Subject P4C

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story a wrote for english. Not exactly 'horror', but I think that's a decent way to describe it.

Also, please forgive the starting of a sentence with 'but', twas not exactly my finest hour.

Submitted: November 24, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 24, 2012




Another day in this bunker, this long, winding prison I call home. The walls are lined with the blood of its former occupants, and the constant dripping sound suggests it’s fresh.

Once again, the sound of dripping blood is blocked out by those things, those monsters. The sound of them walking in these dark metal hallways is unmistakable. And it’s getting closer. The pills can help me though, the pills make everything normal again. Now, where did I last put them? Damn it! I left them in the halls! Outside of this barely stable safe house. Maybe, if I’m quiet they won’t hear me. I enter the hallway, searching for the pills. I can hear them getting closer. And I know I won’t have enough time. Why did I even agree to this sadistic experiment? Money? Fame? Fortune? For gods sake, I can’t even remember what the sun looks like, much less the life I left behind! Those people, those demons that put me in here must be dead, or else they would’ve let me out by now, right? But the blood of former occupants suggests they couldn’t care less.

Wait! I left the pills in the vent. Ah, the vent, the perfect place to hide things. I try to ease the vent out gently, but I can hear them coming closer, I need to just tear it off like an old band-aid I think as I grip the vent tightly. The sound of the vent tearing out is terribly loud and could be heard from miles away. Maybe the terrible sound will scare them off? No, I can hear them coming closer by the second. But now I have the pills! I can stave them off. Oh no! The lights have gone out. They’re about to reach me! I choke the pills down my throat. The effect is immediate, already this terrible fate is escaping me. The lights are turning back on and the monsters are weakened. I feel great. But I only have seconds before reality comes crashing back down on me. I need to run, I need to hide!

Already I can feel the effects wearing off. But I think I hid some more pills around here somewhere. I must’ve, I’m the best! Why else would they choose me? Not enough time! They're too close! They’re on me! I can feel their teeth sinking into my flesh!

A dank, sweaty lab, two scientists, Dr. Fitzgerald, a plump, stocky man, and Dr. Parker, a thinner, taller man, eat cheetos and watch through a screen, the picture of a man who has lost his mind. Subject P4C, he used to be normal. But then they got a hold of him. Twisted him, hooked him up to a machine and changed his mind. At first he resisted, but they gave him pills, and he stopped.

But that experiment is over now. He is free to lead his own life again. Yet all he does is sit in his white, gleaming room, with only a single, solitary camera in it. And play pac-man, always putting more money in, playing again, and again, and again.


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