Mortality

Burned Alive

                                                                                         3

 His skin was being pierced by a thousand knives, an unbearable icy sensation tearing at his nerves. Jonathan gave a scream of pure torment and struggled in vain against his bondings, metal chains which were searing him and slowly fusing with his forearms. The worst part was the sheer helplessness: Jonathan knew he was going to die. Even if he managed to cast off these fetters, he was immersed in fuel. The only uncertainty was the actual cause of death, be it heatstroke, shock, loss of blood or, most unpleasantly, thermal decomposition, whereby vital organs and body parts would be eliminated by the flames. Jonathan could not bear thinking about it. "WHY?" he cried in anguish at the unabashedly curious and interested figure silently watching him expire.

 The spectator remained silent, but shifted in its seat slightly, perhaps convinced of a quick death, and not wanting to miss it. Jonathan vociferated, bellowing at his captor, abusing and insulting him, then pleading, appealing to his better nature. A low moan escaped Jonathan's lips as he watched his flesh bubble and swell grotesquely.

 "Please." he croaked, in a low, desperate tone.

 "PLEASE!" he yelled, as a throb from his injured knee coincided with a tongue of flame licking his thigh. He thrashed against the chains binding his hands and feet together, then sank gratefully once more into unconsciousness.

 Jonathan awoke on a smooth and gloriously cold porcelain surface. He took several deep breaths of unpolluted air and contemplated his last waking moments. Jonathan had never really believed in an afterlife, but surely he was dead now? Yet he could see, he could feel and gain knowledge of his environment. Taking a look at his body, Jonathan was surprised that he still bore marks of his torture, such as deep welts from the shackles with which he had been confined, but most of his skin had a pinkish tinge which implied having recently healed. He even felt regenerated.

 Feeling confident and wishing to explore his abilities anew, Jonathan sat up and realised he was in a bathtub. Attempting to climb out, he was horrified to find himself tethered to the wall against which the bath rested. A sickening feeling descended on his innards as he realised who must have put him here, and wondering what next he would have to endure. He was saved of speculation as a masked individual entered his prison. Jonathan became acutely aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing any clothes. Fortunately, this was remedied when he was tossed a pair of shorts. As he scrambled to don them, he was immediately pounced upon and subdued. 

  His head hit the porcelain with a painful thump, but his suffering was not over. Jonathan's attacker set about tying his limbs to each of the bathtub's four legs, stretching them excruciatingly. The merciless savage then proceeded to fill the bath with water, forcing Jonathan's head down as he registered his impending torture: he had always been terrified of drowning.

 "No, no, no, please, no, you can't do this, please, STO"- the rest of his words were lost under a torrent of bubbles.