Last Link to Life

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A girl finds herself in a scary place and she doesn't know how she got there or what it is. She witnesses horrific sights and a finds beautiful stranger that may or may not be simply a figment of her imagination.
It's based upon a dream I had that I expanded upon. It has to do with what's real and imaginary, or what a person sees in their dying thoughts.

Submitted: November 18, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 18, 2011




She became aware of what was happening around her slowly, as if awakening from a dream. The haze lifted from her consciousness in a way that left her unsure of whether the current events were real or just another fantasy. Dark circles glowing around their fringes danced behind her eyes, reinforcing the dull chemical ache in the back of her cranium. The girl rubbed the corners of her eyes, fully taking in the harrowing scene that lay before her, quite unsure of what her eyes beheld.

There was a musty, metallic smell buoyed upon the still, thick air in the room, pungent with despair and fear. It crept through her senses, clinging to her dry tongue. It was forceful and nauseating, yet moved about with stealth. It wasn’t at once easy to identify until it was fully upon and moving through you, not unlike the course of events around the girl. She lifted a heavy hand to her eyes once again, gazing across the room. It was dark. A single, naked bulb hung precariously above, brightly illuminating only what was less than three feet from its sight. Everything else was lightly veiled in stale, florescent blues so that you could only see so much of what was going on to create an extra layer of uncertainty and fear of the situation. There was a sound from across the room. The girl stiffened, hastening to quiet her ragged breathing and the unsteady hammering from her jittery heartbeats taking her body hostage, making her feel as if her heart had swelled the size of a watermelon, thick with pink, juicy flesh, ready to burst. 

About ten feet away a human form came into view. It was hard to tell it was a person at first with all the surrounding contraption, but with further investigation underneath the ropes and wires was indeed  a man. He was suspended in the air, hanging from his hands and legs, which were pulled taut in opposing directions, giving him the impression of doing a jumping jack. The ropes holding his hands and legs were attached to some sort of device with a crank, though the girl was unsure of what it would do. She felt sick. The man hanging had the same gaze as a cow just before it’s to be slaughtered. The whites of his eyes were bright and exposed on all sides, full of panic as well as a longing for everything to simply be over; all hope had long escaped, and the girl had never seen such a look in a living person’s eyes. The man’s clothes were tattered and stained with blood, and his wrists raw from the pinch of braided ropes. He didn’t struggle; he simply stared. Another man came into view at this point, walking slowly, confidently, with the graceful step of a cat who knows it will always land on its feet. His every move seemed to have been planned, calculated. He turned his face toward her; her breath caught in her throat and she felt as if her watermelon heart would explode at any moment. Luckily for her though, the tiny lightbulb didn’t emit enough of its warmth to cast an ample glow onto her. She noticed that his face was as beautiful as his movements, not random but planned, created somehow. He had dark hair that fell in smooth locks, framing his sharp face. His eyes were slanted and dark as well, and his mouth arranged not in a smile, but turning upward slightly at the edges, giving the chilling look of a harlequin or jester of some sort. He turned back to look the terrified man in the eyes, and made no noise. The hanging man let out a defeated whimper to which the man standing before him seemed to chuckle. It wasn’t a chuckle really though, but a slight ha, devoid of any emotion but derision. He stared at the victim for a few seconds longer before reaching into his mouth and grasping something. The girl wasn’t entirely sure of what was going on at that moment, but witnessed the victim scream in agony, giving a slight struggle in attempt to pull away, but then gave up and the sound of churning distress vanished as soon as it began. The man walked away slowly, his face out of the light, but the girl could see with horror that he was holding a tooth of the victim in his hand. The hanging man’s face dropped between his shoulders and blood poured from his mouth. The shocked girl noticed for a moment that he almost resembled a depiction of Jesus hanging from the cross. She shivered. 

The torturer walked back into view, standing next to the makeshift crank by the victim. The girl realized with dread as thick and heavy as stone what was going to happen. She attempted to cover her eyes but couldn’t stop ogling the abominable scene. The crank screeched as the man began to turn it ever so slowly, so deliberately. Tears welled in the girl’s eyes and it took everything she had to keep from screaming. The man’s limbs were gradually being pulled in opposite directions. He began to scream, shrilly, horrifically, screaming for the knowledge that this would be the last noise he would ever utter, the last tangible effect of being alive. The scream soon died and was replaced with the sound of ripping human flesh, and the dead thud of appendages falling to the ground. At this point the girl wasn’t looking, though she could hear a steady drip drip of blood hitting the cold cement. She peered through the shelter of her fingers to see the most horrible sight of her life. The man’s face dangled listlessly to the side, attached to the part of his body still somewhat intact on the right. His face was forever stiff with the expression of suffering, and his fingers were spread apart as if reaching for something, anything. The girl tried not to breathe, but her exhalations escaped sharply in quick rasps. She realized with horror that there was a line of people waiting to be dismembered, hanging just as the previous victim was. She couldn’t see their eyes in the dim light, but the expressions were all too clear in her mind. The killer was calm, standing still, surveying his creation. He was spattered in blood, and licked the red from his finger. At that moment, his eyes locked upon his next prey. He walked slowly toward the hanging victim with his steady, unshakable gait. The girl knew exactly what was coming next and covered her ears as tightly as possible when the tormented screams shattered the walls, entering another dimension and growing quiet once again. The silence was absolutely deafening. 

After a few moments of hateful silence, the girl stirred from her stone-like position. Terrified, and hardly knowing what she was doing, she moved forward, as if being pulled by a string. She could hear the soft patting of her shoes hitting the cold floor mixed with the steady dripping of blood. She walked until she was only a few feet away from the killer. She could tell that he sensed her presence, but he didn’t look at her. He was fiddling with something in front of him on a tray. Her breathing slowed slightly, calming a bit for a reason that she was unsure of. Slowly, surely, he turned around. His face was nightmarishly beautiful and corrupt. She stood still. She had never seen a person like this; he was evil, simply evil. He didn’t move. He was motionless, but his gaze was commanding. He knew he always got what he wanted, and his harlequin lips turned slightly askew on the right, giving the impression of a lopsided smile, but it wasn’t a smile. It was cold, and his eyes looked straight through her. He folded his arms and looked down at her. She walked toward him, her quiet pattering footsteps breaking the silence. They stood eye to eye for a few moments before she moved toward him closer. Her hand grazed his arm falteringly, barely touching his skin. He didn’t move. She looked up at him, staring into his marble eyes for answers. She reached up to his face and he caught her hand swiftly. She gasped as her other arm lie limp by her side. Her torso was touching his so that she could feel his breathing. It was slight, but noticeable with careful inspection. She could smell the tanginess of human blood covering his shirt, barely unbuttoned at the top, revealing smooth, well-planned skin. It was as if every part of him was perfect, perfect and horrible. She didn’t ask why she was there, somehow she knew. She leaned so that all her weight was pressing against him and her face was less than an inch from his. His breath was warm on her face, but he didn’t shift his position once. She kissed his mouth, and he didn’t kiss back. She started to move away, but he held her firmly in his grasp. She opened her eyes. He looked down at her face, almost inquisitively, but his certainty hadn’t diminished. Before she knew what was happening his hand was grasping the small of her back. Everything he did had a purpose. She understood that she couldn’t walk away now. He kissed her closed eyelids softly, tenderly. He nuzzled beneath her chin, kissing the crevice between her clavicle and neck, so slightly. She shivered. He pulled her closer, catching her in the mouth with a kiss that was violent, almost passionate. He licked a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth and smiled at her with that smile of his, and whispered in her ear. 

“How do you want to die?”

“I’ll do it myself” She said. 

© Copyright 2018 xxandromeda. All rights reserved.

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