>Light torch and hit him with it!
You don't have the opportunity.
The chitinous claws are cool like stone as they close over your shaking hands, gripping firmly but gently. You try to struggle but his hold on you is more than physical; all you can do is shake and stare and gulp the dryness down your throat as he lowers you gently onto the floor.
His "hands" still gripping your wrists, a slimy tentacle wriggles over his shoulder and down onto your neck. There's a sharp pain, the feeling of something tearing, as it slashes open your throat in a practiced manner. Instead of bleeding out, you're awake and aware as it dives inside your neck, wriggling and slimy.
You feel more cutting, and something being tugged out. Unable to turn your head, the tentacle drifts over your face for a moment as if to gloat, your voicebox wrapped in it's embrace. You watch it carry your organ to the SUICIDE MAN, who slides his mask slightly to let it inside. In the strange way you know things in your dreams, you realize he's eating it.
The SUICIDE MAN continues cutting out peices of you and ingesting them. You can't scream, or fight it, only lay there and watch. Somehow, you don't die as he eats your heart, still beating, you can still breathe as he devours your lungs. Most of the horror comes not from the gore or pain, though, despite the agony being so feirce that you've long since stopped crying. The horror comes from the hollow feeling, the disturbing,
wrongness of your chest being perfectly still.
You're empty now, nothing but a shell of bones and flesh. You're staring at the ceiling, pleading for the nighmare to end, but it doesn't. The SUICIDE MAN starts to pack you in with salt, from somewhere overhead where your door should be. Like a mummy, you're filled with it.
Then he locks you in your closet. You wait for something even worse to happen, but it never does. Nothing worse happens. No-one comes to save you. Nothing happens.
You are aware of every second for the four centuries it takes for someone to find you.
You fall out, salt spilling from your nose and mouth, slipping past sutures long since rotten away. Your chest cavity is still open as well, the salt spilling onto the floor like a tide of sand. The Archeologist screams-
And you awake, sitting bolt-upright in bed, drenched in sweat. A bird sings softly outside your window.
Eiji licks your hand softly, as if sensing your distress.
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Ruby Doll
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Topic: DAISY [Act 4: Voiceless] (Read 67385 times)