The Killing Well

September 9th, 2001(Prologue)

She could feel the blood seeping from her shoulders, hear little droplets landing wherever gravity permitted. Her clothes were sodden with blood, and the fear started to set in. It was dark, a hellish black empty darkness she had never experienced before. Left to her own devices, Amelia could only hear, taste and touch the darkness that would soon seal her fate.

The weathered cobblestone beneath her bloodied feet felt dilapidated, almost ancient. As if it had been here for thousands of years and all she could think about was how many others had come before her, in the same situation.

She's startled by the thoughts that are vacating her mind, was she enjoying this? Or succumbing to the awareness of certain death? On the precipice of an awakening, her blood is now boiling, racing with uninhibited adrenaline. She would claw her way out if that's what it took.

There was no conceivable way out of this hell hole I had found myself in.

Every crack and crevice of the timeless cobblestone floors and walls, the dark, was suffocating me as if I had sucked out all of the oxygen. As soon as I heard a key enter a lock, panic settled in.

If I knew how many bones were in my body, I could unequivocally tell you that every single one of them was shaking. The blackness skewed my senses, an odious odor swirling through the air felt like I was in the presence of death.

From the sound of it, a steel blade ran across the wall screeching like nails on a chalkboard. I tried to brace my body for the impact but before It even has a chance to respond; Slashed, along my thigh, with sharp precision and speed! How the fuck could he even see down here? Or if it was even human? Even more frightening, something sadistically sinister and evil.

I had so many questions and decades would pass until I got answers, as I sit whimpering in a pool of blood, all I can do is let my body relax and hope for the pain to stop.

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© 2016 Christina Jackson