In the dark night of November the trees swayed in a blinded trance, the streets were a sea of neon lights that flared and illuminated the sidewalk in inky splashes of colours–anyone who passed would immediately find themselves caught in a daze of their own–The city was a vast figure taking form of a pursuing beast readying itself to hypnotize its newcomers, yearning a want and need for tribulation. It distracted them with signs and places where they could pass the time before it would present its grand finale, a bloodshed. The shrieks that haunted in those obscure and hollow alleys always encouraged more.
In the night the streets called its prey through the darkening alleys. Cars nowhere to be seen, all asleep in their shelters. The people, as well, safe, in their home locked and enclosed hoping that they will make it through the twilight. It was in the dark when the Reapers–a gang–took control of the streets, they were the ones who fed the bloodthirsty streets, the night was their kingdom, a queen, and king to command them all. The gang was responsible for the sounds of solitude and desolation but that was what they treasured the most. The sound of dead silence, anyone who disturbed it would face a danger that would only be known to them. The Reapers were the ones who roamed the untamed streets and took the unfortunate souls that staggered the Earth at the wrong place and time.
In the light of day, the city was a wondrous place where people young and old could find entertainment of any kind. Restaurants and attractions were open but only until the clock struck late and began to warn the people it was time. At times, it felt like time was simply slipping away from their grasp. But they knew they had to keep safe and right away the doors and windows would be locked.
The Reapers owned the streets they made it clear from the first day of their appearance. Most have been caught and–like the ghost stories–never made it back. In reality, it isn't truthfully known what happens to those who get caught but as humans, the inhabitant imagined the worse.
Sadly for me, I found out.
They laughed and smirked at the sight of me. Well anyone really. Who or what is one to think of a skinny, frail boy? A homeless boy?
"Ey, Pat, check it. It's a little boy here. He forgot to run back to his momma!" One of them chuckled and began to prod me with his fingers. I did not stir.
"Look, you moron. He has no darn mother. He's a tramp!" Pat spat. "He is all skin n' bones!"
"Even better. . ." a woman joined from behind. "He won't be missed. . ."
"Hey, Eva! Want to do the honors tonight?"
She smirked and kicked me to the ground with a hostile strength. I, being as weak and as thin as they said did the only thing I thought of at the moment, I got up again and began to run away.
I ran and ran, nothing stopping me from going on. There was the sound of an object breaking the air around it and then a needle-like pain was felt on my heel. I looked to see a dart, a tranquilizer I presumed. On to the dark disgusting floor, I tumbled again.
When I woke my arms were being held back and my mouth wrapped in a piece of fabric. I could not move. I turn around and an impassive stare returns to look back.
"He's awake now"
Immediately I felt fright and tried to search for the sign of any kind of weaponry that would be used. I saw none. Eva came back with a small hunting knife.
It's all over, I reasoned. I was wrong, she leaned in close and removed the fabric from my mouth. They all smiled, Pat, Eva, and many more surrounded me now, with nothing alarming except their bare hands.
"All right you know the drill, into four groups." Eva swept the air in front of her and then took her small knife and released me. She took hold of my right arm quickly and the others followed. They held my left arm, leg, and right leg. There were three on each of my limbs and then the most painful string of horrors unleashed before me.
The pain was undeniable, I felt the jolt of my joints trying to keep together but I was not ready for what followed. There in the empty streets like animals, they pulled and tugged at my limbs as if I was a rag. Blood began to sprout from my left arm where my shoulders join the start of my arm.
I heard a chilling wail, a horrid cunning call. It was mine. At that moment, my arm went loose and the red fluids splashed all across the bricked roads. Dirt and blood mixed together creating a rich, thick, sickening hue. A sonorous laughter left the inhumane crowd that surrounded me. It takes long for the rest of my limbs to follow the same path.
The more I moved the more it spilled.
The more I yelled the better they humored.
As if that wasn't enough, they all tried to get a good look at me. They threw my arms and legs aside. It was my head, my head was next. Decapitation was their next move, I realized.
Eva grabbed my lower jaw and with her tiny knife, she swiftly began to make small, clean cuts below my neck.
"There, to help. Now getting his head free will be no trouble." She gleamed and told the others to help. Suddenly my head was the most precious subject and everyone tried to somehow take hold of it.
It was quick yet slow. I could feel my skin ripping and tearing into smaller pieces. My vision blurred, I felt as if I was flying as air flushed pass me. With one last noise shattering sound of infliction, my head hung in Eva's possession.
"It will be thirty seconds until he will be totally unconscious," Pat shouted with pride.
Another woman grabbed a rope and gave it to Eva. Eva took it and struck the final blow, a fisheye nail was hammered into my skull and with the rope, they knotted it. My time was done.
Eva's hands were filled with the vivid colors of murky red. The color was caked in every corner of the area as they trailed to hang the head at Wellington Street, right next to the traffic light.
The arms and legs were placed elsewhere where the people could see.
"Don't forget the others!" A man from the group shouted. Someone before him remembered and opened a bag of limbs. "Alright then, let's decorated!"
The bodies of people hung in the streets to adore. The Reapers are riding into the town with their ruthless rule, the blood of the innocent is spilled freely while they sit on their thrones with no mercy they smile and hooted their daily hunt.
YOU ARE READING
Short Original Horror Stories
Horror"With time I learned a thing or two. Do you know what's it like to have a secret desire to kill? There was ten of them, to begin with. Every single one of them was loud and wouldn't shut up. I guess they were excited. You know?" - (Story #3:) There...
