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The Victim
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The Victim |
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Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia 
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The room was black, so black in fact that the girl, held in total darkness, tried to create light with her brain. She punctuated the darkness will flares of red, to no avail. She tried to move and found she could not, meanwhile lances of pain coursed up and down her arms, back and shoulder. 'Where am I?' she thought gingerly. 'What has happened to bring me to this place? The last I remember I was playing with my sisters.' Somewhere, far off she heard the sound of machinery , whirring and humming like a berserk hummingbird and running counterpoint to that sound was the steady plink–plonk of dripping water. 'Water!' she thought desperately. 'I'm so thirsty!' She ran her tongue over her cracked and chapped lips and felt the dryness in them. She was parched and it was reflected in her scaling skin that itched and added to her discomfort. If she lay perfectly still, the pain in her back, shoulders and arms was diminished although the itch on her skin drove her nearly mad; it was as if someone had rubbed soap all over her and left it to dry. She smelled something nearby, long dead and rotting and the scent of it awoke her hunger. It had been a long time since she had eaten meat. Her family had given up meat as part of their new puritan lifestyle but she had never agreed with them on that stance. 'How long have I been here and where is here?' she asked herself desperately. Fragments of memory returned. She remembered playing with her sisters outside the shack, in the barren wasteland, she and her siblings called home. She remembered the creature with a weapon following her and her sisters as they played. She recalled with vivid accuracy the fear, mingled with desire for what he had. The feeling of that fear when she had first been captured returned in full force and her body spasmed in response. The pain brought her back to reality and out of her memories with a shock that left her trembling. Then she heard the sounds of a door being opened and there was light. A single low wattage globe hung overhead that left her tormentor in silhouette but glinted sharply off the machete that he held in his hand. She knew her captor was a he by the way he walked but there was nothing else that gave away either his gender or his intention. His hair was long and as he moved into the light, she saw his features were androgynous. He bore the strength of a man with the grace of a woman and the half light played tricks on her mind creating shadows of both male and female characteristics. He moved closer but was silent and impassive, despite the malice, which burned from his eyes, speaking volumes. He approached the narrow cot she was lying on and turned her easily, as if she was a half starved child. Her face now pressed into the stale and stinking mattress was covered. The smell of blood, her blood, filled her nostrils and she breathed shallow and rapid. She turned her head slightly to face her captor and asked querulously, 'Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this?' There was no response, she had not expected one. Vague memories of going through the same questions before with the same result filled her mind and she whimpered a little. The tormentor began hacking savagely, silently at her back. He chopped methodically until her wings, her beautiful wings, were no more than bleeding stubs. She cried; bereft of all hope now but still desiring to know the answer to the eternal why. 'Please!' She said softly, cajolingly, 'just tell me why!' Her tormentor looked at her with what seemed to be pity and said: 'I'm sorry it's the only way we can be rid of your kind.' 'My kind! My…' she thought desperately. 'What does he mean?' Suddenly the pain overwhelmed her and a string of invective was let loose, as were her bowels, then she embraced the darkness which could not be pierced by any brain let alone her dying one. She sighed once as all pain and life left her and then there was nothing more than a dead body to be cleaned and prepared. ***** The man meticulously washed his hands after cutting the girls flesh into tiny strips to be hung, dried and used as bait. 'Gods!' he said distastefully 'this is the part of the job I hate!' Still it was HIS job and since he was the one who had found the nest of Harpies it would likely be his job until he had eradicated them all. Here in the midst of my lonely abyss, a single joy I find...your presence in my mind. Unknown |
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| © Copyright 2004 Lynne Dale - All Rights Reserved | |||
Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Kethry, Seems like your work experience played into this. It sure brought images to my mind. You made me squirm.  If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again. |
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Endlessecho Member
since 2003-09-05
Posts 398I live within myself |
Very interesting... Wow! |
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LoveBug
Moderator
Member Elite
since 2000-01-08
Posts 4697 |
Some... gory images there... but they work. One can read a lot into this... getting rid of 'their kind', esc. Very interesting piece here, Kethry. Oh, make me Thine forever |
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iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
Very fascinating piece, Kerthy -- I highly enjoyed it! |
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