A story by me
Posted: Fri Jan 02, 2009 11:20 am
By some miracle I don't think I've ever posted my most recent short story here. I can't figure out anywhere else to post this, so here goes!
Under the Thumb of Madness
Still alive, she thought, as she did every time she awoke only to find herself shackled to that chair.
The room was lit only by one oil lamp next to her, but she could see the way it reflected off the slimy mold on the stone walls. All was silent except for the sound of the girl’s breathing and the faint whisper of the lamp.
She didn’t try to struggle against the shackles; she would need all her strength later, when he arrived. She stretched with what little movement the cuffs and chains granted her arms and legs. Her right foot touched a bit of slime mold, which sent a shudder through her naked body. The shudder that overtook her when she heard the door beginning to open was different, but more agonizing; like a mental contortion. Her hand tightened over the small knife hidden in her fist. Perhaps tonight she would attain victory. Whenever she doubted her own escape, the knife reminded her that there was a chance.
A lightly armored masked man strode in with a pot of moist, foul-smelling gruel. Each of his footfalls ignited flaming pillars of hate in the girl’s heart. Stirring the gruel with a filthy ladle and humming, he came close. She hated the sound of his humming voice.
“Hungry, Boneca?” Boneca. She hated the name he gave her. It meant “doll.” Her real name was lost forever, if she ever had one.
A small, goblin-like man walked through the open door and came near, saluting.
“Lord Mallos!” he said, “The Empire approaches from the East. They will cross the bridge if we don’t–”
He was cut off by Mallos’ hand on his face. The hand squeezed, and the little man’s head exploded like a smashed fruit. The body slumped to the ground in a heap of bloody flesh, bone, and brains. A shadowy aura appeared over Mallos’ hand. The body, the gore, everything, was instantly transformed into a black dust and siphoned into the hand.
Mallos swiftly walked to the door, muttering about interruptions. He turned the great wheel that forced the door closed, bolting and barring it in several places. He paused.
“I’m upset now,” he said. “You’re going to have to make yourself extra fun today.” He chuckled a bit at this. The girl hated the way his chuckles were at just the right pitch to echo around the chamber. “Today I’ll break you. Your power was meant for me, you know.” His right hand began to open and close in a waving, pulsating motion. She hated this. Mallos spoke through gritted teeth: “The blessing of the gods was meant for me.”
He picked up the pot and stirred the gruel again, this time putting the ladle to her mouth. The smell was excruciating. It was probably drugged. The girl turned away from the tainted meal.
“Eat it, love,” said Mallos. “Don’t you want to grow up to be big and strong?” The girl struggled away from the ladle. Mallos began to mimic a steam locomotive with his voice as the ladle chased her mouth. She could feel the knife hidden in her hand. Now? No, she wouldn’t be able to reach…
“Okay, I’m done,” he said. He produced his left index finger, sticking it in his mouth. As he pulled it out, it glowed with an evil aura. He slowly put the finger into her ear, sending images of horror into her mind’s eye. A scream burst from her lungs and shook her. She felt the gruel being poured down her throat and reflexively swallowed. She began to gag and cough, but couldn’t expel the vile fluid.
“Can you feel it, Boneca?”
She could feel it.
“Can you feel it weakening your will?”
She could feel it leaching away at her…no, she couldn’t. It was just the gruel aamplifying his power of suggestion. She had to fight it. Had to….
“You will break for me today, my pet.”
Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and shook her head. Could not break. Not now. Not after so long. She gripped the knife so hard she almost cut into her own flesh.
She heard the clinking of armor falling to the ground. She opened her eyes to see that he had unclothed himself. He was still wearing the grotesque mask.
“You will break.”
Against her will, her legs snapped open. Tears were traveling down her face. She began to sob.
Mallos began to laugh. A cackling guffaw at order, morality, righteousness. They fell into the usual dance of despair. It was a dance of shattered innocence and tortured souls. It could very well become a dance of broken will.
The girl produced the knife. She let her hatred flow through the blade, slamming it again and again into Mallos’ back. He let out a grunt and slumped over.
The girl let out a cry of triumph and relief, sobbing heavily. It was all over now. Soon she would free herself and escape. She had an escape route mapped out in her head that she went through every time she was alone. It would be a simple thing.
Mallos’ hands tightened on the girl’s shoulders.
Horror, grief, rage, all coalesced and overcame her. She let out a cry of agony and struggled violently against the shackles.
Mallos lifted himself up to look down on her. His twisted grin was visible was visible under the mask. His muscles tightened and the knife shot out from his back like a projectile, carrying with it the girl’s entire life. Black mist sprayed from the wound before it quickly healed up.
The girl thought about giving up right then and there. But then, out of the darkness of her mind, a shaft of light appeared. This wasn’t the end of her story. As long as she could hold on to her sanity, there was hope. If she spent an eternity in this room, resisting until sweet death took her, she still would have won. Evil could take away all she held dear, but never would she allow it to crush her will. She closed her eyes in resolution.
“What’s wrong? Afraid to see what’s going to happen next?” His barely audible laugh was deafening in its horror. “No problem, I love the darkness. It hides our sins.” He brought his face close. “Sort of makes our day...doesn’t it?”
Mallos turned off the oil lamp. The girl’s cries went on, disappearing into the darkness.
Under the Thumb of Madness
Still alive, she thought, as she did every time she awoke only to find herself shackled to that chair.
The room was lit only by one oil lamp next to her, but she could see the way it reflected off the slimy mold on the stone walls. All was silent except for the sound of the girl’s breathing and the faint whisper of the lamp.
She didn’t try to struggle against the shackles; she would need all her strength later, when he arrived. She stretched with what little movement the cuffs and chains granted her arms and legs. Her right foot touched a bit of slime mold, which sent a shudder through her naked body. The shudder that overtook her when she heard the door beginning to open was different, but more agonizing; like a mental contortion. Her hand tightened over the small knife hidden in her fist. Perhaps tonight she would attain victory. Whenever she doubted her own escape, the knife reminded her that there was a chance.
A lightly armored masked man strode in with a pot of moist, foul-smelling gruel. Each of his footfalls ignited flaming pillars of hate in the girl’s heart. Stirring the gruel with a filthy ladle and humming, he came close. She hated the sound of his humming voice.
“Hungry, Boneca?” Boneca. She hated the name he gave her. It meant “doll.” Her real name was lost forever, if she ever had one.
A small, goblin-like man walked through the open door and came near, saluting.
“Lord Mallos!” he said, “The Empire approaches from the East. They will cross the bridge if we don’t–”
He was cut off by Mallos’ hand on his face. The hand squeezed, and the little man’s head exploded like a smashed fruit. The body slumped to the ground in a heap of bloody flesh, bone, and brains. A shadowy aura appeared over Mallos’ hand. The body, the gore, everything, was instantly transformed into a black dust and siphoned into the hand.
Mallos swiftly walked to the door, muttering about interruptions. He turned the great wheel that forced the door closed, bolting and barring it in several places. He paused.
“I’m upset now,” he said. “You’re going to have to make yourself extra fun today.” He chuckled a bit at this. The girl hated the way his chuckles were at just the right pitch to echo around the chamber. “Today I’ll break you. Your power was meant for me, you know.” His right hand began to open and close in a waving, pulsating motion. She hated this. Mallos spoke through gritted teeth: “The blessing of the gods was meant for me.”
He picked up the pot and stirred the gruel again, this time putting the ladle to her mouth. The smell was excruciating. It was probably drugged. The girl turned away from the tainted meal.
“Eat it, love,” said Mallos. “Don’t you want to grow up to be big and strong?” The girl struggled away from the ladle. Mallos began to mimic a steam locomotive with his voice as the ladle chased her mouth. She could feel the knife hidden in her hand. Now? No, she wouldn’t be able to reach…
“Okay, I’m done,” he said. He produced his left index finger, sticking it in his mouth. As he pulled it out, it glowed with an evil aura. He slowly put the finger into her ear, sending images of horror into her mind’s eye. A scream burst from her lungs and shook her. She felt the gruel being poured down her throat and reflexively swallowed. She began to gag and cough, but couldn’t expel the vile fluid.
“Can you feel it, Boneca?”
She could feel it.
“Can you feel it weakening your will?”
She could feel it leaching away at her…no, she couldn’t. It was just the gruel aamplifying his power of suggestion. She had to fight it. Had to….
“You will break for me today, my pet.”
Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and shook her head. Could not break. Not now. Not after so long. She gripped the knife so hard she almost cut into her own flesh.
She heard the clinking of armor falling to the ground. She opened her eyes to see that he had unclothed himself. He was still wearing the grotesque mask.
“You will break.”
Against her will, her legs snapped open. Tears were traveling down her face. She began to sob.
Mallos began to laugh. A cackling guffaw at order, morality, righteousness. They fell into the usual dance of despair. It was a dance of shattered innocence and tortured souls. It could very well become a dance of broken will.
The girl produced the knife. She let her hatred flow through the blade, slamming it again and again into Mallos’ back. He let out a grunt and slumped over.
The girl let out a cry of triumph and relief, sobbing heavily. It was all over now. Soon she would free herself and escape. She had an escape route mapped out in her head that she went through every time she was alone. It would be a simple thing.
Mallos’ hands tightened on the girl’s shoulders.
Horror, grief, rage, all coalesced and overcame her. She let out a cry of agony and struggled violently against the shackles.
Mallos lifted himself up to look down on her. His twisted grin was visible was visible under the mask. His muscles tightened and the knife shot out from his back like a projectile, carrying with it the girl’s entire life. Black mist sprayed from the wound before it quickly healed up.
The girl thought about giving up right then and there. But then, out of the darkness of her mind, a shaft of light appeared. This wasn’t the end of her story. As long as she could hold on to her sanity, there was hope. If she spent an eternity in this room, resisting until sweet death took her, she still would have won. Evil could take away all she held dear, but never would she allow it to crush her will. She closed her eyes in resolution.
“What’s wrong? Afraid to see what’s going to happen next?” His barely audible laugh was deafening in its horror. “No problem, I love the darkness. It hides our sins.” He brought his face close. “Sort of makes our day...doesn’t it?”
Mallos turned off the oil lamp. The girl’s cries went on, disappearing into the darkness.