Sequel: When Happily Ever After Fails ›
Status: It's basically done... Wow... I never thought I'd see the day.
Be Somewhere
Covered head to toe in blood; face first in a tale of awkward love
Ricky awoke to find the world void of light. A stench of decay and dirt cluttered his nostrils and made it hard to breathe in anything but the musky scent. He wanted to open his eyes; but didn't dare to for fear of what he might find. A high pitched squeal was emitted from something below him and he knew that they were coming closer.
He couldn't fight them off if he couldn't see them. Without any luck, he tried to pry his eyes open. Another shriek echoed in his ears; this one from somewhere to his left. Closer this time; they were always inching closer.
An overwhelming urge to scream swam through his body, but when he opened his mouth soil poured in. He moved his arms slowly to his eyes and tried to open them again; but stitches kept them tightly shut. When he tried to pull them out he winced at the sharp pains that shot through his eyelids.
Something slimy slid past his ankle and he gave a low moan of fear. Ricky could hear their whispers now. They were too close. He tried to thrash about; but the soil was packed too tightly. They were close enough to touch him and he could feel their delight as they realized the terror they had him in.It's just a dream. They aren't real.
No matter how many times he repeated the words to himself, he couldn't believe it. The scent and feel of it were much too real; he could see the darkness that was rushing to kill him; he could taste and smell he soil that constricted his airways. Ricky could feel the ooze left on his skin after the decaying creatures clamped their sticky hands onto him.
If only he could understand what they were saying!
Soon the earth wasn't the only stench lingering around him. The putrid odor of death and his posse swarmed around him and he could feel their cold breath on the back of his neck. A single finger lifted the fabric of his shirt and stroked his spine. His back arched away from the touch.
A harsh murmur left Ricky with the feeling that he had done something wrong. Death was displeased with him. He had disobeyed him somehow; and disobedience must be punished. More fingers slid all over his skin; they felt like knives: cutting his skin into ribbons.
He didn't know when it had happened, but all of his clothing had disappeared. Trembling, he reached out to try and grab at death's cloak, begging for forgiveness. Tears began to seep through the seams and he let them flow freely.
“I'm not scared of you,” he whispered. Their muttering grew louder and he had to scream to be heard. More hands gripped his flesh and he started to hiccup as the tears came faster. They screeched their disapproval as Ricky tried his best to fight them off.
“Please! Somebody, anybody, help me!”
Someone snapped their fingers crisply and Ricky felt the threads being pulled out of his eyes. The hands, however, did not cease in their attempt to grope his bare flesh. He began to shiver as they all attacked at once. Broken and bloodied corpses all worked together in their attempt to pull him apart. Their dead flesh was slick so they kept having to reaffirm their grip and each time they did he would cry out with the fear he was finally admitting plagued him.
The deteriorated faces of the corpses melted and then evolved into people he knew. They all started to perform their separate acts of cruelty. Richard and his mother worked together: Richard to cut open his stomach; and his mother to drag her nails along his entrails, leaving scars where no one would see. His father slid himself into Ricky's backside and violated him again, and again.
Words began to flood his ear canal as Ricky was forced to watch his friends mutilated by others; all the while they tried to soothe him. Finally he was left for dead. Already underground, the dead bodies swam through the ocean of dirt to their graves and left him in his own.
The pain was unimaginable. Every fiber of his being was either bruised or leaking copious amounts of blood. He heard their wails of victory and he brought his knees to his chest. They could take everything from him, everything but his pride. He felt the dirt shift around him and he couldn't help but cry out with the shock. They were coming back; they were already coming back.
A hole opened up beneath him and he fell through a deep passage that got darker as he plummeted farther. He closed his eyes and started to count to eight in an attempt to calm his racing heart. When he finally dared open his eyes, he found himself to be in a space that was stained white. Not a speck of dirt could be seen and he felt like he made its perfect surface uglier.
The ground crumbled before him and he watches as it turned into sand. The new form of round began o taint itself and took on the crimson of his blood. The sky darkened until an inky blackness surrounded him; all except for one spot which resembled a full moon. The ground churned and sent him sprawling. Sand dunes rolled for miles, and although there was no wind, the grains at the top of the hills flittered in the wind.
He took a few cautious steps forward and found that if he moved at all, he sank deeper into the sand. It quickly morphed into a liquid. He sank; all attempts to swim were in vain. He held his breath and prayed that his journey would end. Thoughts began to clutter his mind, but the lack of oxygen made them unclear. He only knew one for sure:Not like this. I won't go out like this.
He hit the bottom with a dullthud and started to gasp for breath. A nagging feeling overwhelmed him and he pulled himself into an upright sitting position. It was a small room; five feet by five feet; with a ceiling that he couldn't have touched if he had jumped his highest. Ricky placed his back to one of the walls and stared to whimper as he rocked back and forth.
“What do you fear?” Ricky's head snapped up and he felt the scrutiny of death's glare. Icy dread ran through his veins but he found himself feigning bravery. “I want the truth, Ricky.”
“I fear nothing,” he replied stubbornly. A low growl from his foe signaled that he had answered wrong. Unease gripped his stomach again. Death was cold and calm; waiting, patiently. When the silence became too much to bear, he answered again; not daring to lie twice.
“Everything,” he finally whispered, “Everything except you.”
He couldn't fight them off if he couldn't see them. Without any luck, he tried to pry his eyes open. Another shriek echoed in his ears; this one from somewhere to his left. Closer this time; they were always inching closer.
An overwhelming urge to scream swam through his body, but when he opened his mouth soil poured in. He moved his arms slowly to his eyes and tried to open them again; but stitches kept them tightly shut. When he tried to pull them out he winced at the sharp pains that shot through his eyelids.
Something slimy slid past his ankle and he gave a low moan of fear. Ricky could hear their whispers now. They were too close. He tried to thrash about; but the soil was packed too tightly. They were close enough to touch him and he could feel their delight as they realized the terror they had him in.It's just a dream. They aren't real.
No matter how many times he repeated the words to himself, he couldn't believe it. The scent and feel of it were much too real; he could see the darkness that was rushing to kill him; he could taste and smell he soil that constricted his airways. Ricky could feel the ooze left on his skin after the decaying creatures clamped their sticky hands onto him.
If only he could understand what they were saying!
Soon the earth wasn't the only stench lingering around him. The putrid odor of death and his posse swarmed around him and he could feel their cold breath on the back of his neck. A single finger lifted the fabric of his shirt and stroked his spine. His back arched away from the touch.
A harsh murmur left Ricky with the feeling that he had done something wrong. Death was displeased with him. He had disobeyed him somehow; and disobedience must be punished. More fingers slid all over his skin; they felt like knives: cutting his skin into ribbons.
He didn't know when it had happened, but all of his clothing had disappeared. Trembling, he reached out to try and grab at death's cloak, begging for forgiveness. Tears began to seep through the seams and he let them flow freely.
“I'm not scared of you,” he whispered. Their muttering grew louder and he had to scream to be heard. More hands gripped his flesh and he started to hiccup as the tears came faster. They screeched their disapproval as Ricky tried his best to fight them off.
“Please! Somebody, anybody, help me!”
Someone snapped their fingers crisply and Ricky felt the threads being pulled out of his eyes. The hands, however, did not cease in their attempt to grope his bare flesh. He began to shiver as they all attacked at once. Broken and bloodied corpses all worked together in their attempt to pull him apart. Their dead flesh was slick so they kept having to reaffirm their grip and each time they did he would cry out with the fear he was finally admitting plagued him.
The deteriorated faces of the corpses melted and then evolved into people he knew. They all started to perform their separate acts of cruelty. Richard and his mother worked together: Richard to cut open his stomach; and his mother to drag her nails along his entrails, leaving scars where no one would see. His father slid himself into Ricky's backside and violated him again, and again.
Words began to flood his ear canal as Ricky was forced to watch his friends mutilated by others; all the while they tried to soothe him. Finally he was left for dead. Already underground, the dead bodies swam through the ocean of dirt to their graves and left him in his own.
The pain was unimaginable. Every fiber of his being was either bruised or leaking copious amounts of blood. He heard their wails of victory and he brought his knees to his chest. They could take everything from him, everything but his pride. He felt the dirt shift around him and he couldn't help but cry out with the shock. They were coming back; they were already coming back.
A hole opened up beneath him and he fell through a deep passage that got darker as he plummeted farther. He closed his eyes and started to count to eight in an attempt to calm his racing heart. When he finally dared open his eyes, he found himself to be in a space that was stained white. Not a speck of dirt could be seen and he felt like he made its perfect surface uglier.
The ground crumbled before him and he watches as it turned into sand. The new form of round began o taint itself and took on the crimson of his blood. The sky darkened until an inky blackness surrounded him; all except for one spot which resembled a full moon. The ground churned and sent him sprawling. Sand dunes rolled for miles, and although there was no wind, the grains at the top of the hills flittered in the wind.
He took a few cautious steps forward and found that if he moved at all, he sank deeper into the sand. It quickly morphed into a liquid. He sank; all attempts to swim were in vain. He held his breath and prayed that his journey would end. Thoughts began to clutter his mind, but the lack of oxygen made them unclear. He only knew one for sure:Not like this. I won't go out like this.
He hit the bottom with a dullthud and started to gasp for breath. A nagging feeling overwhelmed him and he pulled himself into an upright sitting position. It was a small room; five feet by five feet; with a ceiling that he couldn't have touched if he had jumped his highest. Ricky placed his back to one of the walls and stared to whimper as he rocked back and forth.
“What do you fear?” Ricky's head snapped up and he felt the scrutiny of death's glare. Icy dread ran through his veins but he found himself feigning bravery. “I want the truth, Ricky.”
“I fear nothing,” he replied stubbornly. A low growl from his foe signaled that he had answered wrong. Unease gripped his stomach again. Death was cold and calm; waiting, patiently. When the silence became too much to bear, he answered again; not daring to lie twice.
“Everything,” he finally whispered, “Everything except you.”
♠ ♠ ♠
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