His footsteps cause the floorboards to sag and groan, the creaking growing louder as the approaches. I scramble for the lightswitch before the man can get any closer. I flick on the light and spin around only to see an ominous shadow shoving an odd-smelling cloth into my face. As I take another breath, grogginess overwhelms my senses and my vision blurs. I lose control of my body and, finally, my mind goes blank, slipping into oblivion. When I regain my consciousness, I find myself tied to a chair, rope ensnaring my ankles and zip ties cutting into my wrists. “Good morning, sunshine,” my captor’s gravelly voice growls from somewhere in the room I can’t quite point out. “Where am I? Who are you? Why am I here?” I utter all in one breath.
…show more content…
“You killed Elizabeth!? Why?” “No, no, of course not. The real Lonely One did all that. He’s probably long gone by now. But he is my inspiration--” Something snaps inside of me. I start screaming, at him, at God, at anyone or anything that could hear me. My screams are met with his insane laughter, just as loud and ten times more maniacal. I try rocking back and forth in my chair, but it is bolted to the cold, damp basement floor. “Shut up!” a voice suddenly shouts, much more guttural than that of the druggist. I hear a shrill, inhuman scream and a loud thump. Out of shock, I cease screaming. A tall, slim man with a blood-spattered face waltzes out from the shadows with a scythe and a crazy grin, a trail of blood licking his heels. “Thank you,” he snarls, caressing my face with the blade of his scythe with just enough pressure to produce a little blood. “Now I couldn’t have some phony impersonating me while I was gone, could I? Especially if he was planning on killing my next victim, Lavinia. Unfortunately, I have to kill you sooner than I would have liked. I always like to spend a little more time getting to know my prey before I dump them in the ravine, but these are special …show more content…
“Well, that’s no fun,” he mutters as he struts over to a table to grab the cloth the druggist used to knock me out before. I brace myself for what I know is going to happen. He holds the cloth to my face. I take a deep breath and once again sink into the darkness. A bright light burns through my eyelids as I regain my senses. I feel the dewy grass tickle my arms and dampen my clothes. Birds chirp and water trickles over rocks. Water? I must be near the creek in the ravine, but how am I not dead? I scramble to my feet, afraid to open my eyes, and trip over something soft yet firm. I fall to the ground and force my eyes open. The sight makes me want to vomit. I gag, tears streaming from my eyes like the whitewater rivers of Colorado. There, laying beside my imprint in the grass, were Francine and Helen, beaten and bloodied almost past recognition. My peripheral vision catches sight of movement. A man standing beside a tree, staring straight at me as if teasing me. I can’t handle it anymore. The initial shock clears my system, and I am able to let out a rageful, horrified, earsplitting, uncontrollable wail until the world goes black once again as I fall into the obsidian abyss of unconsciousness once
“You killed Elizabeth!? Why?” “No, no, of course not. The real Lonely One did all that. He’s probably long gone by now. But he is my inspiration--” Something snaps inside of me. I start screaming, at him, at God, at anyone or anything that could hear me. My screams are met with his insane laughter, just as loud and ten times more maniacal. I try rocking back and forth in my chair, but it is bolted to the cold, damp basement floor. “Shut up!” a voice suddenly shouts, much more guttural than that of the druggist. I hear a shrill, inhuman scream and a loud thump. Out of shock, I cease screaming. A tall, slim man with a blood-spattered face waltzes out from the shadows with a scythe and a crazy grin, a trail of blood licking his heels. “Thank you,” he snarls, caressing my face with the blade of his scythe with just enough pressure to produce a little blood. “Now I couldn’t have some phony impersonating me while I was gone, could I? Especially if he was planning on killing my next victim, Lavinia. Unfortunately, I have to kill you sooner than I would have liked. I always like to spend a little more time getting to know my prey before I dump them in the ravine, but these are special …show more content…
“Well, that’s no fun,” he mutters as he struts over to a table to grab the cloth the druggist used to knock me out before. I brace myself for what I know is going to happen. He holds the cloth to my face. I take a deep breath and once again sink into the darkness. A bright light burns through my eyelids as I regain my senses. I feel the dewy grass tickle my arms and dampen my clothes. Birds chirp and water trickles over rocks. Water? I must be near the creek in the ravine, but how am I not dead? I scramble to my feet, afraid to open my eyes, and trip over something soft yet firm. I fall to the ground and force my eyes open. The sight makes me want to vomit. I gag, tears streaming from my eyes like the whitewater rivers of Colorado. There, laying beside my imprint in the grass, were Francine and Helen, beaten and bloodied almost past recognition. My peripheral vision catches sight of movement. A man standing beside a tree, staring straight at me as if teasing me. I can’t handle it anymore. The initial shock clears my system, and I am able to let out a rageful, horrified, earsplitting, uncontrollable wail until the world goes black once again as I fall into the obsidian abyss of unconsciousness once