Short Bursts/Horror/Caged/Eaten

From Create Your Own Story

"What do you want," You yell at the nameless people around you.

They jabber in words you cannot understand, and occasionally poke you with sticks.

Where did they go, you think to yourself.

You had been with your college hiking group, and had twisted your ankle. For some reason, no one even noticed you. You hobbled along as best you could, but the group was long gone. No one around, no idea where to go, you tried following the path to see if you could catch them. After the first day, you realized they had left you. Eventually, after a few days of stumbling around, you ran into these people.

Dark skin. Small stature. They all looked the same, and jabbered in some language you could not understand.

Still, you held out hope that they could help you.

They brought you to a camp, almost like some Indian tribe. Two men took you over to a small stream, and violently ripped your clothes off.

Like some animal, they shoved you in the water, dunked you, used some hard, abrasive thing to scrub you clean. Then, they threw you in this cage.

A child pokes a stick in the cage, poking you in the side.

"What do you want! you scream at them.

The child laughs, before moving away.

The worst part about it is, they aren't looking at you with lust, like your nudity does not mean anything to them. They aren't looking at you with anything.

You shrink into a smaller ball, trying to protect yourself as another group of children comes over to poke at you.

"Get away from me!" you shriek at them, trying to get them to stop, trying to bat the sticks away while still covering your nudity.

You jump!

One stick is sharp. It comes away with red on the tip, and you feel blood slowly trick down your side.

Another jump, another stick piercing your skin.

You cry out, then scream, a primal sound without words.

You just want this to be over.

Adults of these small, dark skinned people come over to the children, chiding them softly and moving them away from you. You go to thank them for stopping it, but realize they are looking at the children like they are just being mischievous. For you, their look is empty, flat, expressionless. A chill runs through you as you think about the bath, think about the way they look at you without lust. Like you are nothing but some object.

You sit in the cage for an hour, trying to communicate, realizing it doesn't do any good, and falling into a stupor. No food is brought, and when the urge comes, you have no choice but to urinate and defecate sitting in this little cage.

Soon, your ass is chafed, and you are filthy, covered in mud made worse by your own urine and feces.

You are taken out of the cage, muscles cramped, locked up. They do not care, dragging you by your arm when you cannot get up fast enough.

Dirt grinds into your side, scraping along the skin, rocks cutting into it. Finally, you manage to get up enough to manage some sort of walk, following them before they drag you further. They let go of your arm and continue to lead you back to the stream.

Again, you are shoved into it, held down as someone straddles your back. For a minute, it seems like they are planning to drown you as they shove your head underwater, holding it there. As they draw their rough material across one of the puncture wounds from the kids and their sharp sticks, you scream, or try to. Head still underwater, you instead take in a lungful of air.

You struggle harder, trying to get your head up, feeling the water fill your lungs.

Someone roughly grabs your hair, pulling you above the water, as you cough fitfully, the water pouring out of your mouth from your lungs, nausea overwhelming you, breath painful.

Soon you are clean again, your skin raw and red from the abrasive material. You try to communicate again, but they look at you passively, not bothering to try to understand, as they continue scrubbing you.

Once finished, you are lead to a tent. As you approach, the smell overwhelms you. Bile creeps up your throat at the sickly sweet smell of decay.

Brought in, you scream, as you see people hanging upside down from crude racks made from sticks. Males, females. Glazed eyes staring at nothing, stomachs slashed open and hollowed out.

They roughly shove you on a stump, leaving you to stare at the rings in it, pained in red. Abruptly, you realize what they were looking at you like: cows.

You try struggling, but it does no good, as the person holding your head down, and the other holding your arms and torso barely move with your struggle.

You see the blade go down to your neck, feel it bite into the skin. In an instant, you can feel it brought across, feel your blood pouring out of your open throat.

It should hurt more, you think as the world grows dim. Shouldn't it hurt to get your throat cut?

Blackness swallows you.