A micro-fiction story under 300 words that I wrote about a man who appears to have been kidnapped.

Blurry. Everything blurry. Where... where was I? Voices. Voices everywhere. Green numbers in front of me. A four? No. Black again. Clearer this time. A clock was on the table, reading 11:30. At night? Dirty stucco walls surrounded me, no more than 10 feet both ways. Other than the clock in the middle of the floor along with the cold metal chair where I was handcuffed, the room was vacant. Searching for the events of the last few hours, I drew a blank. A middle aged man working hard just to get by and provide for his family, no money, no high position. A sound behind the door, quiet, then a ear splitting groan as an old, unrecognizable bearded man with glasses entered. The man spoke quietly but clearly, “Hello, Steven.”

“Why am I here? How do you know my name?” I asked, quite confuzzled.

“How highly do you value your left leg? Too high to give to someone in need?” He chuckled while he exited.

“What do you want? What do you want with me!” I yelled at him as he left. Before I had a chance to think, the clock struck twelve, and a small clack contraction raised out of the clock. It gave a small hiss as something shot into my chest from the device. Black again. Regaining my senses, I found I lay a metal table smelling highly of antiseptic. I took in my surroundings, a large light leaned over the table, and other surgical equipment lay on a cart. I moved to get up, eager to escape. I swung my legs over the side of the table. Then came crashing to the floor. My leg. It was gone.

I looked up, horrified.“You would be amazed what you can sell on the internet, Steven.”

Submitted: February 20, 2014

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