Glastian had tears streaming down his dirt encrusted cheeks but Unknown took out his leather whip and lashed out at him mercilessly, making the skin on his little back split wide open-his flesh was near torn from his bones. Each strike sent his rigid frame flinging forward as he braced himself for the next blow all while begging, sobbing and attempting to curl into a ball to protect his head from being split open. "Don't cry!" he ordered, kicking him in the stomach. My face went slack as my mouth hung open. What kind of sick, twisted beast lashes out at a eight year old? "You asshole! How dare you hurt him!" I cried, slapping him across the face. Oh sh*t, what have I done? After a moment of stunned silence, he spoke. "I once said that I wouldn't hurt them with this," he said, taking out his rusty scalpel and waving it threateningly in front of my face. "But since you were a bad girl-" I trembled under the blade and felt the tears trickling down my cheeks, for I knew what was coming. Clenching my jaw, I wiped the sweat from my brow. "Where shall we start, sweetheart?" "Go to hell," I spat. He let out a half-hearted chuckle before shaking his head. "You're a fiesty one aren't you? I think I'll start with your leg so you can't kick me anymore," he mumbled. He traced my leg with the scalpel, pressing it harder and harder against my flesh until he reached the spot that he'd desired. I let out a blood-curdling scream as blood trickled down my leg in scarlet streams. Its coppery scent filled the air as he began to cut deeper into it. Black spots started to cloud my vision as the world around me began to spin. I could hear Kate screaming and calling my name before my knees buckled and my head hit the ground. "Mommy!" "You... ... middle of paper ... ...'t think straight. I screamed and thrashed about helplessly as the raging flames engulfed me further. I wished that I could have ended it now but I knew that all I could do was to wait for the flames to kill me, though that seemed like an eternity away. My parents were soon by my side, holding my hand as the entire building crumbled to the ground, engulfed by the flames of death. That was when I noticed their wings. They were as white as snow and as silky and smooth as a swan’s feathers. They fluttered gently, in all their magnificent glory, before becoming still, like a blanket of purity. They wore stunning white robes made of silk that flowed to their ankles. Intricate designs were sewn onto the robes in gold thread and glass beads, which reflected the fire’s inferno glow. Finally, my mother spoke in that rich, velvety voice of hers. “Let’s go home, honey.”
In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeoning’s of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.
I ran like heck out of there, screaming and crying, convinced I’d destroyed the whole world.
I looked down to see so much blood gushing down my chin. I was regretting ever letting them come
At that moment I knew it was all over. I sat on the edge of my seat and covered my eyes.
I felt terrible. My head wouldn't let up, every broken bone or bruise in my body seemed to be on fire, and I was extremely dizzy, even though I was just sitting. And I really, really wanted some water, but the kitchen was too far away.
My eyes were glistening from the tears that were fighting
Hands reached out to snatch an appealing, ripe orange out of the ceramic bowl on the counter. I watched, alarmed, as I unwillingly stared as my brethren were deftly peeled. It seemed the pain wouldn't be plausible until I myself felt it, experienced the unfamiliar, less-than-pleasant sensation, nor did the thing show any signs of putting an end to its assault. I heard the cries and screams of my kind, begging for mercy from the being as they were peeled and thrown into a dark crevice on the thing’s face. I had a sense of terrible trepidation as I was picked up. The nails of the strange creature dug into my skin, peeling off the layer and pulling me apart. The pain could only be described as excruciating. That was it. Excruciating. I attempted to cry out to no avail.
creature stood before me, gnarling teeth, sharp enough to slice cleanly through my flesh. Skin, a sickish green, mounted with boils and sores, rough and jagged all over. Claws, double the size of the contorted figure, curled by it's side. The creature hunched over, as it were waiting to pounce any second, or maybe as if I was waiting for it to pounce. Now, I was more curious then frightful. My feet glued to the floor, my heart pounding heavily. I was to be a victim, slaughtered and eaten as the main course yet I still stood. The compelling need, to look the creature in the eye had taken over, and my chin lifted. Our eyes met, and my breath caught in my throat. My stomach churned, not at the sight of the horns that stretched from it's forehead,
The water dripped slowly down my back, making me shiver and tremble. The chains held me in place, refusing to loosen their grip even for a minute no matter how I struggled. Another muffled cry from outside drifted through the stone.
More ideas of harm had slithered their sly way into my thoughts. I cackled again, louder this time. And again, and again, with each increasing in volume. Tears rolled down my cheek as my stomach scrunched, my legs in the air like a cockroach.
Everyone blew out a breath. It’s daunting—when I think about what I’m about to do, I get a churning feeling in my stomach. Was this the right idea? Yesterday, another church was burned down, people inside no more than ash. Is that going to be me in a few days?
His fingers brushed around the area, causing shivers to go down my spine, and pain to pulse through my leg. He gets a cloth and wiped the blood off my thighs and dots some anesthetic on my cuts. Tears fall again but I keep my composure.
I can feel the sweat dripping into the cuts on my arms and face. It stings, like really bad, imagine getting bitten by mosquito, then imagine getting bitten all over your body about fifty times, yeah that bad. My blonde hair matted down with sweat. I stand my ground though and wipe the sweat away from my face on my arm. The bow in my left hand is getting heavier and heavier by the minute and the I count only three arrows left in my quiver. If I’m going to make a move I have to make it fast. I see his shadow against the wall of the cave lit only by three torches. The golligon, a man who is about three feet taller than me and 250 pounds of pure muscle, and in place of his legs he has the tail of a snake, slithers towards me. I can tell he is fatigued as well as he is not moving as fast as he was at the beginning of the match. I dodge the swing of his giant double sided axe and as I lay on the ground I pull and arrow out of my quiver and nock it onto my bow string. I take a breath, pull the string back to my mouth, I aim it at his back and let the arrow fly. It hits him right in the center of the back, I take a breath of relief and start to lay down when I realize that I’ve only made him angrier. He slithers towards me again. I start to get up but
My stomach retched, my throat dry, had I got myself into this mess? A distant thud echoed across the cold, hard floor, ricocheting into my ear. Someone was coming.