»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
Little Red Shoe
| Passions in Prose |
|
Little Red Shoe |
|
|
jfreak Member
since 1999-06-17
Posts 306Yuma, AZ, USA 
|
“How dark can the dark be?” That was the question running through his mind as he clamored around in the darkness, so black, it was sticky. He could almost taste it. It took every ounce of his energy to keep the terror that was building in his guts from overwhelming him. He wanted to panic. To just run! To find light. To find air. That darkness was almost suffocating him. His training though, helped him keep his composure. Plus, the fact of his being there. He tried to remember, why exactly, was he there. It wasn’t for money, he had plenty of money to sustain him for several lifetimes. It wasn’t for adventure. He was no adrenaline junkie like those kids he saw on ESPN on a regular basis doing base jumps, cliff diving, or some other kind of dare devil stunt. Then a little smirk crossed his face as the thoughts ran through his mind. Oh how he wished he was doing one of those stupid stunts, instead of stumbling through that God forsaken darkness. Then the thought ran across his mind once more. “Why am I here again?” Then he remembered seeing the picture of that little girl. Sweet face, curly blond locks flowing over her shoulders, and that smile. A smile that would melt even Lucifer’s heart. Three weeks before, she had been abducted off the street, right out of her mother’s arms. Three men, dressed in black, wearing what seemed to be black masks but, according to the mother, had no facial features whatsoever. “They had no faces. Where a face should have been was just...nothing,” said the mother. He took it as a mother’s hysteria over losing her child. The little girl’s name was Melissa. She was nine years old. An only child and the mother’s pride and joy. She played soccer and according to the mother, everyone that came into contact with her, loved Melissa. She was just a pure joy. At least that is what he had heard everyone say. He wouldn’t know. Remembering the first time he saw the photo, he recalled the first thought that went through his head. “Who could harm such an adorable little girl?” Out of the darkness came a sudden rush of noise. He wasn’t alone. The terror that was clawing at him had crawled its way into his lungs. He wanted to scream, to flee. Yet, fear and his discipline caused him to freeze. Silence...No other sound. He began to doubt that he had heard anything at all. “What is going on with me?” he thought. He had been through many a hair raising situations. Yet, none had ever caused him to react that way. He had never run from anything in his life. Never wanted to run from anything. This whole experience, from the very beginning, caused every fiber in his being to scream the same thing...RUN! He didn’t dare take that first step to run though, because if he took that step, instincts to survive would take over and he would be gone to never return. Plus he didn’t know his left from his right, nor his front from his back anymore, due to that terrible darkness. “This blasted darkness!” he thought. He was so turned around, he couldn’t even remember how he got to where he was. Didn’t even know the last time he had seen light. To him it seemed like centuries ago down there. He reached to his side and there it was. His comfort, his security, a symbol of what he had become. There it was, his trusty Kabar. That weapon had protected him in a many different hand to hand combat situations. Many a men had died with that blade in his hand. He unbuttoned the pouch holding his weapon of choice snug against his outer thigh. He slowly slipped it from its’ compartment and tightly gripped the handle. His fears began to slowly subside. “There is no way I’m going to die without taking someone with me.” He thought. One may wonder why in the world the only weapon our mystery man had in such a dangerous encounter, would be a Kabar, a knife. Why not a silenced Beretta, or a silenced MP-5, or even a simple M-16? Well our mystery man had thought about equipping himself with some king of hardware. When he arrived at the mouth of the cave, he realized that a heap of metal, such as any type of firearm, would make such a racket, which would then be amplified by the echo of the cave as he traveled deeper into the belly of the earth. He decided to trust his training in Jujitsu and Aikido and of course his trusty Kabar. He felt he would need to be as stealthy as possible and any light excessive noise would give away his position, which he desperately coveted. An ear shattering shriek, or that’s at least what he assumed he had a heard, a shriek. It pierced the darkness leaving ripples all around him. He felt himself getting queasy. The terror was back up in his lungs again. “What is going on with me? This isn’t me!” He kept thinking. “Oh dear God, what have I gotten myself into?” He didn’t dare breath, let alone move. Fear, no terror, had him in its grip and wasn’t about to let go. He stood silent, pressed back up against the wall, kabar clenched in fist. All nerves on end. He wanted to reach for the flare at his side. Wanted to illuminate the whole area so he could see what it was he was going up against. Yet, he coveted his secret position too much. Then the thought hit him. “What if my position isn’t so secretive? What if they have NVG’s or some kind of infrared device? I’m a dead man for sure.” His heart was racing ninety miles a minute. His breathing was rapidly increasing; his chest was beginning to tighten. Terror was seeping out of every single pore in his skin. He was saturated with it. He began to panic. “No that can’t be! Are the walls moving?” He whispered to himself. He jumped away from the wall and collided into something humanlike. At least that is what he thought. Then there was that shriek again! It was a cross between a steam whistle and a pig’s squeal. Yet, it also had a deep undertone to it that made it that much eerier. The shriek was so loud, our mystery man’s eardrums burst. He let out a scream, one from pain, but also from the sheer terror that finally had won it’s victory over him and was free to explode forth without recourse. He brought the kabar up and began slashing and stabbing at whatever it was that was in front of him. He felt every blow he inflicted upon this...thing, vibrate through his kabar. He began to kick, knee, and elbow, everything that had come natural to him from training, to destroy his adversary. Every direction he swung in or stabbed in he made contact. He knew the smell of blood, a distinct smell. Kind of sweet but also one that could turn your stomach. He began to smell it everywhere. He also felt some kind of thick liquid oozing down his fists, over his wrists, and splattering upon his face. With every blow, he felt his clothes being drenched in the substance. With every blow, that unmerciful shrieking grew louder. He shouldn’t have been able to hear anything, but that shrieking was incessant. Then it just stopped. Nothing moved. All was silent. He quickly jumped to one of the walls. He didn’t know which one. He just knew it was stone and that there was nothing behind him. So if there were any other...whatever out there, they would at least be in front of him. He then reached for the flare that was in his cargo pocket. He struck it and was nearly blinded by the sudden rush of light into the dark cavernous pit he was standing in. Once his eyes adjusted, he looked down at his hands. He was covered in what seemed like blood. It was all over him. He looked as if he had just performed some ritual sacrifice. The one thing that puzzled him though was the smell. It had had that sweet smell of human blood but it was beginning to turn to a putrid, gagging, unbearable odor. “Sulfuric,” he thought. “Smells like sulfur?” he said, puzzled. The stench began to suffocate him. He began to gag. He couldn’t control his body at all any longer. He fell to his knees and began to vomit forcefully. As the vomiting began to subside, he felt as if a thousand eyes were on him. He slowly looked up and saw the bottom of a long black cloak, right in front of him. He began to raise back to his feet and in doing so he raised the flare slowly up the torso of this...this...being. He also noticed more shadows on the walls all around this one in front of him. He began to move the flare in all directions and saw many more black cloaks. All still. All silent. They looked at him and he at they. He noticed that he could see none of their faces. He slowly brought the flare up towards the face of whatever was right in front of him. The being in the cloak didn’t flinch. The heat didn’t bother him. He stood as if he were...dead, like stone. Our mystery man brought the flare closer and closer, still no movement. Yet, as he got closer to the cloak, his eyes began to grow large and his hands and knees began to tremble. Slowly the flare’s light died out. All our mystery man saw in front of him were what seemed to be a thousand red glowing eyes just piercing his very torso. He tried to scream, but nothing would come out. Silence! He stood petrified. He couldn’t move. He suddenly felt, what he thought was a hand, grab his shoulder from behind. He pissed his pants. The hand whipped him around and he was standing in front of even more of those red glowing eyes. “This can’t be,” he thought. “My back was against a wall. There was a wall there! There was!” Then the hand felt more like a talon, as it began to dig into his flesh. The pain broke him out of his lethargic state of terror. He swung back into action as his sense of survival took over. He began to kick, stab, slash, and punch, whatever he could do in all directions. Yet, those eyes seemed to grow in number and in intensity. He suddenly felt all life draining from him. It was like a movie in slow motion. The eyes, the blows upon his body, the talons seeming to rip his flesh apart, that putrid sulfuric smelling “blood”, then darkness. He opened his eyes. The light pained him. He had to flicker his eyelids several times to get his eyes adjusted to the light. His body screamed out in agony as he tried to sit up. His right shoulder was throbbing nor would his arm move. He was severely weak. He had more strength when he was taken out of that POW camp after three months of roaches and urine contaminated water for a diet. “Where am I?” he groaned. He began to look at his arms. Everything was blurry because he had something in his eyes. He didn’t know that he had blood pouring into his eyes from a wound on his head. He tried to wipe his eyes, which made his vision a little better, then looked at his arms. He was covered in a dry sticky substance. “Blood,” he whispered. “Oh God it wasn’t a dream.” He leaned over to try to get up. Using his forehead as a brace against the tree he laid beside. Upon doing this an intense pain shot through every nerve in his body. He ran his hand gingerly across his forehead. He felt lacerations in some kind of pattern. What pattern, he couldn’t tell. He then slowly touched his right cheek. Same pain. He yelped out in agony. Same kind of lacerations. Through his blurred vision, he was able to make out two figures off in the distance walking his way. Thoughts began running through his head and the terror began to take hold of him again. He began to ramble, “Oh God they are coming for me! They had no faces. They had no faces! They are surely going to kill me. They had no faces. No FACES!” He tried to crawl, but his legs wouldn’t move. He looked down at them. They were all weird looking to him. Contorted in positions they should never have been in. The figures were getting closer. “Where’s my knife? Where’s my knife?” he said, as began looking around furiously in all directions. “Gone!” he said disgustingly. He then could no longer control his emotions. Like a little child, he began to weep and then moan. He then lost total control and began screaming, “Please don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me! Oh God save me!” as he dropped into almost a whisper, “please save me.” The figures were then upon him. With the already present blood and his added tears, his vision was none existent. He could tell someone was there, though. He calmed a bit, then spoke softly. “Do it quickly please.” That was all he said and then he just waited for the final blow to come. Chin jutted out, jaw locked into place, he would face death with honor. Not the fear he had shown before. If his time had come he would accept it and face it with dignity. Then, one figure knelt down beside him. He suddenly smelled the sweet scent of a woman’s perfume. Then a soft touch on the back of his neck, which startled him and made him jump slightly. Which caused a searing pain to course through every nerve in his body. He let out a moan. The hand began lightly and gently dabbing a lacey handkerchief over his eyes and bottom forehead. He slowly began to regain his eyesight. He saw the figure in front of him clearly then and she nearly took his breath away. A blonde hair, brown eyed, mid twenties, attractive young female knelt there treating his wounds. She asked him something but he couldn’t make out what she had said. She said something again and again he just looked at her. He whispered, “You must be an angel.” “Fred, hurry, go call an ambulance now! STAT!” the blonde cried out. “Sir what happened? Sir can you tell me what happened?” “Amber, look at his ears. They are bleeding. “ “Fred go get my cell phone and call an ambulance. HURRY!” “Yeah, yeah I’m gone,” and off Fred went running back up the trail he and Amber had parked by and decided to go for a little afternoon hike on. He reached the car and immediately placed the call to 911. He turned to run back to Amber and the stranger when he remembered the first aid kit in his trunk and the extra bottle of water they had brought with them. So he ran back to his car, grabbed those items, and then proceeded back to where the other two were. As he got back to them, Amber brought his attention to the mystery man’s face. “Fred...look at his face. My God, someone wrote some kind of message on his face. Give me that water.” Amber jerked it out Fred’s hand before he had the chance to give it to her. She began to slowly pour the water over the mystery man’s facial wounds, washing all the blood away. “What are you doing?” asked Fred. “I am cleaning his wounds, plus I want to see what they wrote. Maybe it will help us figure out why this guy is in such bad shape.” The mystery man was in a total state of shock, so he felt no pain when the water poured into his wounds. The mystery man began to moan something, but neither Amber nor Fred noticed. They were completely entranced with his face. She took some gauze from the first aid kit and began to wipe away the blood. Fred spoke first, “Stop Looking?” Amber interjected, “Stop Looking, man this man must’ve been onto something huge, like a mob boss or some government conspiracy or something.” They stood there silent. Wondering what in the world had happened to this mystery man and what had he uncovered. That’s when they heard his moaning. It had become increasingly louder and clearer. “What’s he saying?” asked Fred. “Shhh, listen!” scolded Amber. “No faces,” moaned mystery man. “No faces?” Amber said as she looked back at Fred. “Well one things for sure. He doesn’t have much of a face left,” Fred chuckled. Amber back slapped him for that remark. Then she noticed something else. Mystery man’s right hand, his useless one, was clutching something. She pried it open and in it lay a little red shoe. “Looks like a little girl’s shoe,” gasped Amber. “This guy must be some kind of petaphile, looking for little girls, or boys, and some daddy found him trying to molest his child and taught our mystery man here a lesson,” quirked Fred. “Shut up,” screamed Amber, as she threw the shoe at him. The shoe caught the eye of the mystery man, which caused him to fall silent. He reached out for the shoe with his good arm. Amber got up, ran over, got the shoe, and proceeded to bring it to him. He studied it thoroughly, set it down, and began to weep. Sirens were then heard in the distance, still a little ways off. “They had no faces,” he continued. “No faces, no faces at all, just those eyes. Those red eyes of hate.” “No faces? Red eyes?” Amber thought. Fred just turned and ran to the road to make sure the ambulance didn’t pass them by. Mystery man was still laying there crying, “No faces, no faces, no faces.............” [This message has been edited by jfreak (edited 06-08-2000).] |
||
| © Copyright 2000 jfreak - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Grrrrr....finish the story!!! Ok, you hooked me..now finish it! (sorry don't mean to be so demanding!  )There were a few grammatical errors..and I wish you had given your character a name..but other than that, it was an intense, scary read. Good job!!!! |
||
|
Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
I have to agree with PdV, I want to read the rest of this! This definetly was intense, I couldn't manage to peel my eyes away. Now I need to know about these faceless ones... Great read! Abrahm Simons "...Watching fate as it flows down the path we have chose" - Trent Reznor, "We're in this Together" |
||
|
jfreak Member
since 1999-06-17
Posts 306Yuma, AZ, USA |
See the beauty of this is that I was going for the "Blaire Witch" theme here. You never know...You know? I am not sure that there is an ending or if there is more to these faceless beings. Then again there may be more you will just have to wait and see. As of right now I am just taking a break. It took a lot out of me to write that one. Give me time. You might see more to this story. No promises though. I am glad you liked it. Thanks for your comments. brandon |
||
|
Munda Member Elite
since 1999-10-08
Posts 3544The Hague, The Netherlands |
A story I most certainly would like to see continue. I enjoyed reading this very much. One question though: for what reason did he enter the cave, the darkness ?? LOL Of course to find the girl, but I mean, what clues made him believe she could be there ? |
||
|
X Angel Senior Member
since 1999-11-07
Posts 1521Oregon |
I liked the whole idea of this story....but it was *missing* something sorta...like a beginning for the reader...it felt as tho we were just dumped in the cave...but IF that is your intent ok  . A few typos (<---used to be a proofreader), and I WAANNNA READ THE REST OF IT. But other than that great job! I like it!~X~ "Our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything." --William Shakespeare |
||
|
poetFemmeFatale Member Elite
since 1999-07-25
Posts 2646Arkansas |
So who did the guy slice and dice?? Please tell me it wasn't the little girl! Argh! You definately had me on the edge of my seat with this one...You're very good with suspense and the whole adrenaline thing! My own BP was up with the characters! ROFL Sheesh, I need some uh....caffeine now or something! LOL I would like to see the rest of this too, if ever you decide to "wrap it up"....I don't know. In a way, I liked the whole "Blaire Witch" feel that you used...definately *fresh*...and instead of worrying about a storyline, I just simply enjoyed the *rush* of the moment! Bravo! |
||
|
jfreak Member
since 1999-06-17
Posts 306Yuma, AZ, USA |
Well for all you proofreaders, it took me over three days to type this thing out b/c of things coming up and such. I had to get off the computer and do work and everything. So after I read through this thing after posting I saw all the "typos". So forgive me. I am really enjoying the replies I am getting for this one. Thank all of you. I am still not sure if I want to continue on with this or not. To be honest, I am kind of afraid of going forward b/c I am not sure I could do this story justice by moving on in it. I am scared that you guys would be totally disappointed after the rush all of you have felt with this one. So just please be patient. If I don't feel it is right I won't move forward until I know I can do this post justice or even better it. I have a few ideas but... Jfreak |
||
|
WhtDove Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-22
Posts 9245Illinois |
WOW! I didn't know you could write like this! I was sucked in and on the gripping edge the entire time. Very intense story! I loved it! Write those ideas down, ponder on them a while. You've written a fantastic piece of work. I hope it wasn't the little girl either  |
||
|
Nan
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-20
Posts 21191Cape Cod Massachusetts USA |
Hey.... I'm here already....  You've definitely put a lot of work into this piece - no question about it... and like it or not, it's just a chapter of a larger work in progress...hehe.. the question is - "When does he get back in gear again?" You've a great knack for building suspense, and you can create quite an intricate work around this piece... um.... I'm with the other guys.. This is a wonderful story that definitely needs a chaser... It's your own fault.. If you weren't such a good writer, we wouldn't all be begging for more... |
||
|
jfreak Member
since 1999-06-17
Posts 306Yuma, AZ, USA |
Just putting this to the top so no one has to go searching for it. Jfreak |
||
|
Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
I'd have to say that you've done an excellent job with the direction of this piece. You've portrayed the frantic emotions of your character (I think it lends verisimilitude to the feeling by not naming him by the way) with a smoothness I rarely see these days. I think that as a general rule, the imagery used here is beyond expectations. However, I might suggest to tone it down a little on the "blood" imagery. It's certainly a main focus considering the situation and resultant effects, but I think you're "describing" it, its feel, smell etc., a bit too much. Perhaps cut a little here and there to allow the reader to form their own feelings about it after you've "led" them in that direction. Every time I started to feel aversive to the thought of the blood on him, you'd "point" it out again, forcing me to feel it your way. And aside from the grammatical errors (good job on your paragraphing too, by the way,) I think this has definite promise. Kudos. Christopher |
||
|
WhtDove Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-22
Posts 9245Illinois |
Had to read this one again before I started on the other one. It's been a while and I had forgotten what it was all about. Just as intense as the first time. I'm moving on to the next one |
||
|
jfreak Member
since 1999-06-17
Posts 306Yuma, AZ, USA |
Chris, Thank you so much for the critique. I think too many people are afraid of hurting feelings so they don't give in depth critiques. I totally appreciate it. I guess I understand what you mean about the blood thing. The grammatical errors, well that was b/c I was in a huge rush typing it. But I am glad you were able to overlook that. Becca, thanks always. jfreak |
||
|
Erin Member Elite
since 2000-06-15
Posts 2527~Chicago~ |
jfreak~~~i am kinda new to this section of passions...i was gonna read your new stary but it said to read these two first...well this is a really good piece of work here...im off to read the next part... |
||
|
jfreak Member
since 1999-06-17
Posts 306Yuma, AZ, USA |
Thanks Erin I am glad you enjoyed the read. J~ |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
