The Madman's Guide to Miracles

A few days had passed since I ended up here. The Broodmother visited every day. Sometimes she’d replace the flowers resting on my body. Other times she’d run her fingers over the nails driven through my palms and smile.

"They suit you," she’d whisper. "We’ll keep them."

Then there was the black sludge.

Every time they stitched another piece of skin onto me, they’d force my mouth open and pour it down my throat. It tasted rotten. Like mold, stagnant water, spoiled meat, and dirt mixed into one. The smell alone made me gag.

It burned going down.

My throat felt raw afterward, like I’d swallowed shattered glass. I’d cough until I threw up whatever little remained in my stomach.

Then they’d make me drink another bowl.

...

I hadn’t been counting the days anymore, but I’d been here long enough. My lips were cracked, my body barely staying awake.

The door creaked open.

The Broodmother stepped inside once again, her towering stitched figure filling the room. She looked at me with the same warm smile she’d worn every day.

"Ahh... you’re looking even more magnificent than the other day, my child." The Broodmother let out a delighted giggle, several of her countless hands rising to cover her stitched smile as though she were a bashful young lady.

It appeared completely wrong. It gave me a creepy feeling.

I concealed my feelings. I had been pretending for days. The black sludge they kept forcing into my mouth was meant to break me and make me compliant. Perhaps it would have succeeded with someone else.

Not me. Or... at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. The truth was, I wasn’t sure how much of myself I still owned. Each day, my thoughts seemed a bit more unfamiliar, a little more difficult to recognize.

So I smiled back.

I needed her trust.

More than anything...

’I needed off this fucking wall.’

She stepped in front of me, two of her hands gently cupping my cheeks.

"I know how badly you’ve wanted to leave this room." Her smile softened. "To finally play with your brothers and sisters."

She brushed a thumb across my face.

"I think you’re ready now."

Finally.

The word burst inside my mind like fireworks.

Fucking finally.

Every nerve in my body urged me to either laugh, yank out these nails, or run as far away as I could from this insane, miserable family.

I buried it all.

I let my shoulders loosen, lowered my gaze, and forced the corners of my lips into the timid smile she’d been waiting to see.

"...Really?" My voice came out hoarse. "I... can finally be with everyone?"

"Ahh... how lovely. How adorable... you’ve turned out even better than I imagined, my sweet, sweet little boy." She giggled, one of the stitched mouths along her neck opening to release a putrid, vile breath that reeked of rot.

"Thank you... Mother." I lowered my head.

Inside, things were quite different. Anyone observing my thoughts would believe they belonged to a completely different person.

"Sooo... since it’s been a while, my child, and I think you’re finally ready..." She swayed excitedly, several hands clapping together. "I’ll finally give you a name! And you’ll get to leave this room too... kehe~ Ahahaha!!"

She leaned in until I could feel her breath.

"Are you happy? Your lovely motherrrr is finally going to name you."

A harrowing shiver crawled down my spine.

Every stitched mouth across the Broodmother’s body slowly opened at once. The room fell silent beneath her presence. She tilted her head, humming to herself.

"Hmm..."

Numerous hands clustered around her mouth as she fell into thought. It might have looked quite humorous—if she weren’t THAT of course.

Snap.

The children appeared almost instantly, as though they’d been waiting just outside the room.

"Mother..." the eldest sister called softly, lowering her head.

"Is it finally time? Is big brother getting a name?!" the timid little sister bounced excitedly.

The man adjusted the cracked spectacles stitched onto his face. "You’ve kept him waiting long enough."

The fourth child, a lanky boy whose limbs were stitched together in the wrong places, leaned against the doorway with a crooked grin.

"Took you long enough, Mother. I was starting to think you’d keep him nailed up forever."

"Hmm..."

The Broodmother’s countless eyes remained stitched shut as she tilted her head, genuinely giving it thought.

Then she smiled.

"Bloom..."

She repeated it softly, savoring the sound.

"Yes..."

One by one, every stitched mouth across her body curled into the same delighted smile.

"Bloom." She cupped my face with trembling hands. "Because you bloomed so beautifully beneath my care. Even after all the pain... you still grew into such a wonderful child."

Her fingers gently brushed against the stitches running across my skin.

"From this day onward"

"You are Bloom."

...Bloom?

What kind of Twisted bullshit is that?

The moment I get out of here I’m feeding every last one of you to the fucking Horrors.

My face remained still.

"...Bloom..." I whispered, forcing the name over my tongue. "...I... like it."

The room erupted into delighted laughter.

"Come, Bloom." The Broodmother smiled and stepped back. "I can’t have my precious child greeting the family like this."

’Then pull the damn nails out.’

She raised a finger instead.

"...?"

Every one of the children immediately backed away.

Her fingertip tapped the stone beside me.

The wall exploded.

Stone, dust, and shattered rock erupted behind me, but the nails through my palms and legs never moved. For a heartbeat, I simply hung there before the collapsing wall tore the spikes free from the masonry instead of my flesh. Gravity took over, and I crashed onto the floor hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

...Right.

Why would the woman stitched together with thirty fucking hands do the normal thing?

She crouched beside me, gently brushing the dust from my shoulder.

"There," she said with a pleased smile. "Much better."

"Now then..." She clapped several hands together, practically swaying with excitement. "Let’s all go to dinner, shall we? Hehe~"

The eldest sister smiled faintly. "Welcome to the family... little brother."

The man adjusted his glasses with a quiet nod. "Congratulations."

I’m not part of this family. Not now. Not ever. The only thing keeping me sane is imagining what I’ll do

"Mother finally named him!" the timid little sister beamed, nearly skipping in place.

"Come here, Lil’ Sis." I smiled, gently cupping her cheeks.

One day I’m going to pull every stitch off your body.

She froze for a heartbeat before letting out a delighted squeal.

"Eee~! Big Brother finally likes me!" She leaned into my hands, cheeks flushed. "I knew you’d come around!"

"See?" the Broodmother beamed. "I knew you’d all get along."

The eldest sister narrowed her eyes before letting out a quiet sigh.

...She’s changed.

From everything I’d seen these past few days, she used to fit in perfectly. She laughed with the others. Smiled when Mother smiled.

Lately...

It looked forced.

What happened?

"He touched her first?" the stitched boy clicked his tongue. "That’s favoritism."

"I-I want a hug too..." the timid little sister pouted, still clinging to my arm.

The man adjusted his glasses with a faint smile. "He’s settling in faster than I thought."

The eldest sister remained quiet, watching me for a moment before looking away. "...I’m glad you’re settling in, little brother."

"Of course, Big Sis." I smiled, my eyes still closed. "You’ve done so much for me. I haven’t forgotten how you taught me my manners. I’d like to repay you someday."

’Oh, I’ll repay you.’

The eldest sister flinched before the tension slowly left her shoulders.

"...Don’t mention it, Bloom." She scratched the back of her head with an awkward laugh. "I just wanted you to fit in a little faster."

Bloom. She even used that disgusting name.

The Broodmother clapped her hands together, her voice echoing through the room.

"Now then! Dinner!" She beamed. "Little Bloom’s already dressed, so we can finally go. It’ll be his first dinner... as my child. As your brother."

My eyes examined the stitched patches of skin and the twisted vines coiling around my body. This? This is what these insane bastards call clothes?

The Broodmother rested a hand against my back and gently nudged me forward. The children gathered around me as if afraid I’d wander off, chatting amongst themselves while leading me through the ruined hallway. It was only now that I realized this place wasn’t some underground dungeon.

It was a house.

Or... it had once been.

The ceiling sagged beneath roots thick as pillars. Flesh-colored vines crawled across the walls, disappearing beneath warped wooden beams before emerging somewhere else entirely. Furniture had fused with bark, chairs growing into the floor while cupboards breathed with a slow, rhythmic pulse. The whole place felt alive.

What the hell happened here?

The front door creaked open.

Warm air greeted my face.

I stepped outside—

—and froze.

Stretching before the house was what could only be described as a nursery.

Rows upon rows of flowers covered the clearing, swaying gently despite the absence of wind. Some resembled roses. Others had translucent petals veined with something disturbingly similar to blood vessels. Towering trees arched overhead, their branches woven together into a living canopy that drowned the world in emerald light.

Scarecrows stood between the flowerbeds.

No...

Not scarecrows.

People.

Their bodies had been rooted into the soil, flowers blooming from hollow eye sockets while vines disappeared beneath their skin. They remained perfectly still, smiling toward the sky as though they had chosen to become part of the garden.

I’m never eating vegetables again...

•••

•••

••

•

The nursery slowly gave way to a narrow stone path lined with towering flowers that instinctively bent aside as the Broodmother walked past. The children followed close behind, practically surrounding me.

"Don’t wander off, Big Brother," the timid little sister said as she wrapped herself around my arm.

"As if he could," the stitched boy snickered.

"Leave him alone," the eldest sister muttered.

"Everyone behaves at dinner," the man added calmly.

Ahead, a massive wooden door came into view, stitched together from uneven planks and crawling with thick roots. The Broodmother pushed it open with a delighted smile.

"We’re here."

Rows of mismatched chairs surrounded a long wooden table. I watched the others take their places. The eldest sister sat first, followed by the man.

Just as the timid little sister was about to sit—

"WAIT."

The Broodmother’s voice cracked through the room.

Every child froze.

"Your big brother sits first."

The words weren’t loud.

They didn’t need to be.

The walls trembled. My skin prickled as the sound burrowed beneath it, vibrating through my bones and settling somewhere deep inside my skull.

I-I got so excited... I forgot... M-My apologies, Mother... " the little sister whispered, immediately stepping away from the chair.

I slowly took my seat, careful not to rush it.

"Thank you, Mother." I lowered my head before glancing at the timid little sister. "And... please don’t be too hard on Lil’ Sis. She didn’t know."

The Broodmother blinked.

Then every stitched smile on her body widened.

"Ahh... listen to him." She giggled. "He’s already looking after his little sister."

The timid girl’s face lit up.

"Big Brother..."

"Very well." The Broodmother nodded. "I’ll forgive her this once."

"T-Thank you, Mother!" the little sister squeaked before looking at me with sparkling eyes. "Thank you too, Big Brother..."

Yes.. keep trusting me.

Suddenly, the Broodmother snapped her fingers.

The house answered.

Vines tore themselves free from the walls, crawling across the floor before placing several trays onto the table.

I stared at them.

...

Oh.

Of course.

For a moment, I actually thought dinner might be normal.

Apparently, that was asking too much.

The trays were covered in flesh. Not meat. Flesh. Pale, misshapen pieces of something that looked far too close to human to be comfortable. Thick veins crawled across the surface, twitching faintly, while small worms burrowed in and out of the remains like they belonged there.

The smell reached me a second later.

Rot. Blood. Something sweet and sickening underneath it all.

My stomach turned.

This was expected

Of course, the stitched nightmare family doesn’t eat normal food. Why would they?

That would’ve been weird.

I forced my expression to remain calm.

The Broodmother clapped her hands together.

"Everyone, eat."

The children immediately moved into place.

"Finally," the stitched boy said, pulling his chair closer. "I thought we’d never start."

The little sister leaned toward me, practically glowing with excitement. "Big Brother’s first dinner with us..."

The man adjusted his cracked glasses. "Try not to overwhelm him."

"He’s fine," the boy replied with a grin. "Look at him. He’s already fitting in."

The eldest sister stayed quiet, her eyes briefly shifting toward me before returning to her plate.

I looked down.

The food sat neatly arranged in front of me.

Pale flesh. Twisted chunks of meat. Dark veins crawling across the surface like roots. Small worms moved through it, burrowing in and out as if this was completely normal.

My stomach immediately turned.

Fantastic.

My first family dinner and these freaks decided to serve something that looked like it crawled out of a corpse pit.

"Bloom."

I looked up.

The Broodmother smiled warmly.

"Eat."

...You have got to be kidding me.

I stared at the plate.

Refuse, and I lose her trust.

Hesitate, and they’ll notice.

So this was the game she wanted to play.

If I had to bet, this was their food. What they ate. What they enjoyed. Everyone here acted like it was normal, so I had my answer. If I wanted to keep fooling them, I had to eat it too.

Fine.

I picked up the piece of flesh with my fork.

My hand nearly froze. The texture was unpleasant—too soft and too fresh. I had to stop overthinking and resist the urge to examine it further.

Just swallow.

I forced it into my mouth.

The taste hit immediately.

Blood. Rot. Something sour and metallic that made my throat tighten.

My stomach tried to reject it.

I forced myself to swallow.

A single bite. Then one more.

Every fiber of my being wanted to spit it out, but I continued eating instead.

•••

•••

••

•

And so we all finished eating.

I wanted to puke.

My stomach had been twisting the entire time, but I buried it beneath a smile.

The others didn’t notice. Or maybe this was simply normal to them.

"That was delicious," the stitched boy said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "Mother’s cooking is still the best."

The little sister nodded excitedly. "Mhm! Big Brother ate a lot too!"

She looked genuinely happy. Like me finishing that meal meant something to her.

I forced another smile. "Of course. It was... good."

The words felt strange coming out of my mouth.

The man adjusted his cracked glasses. "You’re adapting faster than I expected."

The eldest sister stayed quiet. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment before she looked away.

The Broodmother gathered the empty plates as vines crawled across the table, carrying them away.

"I’m so happy," she whispered. "My children are finally together."

Every stitched mouth on her body curled into a smile.

"My little Bloom is finally home."

Home.

The word felt wrong.

I lowered my head. "Thank you, Mother."

My expression remained obedient.

My thoughts were already focused on one thing.

Getting my pouch this was the first step to everything

"Actually, Mother..."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

The Broodmother’s attention immediately shifted toward me.

"Hmm?"

I kept my expression calm, lowering my gaze slightly.

"Have you seen a pouch? When I was taken... I had it with me."

For a moment, silence filled the room.

The Broodmother’s stitched smiles remained, but her countless eyes stayed closed as she tilted her head.

"A pouch?"

Her voice remained soft, but it felt almost too soft.

"Why do you need it, my child?"

My heartbeat picked up.

There it was.

Suspicion.

Just curiosity.

I couldn’t hesitate.

"I... just wanted it back." I rubbed my fingers together nervously, letting my voice soften. "It was the only thing I had before coming here."

The Broodmother stared at me for a long moment.

"The only thing?"

I nodded.

"Yes, Mother."

Silence.

Then one of her hands gently reached over, brushing against my hair.

"Oh, Bloom..."

Her voice softened.

"You should have told me sooner."

The tension in my chest loosened slightly.

"I thought you might throw it away," I admitted quietly.

Several of her mouths opened in surprise.

Then she laughed.

"Throw it away?"

She sounded almost offended.

"Why would I throw away something that belonged to my precious child?"

My smile stayed in place.

Inside, I exhaled.

Okay.

She bought it.

The Broodmother tilted her head.

"Tell me what it looks like, Bloom."

My expression almost froze.

Alright, alright.

I needed to choose my next words carefully.

This could be a trap.

She wanted to know if I remembered anything from before I was brought here. Before I "became" one of them.

I didn’t think I had changed yet... but I couldn’t be certain.

Was memory loss normal? Did it happen to the others? Did the sludge do something to me?

I didn’t know.

Which meant I had to gamble.

"Hmm? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?"

My thoughts stopped.

I needed an answer.

I needed one now.

What should I say?

I had to take the risk.

"Ahh..." I lowered my gaze. "Mother... I don’t really remember."

The room went silent.

The Broodmother didn’t move. Not a single hand twitched.

"You don’t remember?"

Her voice was soft. Too soft.

My heartbeat grew heavier.

"I just know I had one before coming here," I continued carefully. "That’s all. I don’t really remember anything before then. For some reason... the only things I can remember clearly are my days with you, Mother."

Silence followed.

The Broodmother stared at me. Even with her countless eyes stitched shut, I could feel her attention pressing against me, as if she were searching for something beneath my words.

Then one of her hands slowly moved, gently touching my cheek.

"Oh..."

Her voice softened. "My poor little Bloom."

Her fingers traced the stitches across my skin.

"Did Mother hurt you so much that you forgot everything else?"

My expression nearly slipped.

"No, Mother."

The answer came too quickly. I corrected myself immediately.

"I mean... I don’t know."

Her smile widened slightly.

"You don’t know..." she repeated quietly.

The children stopped moving. Even the stitched boy had gone silent.

The Broodmother leaned closer.

"Tell me, Bloom..."

Her voice remained gentle.

Her voice remained soft and distorted. Every word carried the warmth of a mother’s affection, yet my instincts recognized it for what it was.

"Do you miss the life you had before me?"

My thoughts stalled for a moment.

That was the true question—she asked if I still had anything belonging to the person I once was.

I lowered my head.

"No, Mother."

I forced the words out calmly.

"I only know the life I have now."

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then a quiet giggle escaped her.

"Good."

Her hands wrapped around me in an almost gentle embrace.

"Very good."

My body stiffened.

"Then Mother will help you find your pouch."

Every stitched mouth on her body curled upward.

"After all... a mother should always return what belongs to her child."

I lowered my head.

"Thank you, Mother."

The words came out naturally. Almost too naturally.

I placed a hand over hers and gently pressed it against my cheek, just like a child would when seeking comfort.

The Broodmother froze for a moment.

Then every stitched mouth on her body slowly curved upward.

"Oh..."

A quiet, delighted sound escaped her.

"My sweet Bloom..."

She looked almost overwhelmed.

"You’re finally accepting me."

I smiled softly.

"Of course, Mother."

I genuinely wanted to know why my fate had such a strange obsession with mothers.

First Eliza, after she turned, trying to have her infant devour me the moment I woke up in that village.

Now, this stitched abomination, who claims to be my mother. By this point, I began to suspect I had offended some higher power responsible for my life, since watching me suffer seemed to be the closest thing it had to entertainment.

My fingers lightly traced over her stitched hand.

The same hand that had touched my wounds. The same hands that had held me down. The same hands that had decided nails belonged in my flesh.

How strange.

A few days ago, I would’ve rather bitten my own tongue off than touch her.

Now I was comforting her.

I almost laughed.

Was this what she wanted?

A child who smiled. A child who obeyed. A child who looked at her like she was his salvation instead of the monster keeping him trapped.

Sure~

I’d give her exactly that.

I’d become the perfect child she wanted.

I’d smile. I’d thank her. I’d call her Mother.

And when the time came...

I’d show her exactly what she had created.

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