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29 April 2007 @ 12:34 pm
The Contractverse  

I don't know if you have been following Exigenises by Priority - House after the Contract: but she wrote this really creepy bit about a pencil. 

"It's easy, really, to deafen a man. All it takes is something like this." House remembered being tied to a chair, the lawyer's cheap cologne stealing his breath, feeling the pencil at his ear. He didn't dare jerk his head away. It would only anger the man.

A couple of prison guards had liked using the same threat -- either that, or blinding him. And House knew better than to show how much that frightened him. A lifetime of no sound, no sight. There would be only smell, and taste ... and touch. A lifetime of pain and nothing to distract him from it. If he let them see how much the thought terrified him, they would have jumped to do it. A deaf, blind man could still feel pain. He could suffer exquisitely.

For whatever reason, his tormentors had never gone through with it, but the nightmare thoughts had plagued him ever since. He had dreams of nothingness, broken by the vibration of footsteps, and cruel hands grabbing him. Couldn't see the blows coming, couldn't hear the threats, couldn't do anything but feel the pain ...

And that totally creeped me out. And as it such a lovely Sunday morning I decided to creep myself out...


She is ushered in to the living room and Clarence nods as she enters. She has no idea how she will be able to communicate with a blind and deaf man who may or may or not be crazy. 


He’s lying asleep on his side in a blow-up paddling pool adorned with cartoon fish. It takes up most of the living room. He is enveloped amidst a multitude of blankets and pillows. He is flopped so carelessly he looks like a giant scruffy puppy.


Doctor Wilson explained they got the pool for him because the psychiatrist had said that after so many years of walls and corners and cold hard floors and hurt ‘soft’ might be nice. Doctor Wilson says he seems to feel comfortable there and will uncurl a bit. So apparently Greg, or House as Wilson calls him, likes his paddling pool.


His arms are outstretched and his feet twitch.


His hands are reaching out for something and just like a sleeping dog he makes small ‘bwuffing’ noises.


He is dreaming.



He tried to make himself as small as possible. Legs up, head down, arms curled around himself. He was a little impenetrable ball. Nothing could get to him. He rocked happily. He was safe in his own little cocoon of warmth. That’s what he desperately wanted to believe. But he knew this was a lie. He was cold. He was always cold. At any moment he might feel a yank on his chain and then they could do what they wanted with him. Pull him up, roll him over: toss the cripple, hit the cripple, roll the cripple over, he sing songed to himself in his head. No point in speaking now even if he was allowed. Can’t hear yourself scream now Greg can you.


He hated that chain. He pulled and pulled and pulled on it until he scraped the skin off his palms and his wrists bled, but it never broke. He dreamed that one day/night/whatever it would just pop right out of the wall with a big cartoon pop. He could see the big red cartoon POP! in his mind’s eye. See: sight was overrated anyway. All you really needed to do was feel. 


Feel, like an eel: slippery and slimy and cold hard. Everything in his world was cold hard or hot pain. Pepper spray hot. Hot like electricity as it ran through you and you cried. You knew you were crying because you could feel the wetness on your face. And then you cried more because you realized you were not allowed to cry.


But that’s why God invented rib spreaders. To teach you a lesson Greg.


He must be a very slow learner. That’s what dad used to say wasn’t it? Pull ‘em down; bend over… hold still and remember the lesson.


Was there a reason for this? Oh yes: stupidity. The Jew boy. Never should have got involved with him. Knew it was a bad idea. I’m not going to send him a Christmas card this year.


And the girl. The dead girl. The girl who was dead. The girl it was who died.


Did I know her?


But the Jew boy is safe. That’s important right?


Did I know him?


No time for that now Greg. He can feel like an eel – the hands: cold, slimy and hard.


Hit the cripple, toss the cripple, turn the cripple over.



Judging by the way his hands are twitching he is dreaming of something bad. Wilson goes over and with an apologetic look begins to gently stroke his hair. House slowly begins to calm down.


“He doesn’t understand, we think,” he says. “That it is over. So he won’t speak because he is too afraid of reprisals.” Wilson says the last word with distaste. He checks House’s pulse and puts his hand on House’s heart. “And we have no way to tell him that it is okay now. We need to find a way to communicate with him.”


House gently ‘bwuffs’ under him, his body hiccupping as he does. Wilson carelessly runs a hand through House’s hair.


“You can help right,” he asks with a desperation she can too plainly see.


She looks at the sleeping man. “I’ll try.”

Bonaparteskyvehicle on April 29th, 2007 02:42 am (UTC)
Hey sup Sheep? Your stuff is excellent... but write something less creepy for a change, one of these days. Because you've written it, I am compelled to read it. But now am creeped out. That's so scary, how he doesn't and can't know it's over. Ngahhh.
diysheepdiysheep on April 29th, 2007 03:00 am (UTC)
Hey! I write fun stuff about Zombie Wilson/House lurve and Cuddy locking House up the psych ward too you know. Oh someone did the cutest cartoon of Zombie Wilson hugging House - with his eye hanging out and everything. I must find that.
Bonaparteskyvehicle on April 29th, 2007 03:06 am (UTC)
One can only be happy once they've reached a state of rotting immortality. I would very much like to see that drawing, if you can find it.
nightdog_barks: House Wilson togethernightdog_barks on April 29th, 2007 02:50 am (UTC)
Why do I click on your fics? Why why why why why ...

Why can't you do this to Wilson? Just once? Heh.
diysheepdiysheep on April 29th, 2007 02:58 am (UTC)
Have you visited Wilson_sick yet?
the DreamsEnder: TimeWalker of Atlantisperspi on April 29th, 2007 03:03 am (UTC)
There's a sick_house now, too. :)
nightdog_barks: House Badassnightdog_barks on April 29th, 2007 03:06 am (UTC)

Yes, I have. You and your tissues for Sick!Wilson.

Sheep, you're wonderful.
diysheepdiysheep on April 29th, 2007 03:38 am (UTC)
A sick House!

Look I am all for hurt/comfort stories, but the amount of House gets pneumonia stories abounding on ff.pit of voles is giving me a case of the sniffles.

How about a 'House goes to Tahiti and has hot sex' story or something. Just because he works in a hospital doesn't mean he catches everything. Although actually my doctor had just broken her arm... maybe it is contagious.
the DreamsEnder: TimeWalker of Atlantisperspi on April 29th, 2007 03:02 am (UTC)
Oh, man, sheep, that *was* creepy.

That part in Priority's story was chilling, and you just took it to its logical conclusion.

Would House, at some point, recognize Wilson, if Wilson were to give him a hug? Would he recognize Wilson by touch, or by smell?

*breaks into little perspi pieces*
diysheepdiysheep on April 29th, 2007 03:35 am (UTC)
He did recognise Wilson. The first time they met and he 'felt' - pudgy/ugly tie - Wilson he spoke. He said one word: 'Wilson', but he hasn't spoken a word since.

I am never going to look at a pencil the same way again.
the DreamsEnder: TimeWalker of Atlantisperspi on April 29th, 2007 01:25 pm (UTC)
The first time they met and he 'felt' - pudgy/ugly tie - Wilson he spoke. He said one word: 'Wilson', but he hasn't spoken a word since.

OH! *there goes more perspi pieces*

I'm very glad you didn't actually do this in The Contract, sheep. Very glad.

And at least your One Blind House can hear. :)

I love the pool. I think House would like a lovesac--it's basically a giant beanbag, but it's stuffed with foam and it's really soft and fluffy and fantastic. Our cats have co-opted ours and believe it's a giant catbed. And I've officially put too much thought into this little story already.

I am never going to look at a pencil the same way again.

Oh, me neither.
alex51324alex51324 on May 14th, 2007 01:05 am (UTC)
OK, I just went to the site for the lovsac, and it says this:

"before you'll be able to enjoy your new LoveSac you'll need to do some serious fluffing. Fluffing consists of flipping, rotating, and massaging your Sac. Click here to read the fluffing instructions. Invite your friends and family over to help fluff your Sac. The more you fluff your Sac, the more fluffy your Sac becomes."

They absolutely must have done that on purpose. All the more reason, really, that House should have a lovsac.
alex51324alex51324 on April 29th, 2007 08:35 am (UTC)
Argh...anything in the Contractverse is just the thing to read before toddling off to bed, no?

That said, I do like the wading pool nest. I once jumped into a big bin full of pillows in a store. It was very comfy. I had to get out when I saw someone who worked there coming, though. Ever since, I've thought it would be nice to have a giant box of pillows at home. Logistical problems have prevented me from making one, though.
diysheepdiysheep on April 29th, 2007 10:18 am (UTC)
I have so many pillows and cushions on my bed it isn't funny. Oh - and you have reminded me - off to read more of the PLOT. Hope the job thing works out.
daisylily: eating Chinese and laughingdaisylily on April 29th, 2007 09:38 am (UTC)
*whimper* I love how real your writing is, but that also has the unfortunate effect of really creeping me out here. Luckily it's Sunday morning here now, and lovely and sunny, so I am a lot less creeped out than I would be if I'd read it last night...

I think you should write some more of your zombie fic. Zombie Wilson is totally wonderful.
daisylily: eating Chinese and laughingdaisylily on April 29th, 2007 09:53 am (UTC)
P.S. I hate to ask, but what are rib spreaders?
diysheepdiysheep on April 29th, 2007 10:20 am (UTC)
A rib spreader is basically a nightstick with a big hollow metal ball on the end - like those nuclear subs with the round thing at the front. The point of a rib spreader is that you can hit a prisoner and it causes the maximum amount of pain, but doesn't break the ribs causing internal damage or leave bruises. They are in use today in American prisons

It is funny (but not in a good way): I was having this argument with Namaste about how the Contract was too far fetched. She said that could never happed in America. Ironically that day I had just spent 20 minutes in an Amnesty International replica of a Guantanamo Bay cell (6 x 8 ft) and I spent most of my incarceration staring at the shackles that held the prisoner to the floor. So yes, technically she was in fact right. That sort of thing doesn't happen in America - actually it does. I was just chatting to this Brit doco maker about the unbelieveable levels of corruption in the American prison system.

And of course - you can always outsource to Pakistan.

But I am thinking of a new Zombie Wilson story. Enough with the death and horror and on to the dead people.
daisylily: eating Chinese and laughingdaisylily on April 29th, 2007 03:46 pm (UTC)
That's actually slightly better than what 'rib spreader' makes me think of, because I immediately thought of the surgical implement, and using that on a conscious someone would be extremely unpleasant, if not fatal.

Not to say that the nightstick-type rib spreader isn't totally horrendous. I remember reading your 'conversation' with Namaste and wondering how anyone could believe that it doesn't happen - you're in prison, they'll do what they want with you, especially if you're in for life. Horrific stuff. (Have you ever seen Glass House, btw - ancient film starring Alan Alda and set in a prison. I saw it 25 years ago and it's stayed with me, because it was so vivid, and frightening.)

Thank goodness for dead Wilson to cheer us up (and that's something I don't say every day...)
diysheepdiysheep on April 30th, 2007 01:15 am (UTC)
Everything in The Contract is taken from real life. And in some cases toned down. You don't even need a crazy billionare organizing it all: it just happens.
wihluta: FloridaSwampSkimmerwihluta on April 29th, 2007 01:39 pm (UTC)
ok, now I'm completely creeped out, even though it's a sunny sunday afternoon. I don't know how you do it, but whenever I read one of your pieces I can actually see the pictures in my head, hear the sounds and smell it... You're brilliant at creepy stuff!
Luckily your recaps are funny, or I would start to hide in my apartment, because once I'm online I can't help but read everything you post... :-)

*pulls a H/Wslash-fic over to cheer herself up*
jdr1184 on April 29th, 2007 02:33 pm (UTC)
House goes to Tahiti and has hot sex' [with Wilson] story By all means write that one, Sheep. I am going to go off and read fluffy smut now. I'll have you know I just finished standardized testing last week where I was in a room filled with pencils. I had a whole stack of pre-sharpen pencils on hand for student use. I had no idea I was in such danger. Yikes!
chaoskirchaoskir on April 29th, 2007 07:12 pm (UTC)
"We need to find a way to communicate with him."
Please search for a way. Please. I´m still impressed since this afternoon. And I need a sequel. Really I need it. Please do something Sheep. Oh and hey you are really a brilliant author. Thank you for your weird creepy wonderful stories. I loved your fics and I think I don´t loosed my mind because you can´t loose something what you never had.
alex51324alex51324 on May 14th, 2007 01:03 am (UTC)
Last night when I couldn't sleep (until 7 AM, and I had to get up at ten to go to my grandmother's. Sucked. Anyway--) I figured out how House and Wilson can communicate when he is blind and deaf. So, with the Sheep's permission, I will sequel again.
alex51324alex51324 on May 14th, 2007 01:11 am (UTC)
Sheep, does the lady therapist have a name?
diysheepdiysheep on May 14th, 2007 01:24 am (UTC)
Elizabeth. But I was thinking that too. He can speak, but won't - so how do they communicate with him? It reminds me of Helen Keller.
alex51324alex51324 on May 14th, 2007 01:30 am (UTC)
Well, if I'm going to write the story, I don't want to just *tell* you. But if you want to write it, I suppose I could tell you.
diysheepdiysheep on May 14th, 2007 06:47 am (UTC)
Write away Alex. All I remember is how they used to write letters on her palm. Maybe you should give House a Lovesac.
chaoskirchaoskir on May 14th, 2007 10:01 am (UTC)
Yep *shaking* Yep, please. Do it!! I would be glad if you do that. Thanks Alex. Oh and I´m sorry for your sleepless time. But thankfully for your thoughts while you don´t sleep.
alex51324alex51324 on May 15th, 2007 05:49 am (UTC)
OK, here is the first bit of the Creepy Pencil Thing followup. House ended up, I think, not being quite as impaired as he seemed in Sheepy's snippet. But he's still pretty badly off.

Dee Laundrydeelaundry on April 29th, 2007 09:24 pm (UTC)
Oh my. House, I often tell you that you need to get out of your head, but more desperately you need to get out of Sheep's head.

Powerful as always, Sheep.
bmax67: The eyebmax67 on April 30th, 2007 02:46 am (UTC)
Whoa, that was um, creepy yet you still pull me in and I read your stuff with undivided attention.

I just reread The Contract again the other day. Yikes. So good yet sooo scary.

Yes, this stuff happens in American prisons, unfortunately.

Keep up the creepiness! I love it!
Hibernia (yesterday is tomorrow, only backwards)hibernia1 on April 30th, 2007 09:25 am (UTC)
Ow... your story hurts... but I still need to read it...(that's actually meant as a compliment!)... I hope there'll be a way to communicate...
ベル物 (bell)usomitai on April 30th, 2007 01:36 pm (UTC)

Where can I find the contractverse fic?
diysheepdiysheep on April 30th, 2007 09:10 pm (UTC)
On the left hand side of my journal (on the recent entries page) there is a link to 'The Contract and other Angsty Stories' - that has links to all the Contract related stories.
(Anonymous) on January 18th, 2011 12:42 pm (UTC)
provides access
Nice one, might come in handy in the near future