You're Next

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
The male woke up with a jerk in a dark, gloomy, musty room with the sound of slow, constant dripping sound of water falling down from the broken pipes that made up the ceiling and coated the walls.

Submitted: September 07, 2016

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Submitted: September 07, 2016

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Note: This story isn't very good right now. I'm dead tired, but my friend suggested I make a short horror story, so here you guys go. :) Enjoy this awful storyline. Remodeling and revisions will be done tomorrow, hopefully, if I get to it, so.

 

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The male woke up with a jerk in a dark, gloomy, musty room with the sound of slow, constant dripping sound of water falling down from the broken pipes that made up the ceiling and coated the walls.


His eyelids were heavy and his head was spinning rapidly into a blurry mess. He yanked his wrists forward but found they were chained to the wall, steel metal vectors confining him; binding him to his hopeless future. The chains rattled and shook as he struggled, but to no avail: he was stuck in this cold, rusty pit of hell.
His breath hitched as what he assumed to be a huge iron-steel door creaking open. An ominous wind blew in his direction, causing him to shiver as the chilly air hit against his bare, scarred, battered body. The room instantly filled with a horrific stench, and the male gagged on the smell that had wafted into his nostrils. Thump. Thump. Thump. The heavy, delayed footsteps got closer and closer until his felt his heart pounding in his ears. It wasn't until he got closer that he really understood the extent of what he was forced to smell: the decaying flesh of another human being...

The man stopped just inches in front of him, holding up a pair of scissors completely caked in dried blood, opening and shutting the blades forcefully and loudly, laughing like a crazed maniac. "You're next..." the man mumbled. He clearly had some sort of speech impediment, as he slurred his words and could hardly pronounce his r's, but that didn't stop the eery, creepy vibe that the man gave off.

The male went to scream for help, but nothing came out. He tried with all his might, but still nothing. He then felt it...the blood slowly trickling down his bare chest. The source of the blood? His neck, where his vocal chords should've been. His eyes widened in fear as the world began growing dark once more, but he had just enough light left in his field of vision to see the slow, methodical practices the psycho male was doing as he was carefully relinquishing him of the intestines from his stomach.

 


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