Monday, February 3, 2014

Comfort Lost

The light, I can see it. A hand. Reaching to me. It glows with purity. I reach to grab my salvation, but the crimson stained meat hooks pull me back. I tug harder on the captive devices, as they rip my flesh.

Still the hand reaches for me to grasp. I...can't....reach! Grabbing at the looks, I rip them out. Blood spills to the floor, I roar to cover my pain. Only a few left now, two exactly piercing the Achilles tendon.

I grip each one...motivated by only my eventual salvation, I painfully rip them out, dark red spray painting the dirty wall of my prison. Legs give way and  crumble. I hit the floor with a grunt and a curse. I look up to reach.

It's gone. The gone?!

Cursing the name of every diety, I pound my fists into to cold rock floor. Bones in my hands crack, the pain is nothing new. What or who was going to save me? Why did they leave me?! Did they not see I was freeing myself so I could reach them?

Bloody, cold, and alone, I slump against the walls of my chamber. Cursed again by hope. Hope....who knew it could be such a powerful weapon, twisted in darkness.

As I break out of my hypnotic trance, I see something else....a second hand descending. Something is different that the first, but I have to take it. Dragging my bloody stumps behind me, I crawl towards the hand. This one I can reach!

I grab a hold of the hand. It slowly hoists me up to my salvation. That...that's when I notice the difference. This hand is scabbed, vermilion colored, bones exposed from rotten flesh.

The hand turns into claws that crush mine. I try to let go, but I cannot free my hand. I look upward, damning this 'savior,' to see four tentacles, each one like a spear, rush through me. I cough, blood sputters. I see, through intense pain, that the spear-like tentacles piercing my body, are merely anchors meant to hold me in imprison me to were I once was.

The hand drops me. A resounding thud as I collapse. I can't stand from the pain and the destroyed muscle tissue. I see the hooks coming now to finish the job. They rip into the flesh. Holding me here.

Darkness envelopes this bloody shell of a man. He is alone once again. Sobbing, he sees another hand, much like the first.

He just stares at it, with tears in his eyes, until it disappears

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Please keep it professional, because I don't know what he might do.