Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 4 - Sweet Nightmares (AR)

With a mid-air jerk, Aikin's eyes snapped open to meet an old friend of his that typically went by the name, "Darkness." Not a shred of light let him know where he was, what time of day it was, or how long it'd been since he'd last opened his eyes. The most dominant feeling that coursed through him was the feeling of blood rushing to his brain, his hair hanging loosely away from his forehead, the sensation of being upside-down. Ya see, I have a blackout at the worst possible moment, and this is where I end up. Good job, me. I swear, I hate my brain sometimes. Now, getting down...

A loud groan escaped him as he tried moving his leg, the sound echoing off the walls of wherever he was. The room was empty, he knew. The only other audible sound (his heavy breaths excluded) was the jingle of metal against metal: chains. Tight shackles bound his ankles, suspending him from the ceiling. His stomach dropped...or rose? Ah, forget it, I'm too disoriented for this. All he knew was that he needed down, and fast. He quickly shuffled through a plethora of possibilities, all of them useless and time-wasting. No, I can't use a blowtorch to get myself down. No, I will not chop my own leg off. No, I will not let myself hang here for eternity.

But something crept in the back of his mind, something that said he would be stuck there forever. He would be left hanging there like a butchered pig, his throat slit, blood rushing down his face, into his eyes, draining out of him and turning him cold. He could almost hear the drip, drip, drip now, although he knew it was only his brain messing with him. Or was it? Now that he paid attention, his sweat was the equivalent of water being poured down his face. The drip, drip, drip was real, but thankfully not blood. But man, do I sweat a lot.

And he'd be sweating even more in the next few minutes from the struggle he'd undoubtedly go through trying to break free. Okay, okay. Back and forth, we'll see if we find anything... Flexing his abdomen and swinging his arms, he rocked to and fro. At first it was slow-going, but after the first few attempts he found plenty of space in the room. He hadn't met a wall yet, to his disappointment. His fingers brushed the concrete ground. It was damp, and as he took another heavy breath in, something musty overwhelmed his nostrils. 

Aikin had to cease his swinging for a moment to calm the coughing that sprung up on him. For some reason, he found it necessary to cover his mouth when he did so. There's no one in here, why do I care?  One cough was harsh enough to force his eyes closed.

When he opened them again, he really wished he hadn't.

A pair of glowing blue eyes, like neon, stared directly into his own. They were large. They were haunting. And they were familiar.

With a yelp, Aikin jerked away from the floating orbs, only to swing himself back towards them. "Rahg!" he hollered. Instinctually, he reached out to punch whatever was there. His knuckles met air. Slowly, he raised his gaze up to the eyes again. They held an amused twinkle for a moment, and dozens of laughs from dozens of sources filled the room. Aikin felt his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, bu-bum-bu-bum-bu-bum.

The chuckles dyed down, and a voice in the corner whispered something, something incoherent. A giggle from a different voice followed, and whispered back. These inaudible conversations popped up one by one, getting louder and louder, and Aikin pressed his hands to his forehead. They see me as weak, vulnerable, pathetic. They're judging me, I know it... And I don't know where anyone is, where I even am. I hate this, I hate this....

He could pick out a few bits of the conversations by now: "...Managed to get himself tied up...ignorant fool...he'll get nowhere...doesn't even speak...I bet he hides it because...monster...he killed...monster...monster...monster!"