Captivity

He's having a bad day.

A door slammed shut behind him, awaking the young man; the muffled screams pulled him out of his daze as he came to. The pleas, the begging, the frightful sobbing penetrated his ears like daggers as his head rang in pain. His mouth was gagged, and his body strapped to a sturdy wooden chair. He was stripped of most of his clothing; he could see it tossed aside across the room, soaked with blood and sweat. His heart began beating vehemently as he looked around; a scent of fear filled the cold and damp room to which he was confined. Two others, one to his left, the other to his right, were placed alongside him in the room; a single light beamed down upon their damned souls in an otherwise barren room. They too were strapped to chairs similar to his, and stripped of their clothing. As he began to become more conscious of his predicament, he sensed a fowl odor that had gone unnoticed to him.

He looked once more at the man to the left of him, seeing clearly what he had missed moments ago. The man, or rather what was left of him, was terrifyingly skinny; his flesh barely covered the bones on his body; his head, covered in heaps of dried blood, drooped forward. He looked down at the corpse's feet, seeing dried blood covering where his toe nails would have been. The man tried to vomit, almost choking as he forced it down his throat; the gag taunted and shamed him so. He looked over to the right, where the other man was seemingly unconscious. The young man noticed a pool of blood underneath the other's chair, quickly realizing the origin was the man's pelvic region. His undergarments were soaked with blood, and his body trembled every so often, remaining unconscious. The young man's thoughts were clouded by terror and helplessness as he frantically tried to think of something to do; screams continued to be heard.

The room's cement walls and floors were stripped of shelving and objects, replaced with pools of water and blood stains. On one section of the wall, pieces of flesh stuck to the dried blood, and an eyeball rested on the floor beneath. He noticed various tools, ranging in size and shape scattered on the floor, all sharing the motif of blood. Behind him was a set of wooden stairs, leading up to what he assumed to be the ground floor, placing him in a basement of sorts. It seemed to be divided into at least four rooms, in a way that almost mimicked a tennis court lacking a net. He could barely hear movement upstairs, but could not make out any distinguishing or recognizable voices; the sounds of sheer terror that came from the surrounding rooms rang in his ear. Suddenly, he heard large creaks, accompanied by heavy footsteps that seemed to approach the stairwell, sending a cold rush of fear down his spine.

Author's Note

Written around a year ago.

Reviews

[Chuck Briggs]

Great, vivid descriptions with most of those adverbs firmly under control. It looks like a great start. A couple of minor style/spell check errors:

"Fowl odor" should be foul odor. Of course you know this, but these things slip by. (Unless of course, I'm missing the point and they smelled like chickens. :) )

"screams continued to be heard." Passive voice. "He continued to hear screams or screaming." Perhaps.

Those are just nitpicks. Great job.

[frorizzle2013]

Fowl... I can't believe I never noticed that. I've always tried to be open minded about passive voice. Some people are very, very anal about it, but others find it useful. I don't know. I suppose in this case, it doesn't flow well. Much obliged, sir.

[Butters]

This is Aesome!!!!! This is what I was talking about when I reviewed your story 'Taxidermist'. You have successfully described the surrounndings without being too descriptive and have made me relate to one of the main characters. I truely love this one. Please continue this story I need to know now what happens!

[frorizzle2013]

Thank you! After I wrote it, I decided to make it into like, a 9 or 10 part compilation of one or two page short stories that come together to form a bigger picture.