(COMPLETED STORY) {WATTYS #2018} Mythical creatures you only hear about them in story books and see in movies, there is so many different versions of the same few creatures.
When you were little you believe they actually exist and as you grow up yo...
That's the first thing I can hear, the first thing I heard in the time I've been here. I lost track. Actually, I can't remember the last time I heard anything besides the overwhelming silence surrounding me, engulfing me, drowning me in its crushing entirety.
It's torture.
I hear them echoing, bouncing off the walls of the outside corridor, ricocheting against everything until I can't tell where they've originated from. They're coming closer. It's like a dream. What did I do to be graced with a break from the terrible silence?
What did I do to be cursed with what's going to happen next?
They stop, the ghosting whispers of the echoes fading abruptly. I wait in apprehension, desperate for release. I want to know what's next. On the other hand, maybe i really don't. The door suddenly opens, the door Ive forgotten about, I feel like I've been here so long. I quickly casts my eyes downward at the figure's entrance; i dont want to see his face. I can't bear it.
It's a shame I can't block out his voice.
"Look at me," he threatens, voice smooth, harsh and full of menace.
It's just too commanding, too powerful, and I can't resist. My head obediently tilts upward, my eyes flitting up to meet his. He looks down on me with contempt, lip curling at my submission, my inferiority, weakness, helplessness.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There's sinister laughter in his eyes, and my heart drops. He approaches, the door swinging slowly shut behind him, making sure to lock it, keeping his eyes locked on mine. There's a voice inside my head, begging him to stop, to keep away from me, to go back.
The door clicks shut, cutting off any imagined dream of escape, and my eyes flicker to the spot for a split second.
Big mistake.
My breathing speeds up and weightens as i feel my finger moving of its own accord, without my consent. It bends backwards, slowly, farther, farther, farther, too far, no, stop, stop, stop- It snaps, right before my eyes, filling my whole body with a dull, throbbing pain. It grows steadily, so it's only uncomfortable at first, then it's painful, to where it's so harsh and intense that I begin screaming.
Eventually the pain lessens, so that it's only a dull throbbing again. My chest heaves as I gasp for air and watch as my broken finger repairs itself, popping back into place with a mild jolt of pain that's absolutely nothing compared to what ive just experienced. Im on the verge of tears, but I won't cry. I can't cry. Not in front of him.
This time im careful to keep my eyes on his, making sure i don't blink. His hand is raised slightly in front of him, his fingers all drawing to a single point. His mouth is emotionless, a look of continued contempt, but his eyes dance with malice, a statement of his complete enjoyment of the situation, of his sick pleasure. He watches with superiority as i struggle to regain myself, to steal back my breath. And just as i do...
