My Collection of Short Stories and Poetry

Chains

Dazed and confused, you wake up from a deep slumber, only to open your eyes to nothing but the pitch black. You feel the sting of cold, wet metal around your wrists and

looking around trying to make out shapes in the dark, all you hear is the rattle of metal on metal and you can feel the cold ground biting at your skin through your thin layer of clothing. Trying to sit up, you feel the shackles around your wrist pull and tighten, hearing it pull on something at the other end of the room.

Unexpectedly, lights burst on in the room, blinding you momentarily. Once your eyes can adjust, you observe the room, panic settling into your chest as you realize the situation you're in. You see a speaker in the top right corner of the room from where you're sitting, and realize it's small, no bigger than a large dog house. As a tiny person, you fit almost perfectly, since you weigh 90 pounds and are no taller than 5 feet tall. Your heart beats rapidly when you see the floor is metal linoleum, the walls are concrete, as is the ceiling.

In front of you is a dull blade, sharp and pointy at the tip but very dull along the side. You cock your head to the side and pull on the chains, trying to move away as you see it is directly lined up with your heart. Crackling is heard over the speaker on the ceiling.

"Hello darling, welcome to hell. I know you have many questions so I will answer a few." The voice is familiar but vaguely so, and you can't tell if it is female or male. "This room? It represents your mind. The blade? Your thoughts. The chains? Your restrictions." The person pauses, allowing you to process what they said. You can barely hear them over the fast beating of your heart, the sound of blood rushing through your veins very clearly heard in your ears. You clinch your eyes shut from the bright fluorescent lights, fear laced throughout your small child like body.

"I know how you feel so I am giving you an example of what happens to people whom kill themselves. Each time you pull on the chains, it makes the knife get closer and closer to your body. Try to escape the trap you've set for yourself." At the end of their speech is laughter. It isn't crazed, like a mad scientist. It is a genuine, evil laughter, full of joy at the looks of suffering.

Your heart beats erratically now, and you quickly look around the room trying to escape. While you try to stand up it angles the knife upwards, slowly coming closer. You realize the knife and chains are connected under the ground. Thinking quickly, you kneel down, crawling towards the knife, trying to not pull on it too much. Calming your breathing, you realize you could suffocate, with limited air in here. Breathing slowly in through your nose and out through your mouth, you hold the knife in place with your feet, and place it over the chains to your shackles. You begin sawing away, needing to put forth a large amount of effort.

After what seems like forever, you're covered in sweat and panting, breathing heavily. Inspecting the chains, you see the knife has made barely a dent in the metal and let out a growl of frustrated fear. You kick forward in anger, the knife sliding against your leg, the tip piercing your skin.

Gasping in pain, you lean forward and press on the little cut, drawing the knife closer to you. You've noticed that no matter the way you move, it always angles towards your heart as you can't turn around. Inhaling through your teeth in a half open grimace, you draw back, the chains laying there limply.

Sighing in defeat, you slump low on the ground. "I give up!" You call out, defeat and sadness overwhelming the fear in your voice. The speaker crackles to life once more, and the last ray of hope dies in your heart with your capturer's final words. "You did before. Now it's official."

All you hear is the sound of chains moving and you look at the knife. It gets louder and the knife rams straight into your heart. Your eyes wide open in the immense pain; you slump down, blood pouring from your mouth. You take your last breathe, gurgling out your last word. "Why?"