Be Prepared

Surprises come in all shapes and sizes.

Feature Image Source

** Disclaimer: This is my most graphic story to date. Please be advised that before reading, if you are easily upset by violence or graphic content please move on to another post. **

Screams. The horrible, blood curdling, sudden screams. I have been locked in a room for who knows how long, without so much a light to see. The smell of urine and rusted metal prevail the room, musky with the added distaste of sweat. Shackles hold my hands together. Another scream shuddered through the silence, before falling to the deaf.

The darkness has my mind racing, time is no longer measurable. The true nature of fear and panic settle to dull ache as I await my turn for the torture room. Sometimes I think I see the flickering of red light underneath a small gap between floor and door, but passed it off as my mind playing tricks in my fevered mentality. I pull the chains that have me bound, but only find stability in their taut lengths. My head pounds against the bricks as I try to think of some way of escape.

Then there was a sound. Dull, distant at first. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Rhythmic, slow and pounding. My eyes search for some purchase of light, to give my torments a face or other thing to go with the menace. Thunk, thunk. Closer now, my mind racing. Then there was a heavy pounding, as if wood on metal. A red light began to flow towards me as the door slowly opened. The sudden luminance blinded my eyes. The heavy rapping of a rod against the tiles began, each a cacophonous, maddening barrage to ears all too accustomed to silence.

I tried to see. My eyes opened slowly as I began to glance upwards. The movement was met with a solid blow to the head. When I next came to, my eyes could barely open.

And I wish they hadn’t. I was suspended in the center of a large room. It was brightly lit, focus lights pointed to the center of the blood stained room. A man, far as I could tell from his hooded and bloodsoaked form, stood before me. There were others around, but none carried life. The man reached a filthy glove and pinched my chin within his thumb and forefinger. He forced my head left and right, then turned and nodded towards the far corner, beyond my lessened sight.

A woman stepped out from the shadows, a camera in hand. Black rimmed glasses framed vagrant blue eyes, eyes of the soulless. Her small, slender frame was wrapped in the finest of formal clothes, as if this was some business meeting rather than a deadly torture chamber. She sets the camera atop a tripod that the faceless man had pulled from afar, then smiles.

“Welcome to your death, Mr. Brewster.” She points to the camera beside her, the smile fading into a business focus. “We will be recording this for a niche group, ones who pay top dollar to see vivisections and bodily mutilation for pure enjoyment. Your rivals and enemies will thoroughly enjoy this.”

She then turns the camera on before leaving the room, a heavy door closing behind her. The man grunts, turns to the camera. His voice was a guttural growl unlike anything I have ever heard.

“The Judges have spoken. The sentence is death by torture.”

He shambles over to a chair with the remains of a woman. He pulls a gritted knife from within his apron and carves into her stomach. The woman suddenly screams, blood spurting from her mouth. Fear and agony begin to take my mind as I shift against the bonds holding my arms above me. They shook, but to no avail as the man began pulling her intestines from her gullet. He strings it out from her, then moves towards me, wrapping the still warm organs around my throat. The woman’s body began to convulsed heavily before a final death call rang from her lips, her head falling forward. I began to swing my legs against the shackles attached from below, trying to do whatever I could to squirm the sickly, quickly cooling membrane from my own skin.
Then there was a large boom. Blood covered my face as the man, whose head was now a cavity, fell to his knees. The camera was kicked, my mind racing as bodies began filling the room. “…too late for her…” voices swam as fast as the room, and I began to vomit. Soon, my sight was gone from fear, then shortly my mind.

This was the post I originally talked about here. I have decided to post the original one here for the sake of getting criticism for the style and storytelling, and would love to hear everyone’s thoughts.

Donate?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s