in her. The feeling wouldn't stop. Everything was spinning now, everything was going white.

We sat upon a field of white, staring up at darkened vales of blue and grey, the sun peaking above the tops of silent trees. I lay with my back resting upon the side of the hill; Sadako nestled her soft head in my arms. I could feel her gentle heartbeat.

My legs could move. I was free. Both of us, together, in one mind, no need to even speak with images of love and understanding transferring between us unobstructed. I ran my hand through her silky hair and looked up at her, laughing. Her body, bound in a loose white dress, curled itself into my lap and stared up at me.

The sound of a distortion.

The sound of one thousand shards.

The sound of endless frustration.

The feeling of the bottom of a well. Envy. Jealousy. Hate. Wanting to be free, no way to turn but hate, no way to love. A win brings pleasure.

Her eyes opened, with irises gone. I stared through those holes at bloody retinas killing me without a sound. I could see forever.

“You hate me, don’t you?” I said.

“Yes. With every nerve in our dead legs, in our dead brain, in our dead thoughts. Yes, I hate you.”

The distortion amplified. And then...

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