2-29-2016 Fiction

Almost Ready

My eyes blink hard in the darkness. I'm half expecting the light to suddenly fill my pupils and cause them to contract sharply, but when I open my eyelids, the same old black nothingness is in front of me. I look in all directions, as if by chance I might catch the movement of black on black; was that a shadow, is someone hiding in here with me? My ears perk up as something, somewhere scratches the air with the faintest of sounds.

Crap! It was only my breathing.

My lungs heave up and compress over and over again. Routines going through the motions, obligatory processes so that I may live, and it all seems meaningless. What kind of life is mine now? Where the hell am I? If I don't know where I am, who is with me, or what anything looks like, do I even have an identity? I try to move my arms apart. They are connected by the wrist, something strong, like metal; I yank and twist but only make my entire body weak. Then, I hear it.

Footsteps! Someone is walking, judging from the slight echo and muffle, in a hallway leading up to this room. However, I'm not hopeful enough to be optimistic. It is probably him, whoever he is. I scoot on my ass into a corner. That's when I realize my leg is cuffed to something. I feel around with my bound hands- I'm chained up and my leg had apparently gone numb a while ago. The footsteps continue and then pause.

Light cuts into my flesh and eyeballs as the door swings open. I recoil further into the angle of the corner, trying to hide myself away from not only him but from that cursed light. I tuck my head in between the shoulders and bend my uni-arm in front of my face. I hear him walk towards me and stop. I don't look up.

Several minutes inched past but I don't hear anything more, no movement, no words. I look up to see him staring at me intently with his lips pursed as if deep in thought. I'm pretty sure he's not blinking, like at all; my mind starts to spin on about how he's probably an alien, or a robot. I meet his eyes but nothing changes in his, the expression is blank except for his tight lips.

"Is it ready yet?" A voice with a heavy accent calls out from the hallway.

"No," he says and turns to leave the room.

The door slowly shuts and darkness floods the room once again. I've been sitting in here for hours now, maybe even a whole day, I can't tell. All I know is, I'm still not ready. I want to be ready. I want to plea with them that I am ready, but there's no one to talk with here. I am alone with my thoughts, aware enough to know that my thoughts are slipping into some weird places full of aliens and robots. Dragons. Angels. Demons. A cruise ship to the Bahamas. I can feel my brain losing lucidity.

Yes, I am almost ready.

2-25-2016 Fiction

An Animal

She stands there naked, in the middle of the room, slightly hunched to the right because the chains restraining that side of her body are much shorter than those for her left. She had been here, standing locked in this spot for three days. The only break in her posture now is her neck, slumping her head forward and towards the right. He looks her over. It isn't clear if she tore any muscles as her body tried to give way and relax. Concerned, he enters the room and shuts the heavy steel door behind him. Her head shoots up as it clanks shut.

"I see your muscles are holding up," he remarks casually. He wipes the dirty mess from her cheek; a smear of old tears and dirt that looks like make up in the dimly lit room. She tries to pull away from his hand. "Oh my dear, it appears you still haven't learned anything here."

He starts to walk away and she pleads with him, but the words are incoherent. He pauses a second before pulling the door open.

"Please," she sobs out and stops him in the doorway.

"I haven't eaten in days," she mumbles, "please?"

"And?" He asks with a tone suggesting just how little he cares.

"May I be unchained for just a moment?" She asks, "Just a moment."

He glances over at the door and then kicks it shut. She hasn't the strength in her to pull it inward to get out. He had designed this cell with careful thought. He gets up without a word and undoes her chains, and then walks in between her and the door.

She slowly, painfully, carefully lowers herself to the floor. Kneeling before him with her head bowed, "What can I do to earn food and water?"

"Ah, perhaps I was too hasty earlier," he smirked, "wait here." He walks over and takes a single chain and locks it to the chain around her neck. "This will be more comfortable, won't it pet?"

"Yes Sir," she says lifting her head and smiling for the first time since he locked her in the Bad Room.

"After you are fed and rested, I think you may rejoin the house," he smiles.

"Thank you, Sir," she replies and tries to rise. He goes over and helps her up, leaning her against the cold wall. "Thank you again, Sir."

He returns with two silver dishes staked upon each other. Grunting, he pushes the door open and sets the dishes down, bumps the door with his hip and then follows up with a kick when it doesn't shut all the way. He takes the top dish and sets it to the right of the other dish. She can see one has food of some sort and the other water.

"On your knees, crawl over here," he orders. She remains standing, a look of disgust on her face; defiance. His face stiffens as he watches her. "You are hungry, aren't you, pet?"

She goes to her knees, still looking up at him with resentment, and crawls clumsily over to the dog dishes. The food smells so good and the heat rising up from the dish feels so good to her face. She seems to forget that she is a lady and begins to eat with the gusto of an animal. He smiles.

"Good girl," he murmurs as she enjoys her first meal in three days,"I may just make you useful yet."

2-1-2016 Fiction

Eye of the Camera

Cameras. Pftt. They watch everything she does. Recording every inch of skin into the memory. Glaring, watching as if in judgment as she rolled around on the pile of her clothes, reaching positions to flatter herself. But then, she saw there was no judgment inn the voyeuristic camera. It enjoyed it all.

She grabbed her left breast and took the knife he had left on the nightstand. She slowly carved a superficial heart into her breast. She showed the camera the beads of blood; they came slowly to the surface in the order of penetration, unfolding like a flower bloom before the man who watched on the other side. The heart came to be, bead by bloody bead. Then, she kissed her art and smiled at him through the lens; blood staining her lips.

Come taste she said with her eyes.

Her captor rose from his seat and switched the camera off. Then, he paused in the doorway, returning to flip it right back on. He knew what she was doing. She was trying to manipulate him, lull him into some fantasy; doping his mind with her sex and here he was, walking right into her hands. He grinned to himself as he unlocked the door to the room his prize had lived in for the past two weeks.

Immediately, she dove at him, knife still in her hands. He chuckled as he flung her aside and watched the knife clang against the cement floor and spin a half circle. She was so cute. So predictable. He grabbed her by the hair and led her back over to her bed.

"Get dressed," he commanded and she merely stared up at him, tears in her eyes now. Her eyes were reddening quickly as he continued to stare at her. He arched his eyebrow and nodded towards her clothing.

Carefully, she put her clothes back on and sat on the edge of the bed again, staring up at him. He moved towards her and she flinched violently. Cute and predictable, he grinned. He stood directly in front of her, so close that she scooted back on the bed to avoid their legs touching one another's.

"You no longer have the privileged of being unclothed," he said with a hint of anger.

She hadn't wanted to be naked in the first place, but then she realized she felt a mourning. She lowered her head a little but raised her eyes to keep him in her sights. She didn't trust him. You don't trust someone who abducted you off the street. She shook her head to herself.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice booming over her head, stunning her slightly.

She answered with a heavy sigh, closed her eyes, and then shrugged. Her eyes met his again. The light inside of them wasn't entirely gone. He would keep her as long as there was light. Nothing good happens when the lights of the eyes go dark, he knew this well. He sighed himself then, and caressed her cheek with the knuckle of his middle finger.

"Now, I do believe I am entitled to a taste of that," he said.