ZeBliss
02-12-2012, 04:12 PM
Thomas looked at the body from his Big Wheel tricycle. It was a girl’s body,
Thomas thought, or at least it used to be. The flesh was nearly rotted away
and the bones were bent and snapped in a way meant to make disposing of it
in the small dark hole easier. The stench of it was sickening. The only way
Thomas could even tell the body was human was the long black hair matted
around the skull. Thomas looked at his glow-in-the-dark Spiderman watch, it
was 8pm, an hour after Thomas’s curfew. He looked down at the body again,
and then turned around to face the man pointing the gun at him.
Thomas had been standing there staring at the body for some time
before he heard the man walk up behind him, and after that it took another
five minutes for Thomas to find the courage to turn around and look. It was
dark and Thomas could barely make out the man’s face. Of what he could
see, the most distinguishing feature was the man’s eyes. They were deep set
in his head and seemed almost shriveled from age, the whites of his eyes were
massive and bright compared to his small almost black pupils. It scared Thomas.
“Mister are you the boogieman?” asked a frightened Thomas. The man didn’t
respond for what seemed like forever to Thomas, until he finally said “Up.”.
After another glance at the gun, Thomas obeyed. As he stood up Thomas
slipped, and as he slipped his leg knocked into the Big Wheel and it tumbled
down the hole. It landed on top of the body and made a nauseating crunch as
the brittle bones snapped and released a new wave of its pungent odor. The
sound of snapping bone, the smell of rotting flesh, and the intense feeling of
fear was too much for 9 year old Thomas to handle. He threw up violently
onto the man’s shoes and fainted.
Thomas woke up cold with his hands bound behind his back. It was too
dark to see where he was, but by feeling around with his fingertips Thomas
realized he was in a concrete room, most likely a basement. All of a sudden
what happened the night before came back to Thomas and he started to
scream.
Over time Thomas’s screams became quieter and less piercing as his
voice grew weaker, and eventually he could do no more than let out a small
squeak. Thomas was alone in the cold damp dungeon, and as his hysteria
shrunk his fear started to grow. His breath quickened and each breath
released a small cloud of steam into the air. Thomas’s hands were tied behind
his back, but his legs were free and with his eyes now slightly used to the
dark he decided to take a look around. Thomas stood up, took a tentative
step forward, then tripped and saw stars as he hit his head on the hard floor.
The taste of blood woke Thomas up from his injury induced slumber.
“Where am I?” thought Thomas, “What happened?” Thomas tried to get up
but every time he moved his head started to throb, eventually he just gave
up and remained still. As hard as he tried, Thomas could not remember where
he was or how he got there. He knew he must have hit his head as he could
feel the blood start to dry and crack on his face, but other than that he had
no idea.
“Hello!” Thomas yelled, “I have to pee!” there was no response, and Thomas
started to get scared. “I could really die down here….” he said to no one in a
small voice. Twenty minutes later Thomas couldn’t hold it in for any longer.
Thomas slowly started to get to his feet, but as he got up on one knee his
foot slipped on the pool of blood below him and he tumbled back down to the
floor. He screamed silently as the pain in his head re-doubled from the fall.
Thomas felt a trickle of warm liquid running down his leg and realized he had
lost control as he hit the floor. Lying in a puddle of his own piss and blood
Thomas began to cry.
Sometime later a light flooded into the room, and without use of his hands
Thomas was helpless to shield himself from the harsh glow. As the light-spots
and the pain faded away the silhouette of a tall man slowly came into view.
“Help me…” said Thomas. The man gave Thomas a quizzical look.
“I’m not going to help you”
“Why not?” responded Thomas in a nervous tone.
“You know why.” Thomas made eye contact with the man
standing above him and was startled by the almost dead blackness of his
pupils. The sight gave Thomas the chills, and as he felt the goosebumps rise
on his arms and the hair of the back of his neck stand he realized he was
terrified.
“Pleeeeease!!!”, begged Thomas desperately. The man’s only response was
pull a gun of his coat pocket and aim it at Thomas. As the light hit the barrel
of the gun it gleamed in Thomas’s eyes, and all of a sudden he remembered where had seen the man before.
“Please mister don’t hurt me I’m only nine years old”
The man raised the gun and aimed it at Thomas. Thomas saw a flash.
Thomas thought, or at least it used to be. The flesh was nearly rotted away
and the bones were bent and snapped in a way meant to make disposing of it
in the small dark hole easier. The stench of it was sickening. The only way
Thomas could even tell the body was human was the long black hair matted
around the skull. Thomas looked at his glow-in-the-dark Spiderman watch, it
was 8pm, an hour after Thomas’s curfew. He looked down at the body again,
and then turned around to face the man pointing the gun at him.
Thomas had been standing there staring at the body for some time
before he heard the man walk up behind him, and after that it took another
five minutes for Thomas to find the courage to turn around and look. It was
dark and Thomas could barely make out the man’s face. Of what he could
see, the most distinguishing feature was the man’s eyes. They were deep set
in his head and seemed almost shriveled from age, the whites of his eyes were
massive and bright compared to his small almost black pupils. It scared Thomas.
“Mister are you the boogieman?” asked a frightened Thomas. The man didn’t
respond for what seemed like forever to Thomas, until he finally said “Up.”.
After another glance at the gun, Thomas obeyed. As he stood up Thomas
slipped, and as he slipped his leg knocked into the Big Wheel and it tumbled
down the hole. It landed on top of the body and made a nauseating crunch as
the brittle bones snapped and released a new wave of its pungent odor. The
sound of snapping bone, the smell of rotting flesh, and the intense feeling of
fear was too much for 9 year old Thomas to handle. He threw up violently
onto the man’s shoes and fainted.
Thomas woke up cold with his hands bound behind his back. It was too
dark to see where he was, but by feeling around with his fingertips Thomas
realized he was in a concrete room, most likely a basement. All of a sudden
what happened the night before came back to Thomas and he started to
scream.
Over time Thomas’s screams became quieter and less piercing as his
voice grew weaker, and eventually he could do no more than let out a small
squeak. Thomas was alone in the cold damp dungeon, and as his hysteria
shrunk his fear started to grow. His breath quickened and each breath
released a small cloud of steam into the air. Thomas’s hands were tied behind
his back, but his legs were free and with his eyes now slightly used to the
dark he decided to take a look around. Thomas stood up, took a tentative
step forward, then tripped and saw stars as he hit his head on the hard floor.
The taste of blood woke Thomas up from his injury induced slumber.
“Where am I?” thought Thomas, “What happened?” Thomas tried to get up
but every time he moved his head started to throb, eventually he just gave
up and remained still. As hard as he tried, Thomas could not remember where
he was or how he got there. He knew he must have hit his head as he could
feel the blood start to dry and crack on his face, but other than that he had
no idea.
“Hello!” Thomas yelled, “I have to pee!” there was no response, and Thomas
started to get scared. “I could really die down here….” he said to no one in a
small voice. Twenty minutes later Thomas couldn’t hold it in for any longer.
Thomas slowly started to get to his feet, but as he got up on one knee his
foot slipped on the pool of blood below him and he tumbled back down to the
floor. He screamed silently as the pain in his head re-doubled from the fall.
Thomas felt a trickle of warm liquid running down his leg and realized he had
lost control as he hit the floor. Lying in a puddle of his own piss and blood
Thomas began to cry.
Sometime later a light flooded into the room, and without use of his hands
Thomas was helpless to shield himself from the harsh glow. As the light-spots
and the pain faded away the silhouette of a tall man slowly came into view.
“Help me…” said Thomas. The man gave Thomas a quizzical look.
“I’m not going to help you”
“Why not?” responded Thomas in a nervous tone.
“You know why.” Thomas made eye contact with the man
standing above him and was startled by the almost dead blackness of his
pupils. The sight gave Thomas the chills, and as he felt the goosebumps rise
on his arms and the hair of the back of his neck stand he realized he was
terrified.
“Pleeeeease!!!”, begged Thomas desperately. The man’s only response was
pull a gun of his coat pocket and aim it at Thomas. As the light hit the barrel
of the gun it gleamed in Thomas’s eyes, and all of a sudden he remembered where had seen the man before.
“Please mister don’t hurt me I’m only nine years old”
The man raised the gun and aimed it at Thomas. Thomas saw a flash.