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A spot for slashers, zombies, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, aliens, demons, and other monsters.
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Blood Flow
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The title is pending on this one until I can come up with something better. I got the urge to write this one day, so I hope you all enjoy it. If responses/reviews are favorable, I may choose to continue it.
DISCLAIMER: I’m not really sure if this has a disclaimer. I don’t own Heather (she owns herself). This story was inspired through the genius of hundreds of horror films. GENRE: Horror RATING: PG-13/R for extreme gore and scary situation DEDICATION: To Heather, who else?! She is one awesome individual who single-handedly buries herself in this club and she works incredibly hard to make it a wonderful (or frightening, depending on how you look at it) place for horror lovers of all sorts and sizes to hang out. She recently confessed to me that she does not really care for reading, so I kept this short, just for her. If it catches her interest, I might continue it.
Heather stirred in her sleep. Something wet was dripping on her face. The drips kept falling and she struggled to wakefulness. Before opening her eyes, a drop hit her on lips and she exhaled harshly out of her mouth to keep the liquid from entering, but a tiny bit still made it into her mouth. The thick liquid was bitter and coppery in taste. Something was not right. She struggled to a sitting position, hitting a suspended object, as she opened her eyes to the room around her. It was very dimly lit, there being only one fluorescent light bulb hanging bare near a closed door off to one side of the room. Even sitting up, she could still feel the dripping sensation hitting her back now. Turning around and looking up, she sought the source of the liquid. What she saw horrified her beyond belief. A severed arm had been suspended above her unconscious body and, realizing now that it was blood that had entered her mouth, she spit several times all over the immediate area. She was about ready to wipe her mouth of on her shirt sleeve, but, looking down at her arms and torso and legs, she was alarmed to see blood everywhere. Even with the severed arm above her head, she sluggishly checked her own body for injuries. No injury graced her anywhere, for which she was grateful. So intensely had she been searching for injuries, that she had failed to notice the blood was still dripping down her back. Coming slowly back into her senses, she scrambled away from the arm to press her back tightly against the nearest wall. From this new angle, she finally had an unobstructed view of the entire room. The severed arm was now the least of her worries. She was in a room constructed of metal walls with only one equally metal door leading in and out. The solitary light bulb cast an eerie glow about the room that chilled her to the bone. The bulb from the door cast its eerie light over the graphic contents of the room. Severed body parts hung from chains hooked into the ceiling all over the room. Arms, legs, even a couple of torsos had somehow been effectively chained in the air. Casting her eyes to the floor, Heather was surprised that the blood flow on the floor was so minimal. That’s when she noticed two drainage pipes in the tile on the floor. Trying not to inhale the stench of the room too deeply, she did detect the slight odor of bleach. Whoever was responsible for this slaughterhouse must regularly clean the room by hosing it down with bleach and water. Shakily, she slowly got to her feet. She had to get out of here. Who knew what this psycho was capable of? Stumbling over to the door, she yanked on the handle. Not surprisingly, the door held fast. Yanking a couple of more times, she finally gave up. If she was getting out of there, it wouldn’t be thru the door. At least not at this time. Turning around, she leaned wearily against the door and surveyed the room in front of her. Trying hard, and not doing a very good job of it, she attempted to keep her eyes averted from the limbs hanging from the ceiling. The light above her head had started swaying when she had rushed up to the door and now the swaying light was creating mobile shadows throughout the room. Reaching up, she gripped the light and halted its swaying. Peering into the gloom, she tried, by force of will, to make her eyesight stretch to the opposite wall. No such luck. Keeping one hand on the wall, she slowly walked along it to the other end of the room. Twice she slipped and fell as her foot had lost traction over the slippery, bloody mess. She was not taking pains to keep herself clean. She was much more concerned with getting out of there alive. After what seemed like forever, she finally reached the other end of the room. Immediately, she wished she had stayed at the other end, near the light and the door to possible freedom. There was one long low metal table against this wall that stood about waist high. It was covered in blood, organs, a couple of bones and two human heads. Fighting the nausea welling up within her, she barely had time to register the scene in front of her when she heard a noise behind her. Someone was approaching the other side of the door. Frantically looking around for some place to hide, she dove under the table, paying no heed to the blood that was slowly and methodically dripping down the edge of the table and onto the floor. She may as well have stayed upright, for the footsteps bypassed the door and continued down the hall. Crawling out from under the table she looked around for anything that could help her escape. Too bad she didn’t know how to pick a lock, otherwise she could probably break one of the bones on the table to fashion a make-shift lock pick. The idea didn’t appeal to her, but if she didn’t figure out something soon, she would probably attempt to pick the lock. Looking towards the ceiling, she felt sickened by the horrific display above her, but she kept focused on her mission. She had to find a way out. Moving between the human stalactites, she kept her eyes glued upward. Towards the center of the room, she came across a chain that had nothing hooked up on it. Tugging gingerly on it, she tested the strength of the hook holding it in the ceiling. Feeling it move ever so slightly, she grabbed it with both hands and pulled it hard. Nothing happened. Twice more and still nothing. She was about ready to give up, but decided to pull one more time. With all of the strength she possessed, she wrapped the chain around her forearm and yanked down hard with both arms’ strength. The chain ripped clean of the ceiling and came to land at her feet with a loud grating sound. Picking the chain up off of the ground, she tested the weight in her hands. It was heavy, but she could handle it. Now all she had to do was wait. Wait for someone to come. Taking up her stance behind the door, she began the long, patient process. ~*~ An hour later, Heather had fallen into a light doze standing behind the door. The chain slowly fell from her hands and settled on the floor at her feet. She jerked herself awake and leaned down to pick up the chain. As she was standing back up, she heard footsteps outside of the door. Trying not to get her hopes up, she figured someone was just passing by. When the sound of a lock being turned echoed thru the room, she slipped into a crouching position and held the chain tightly in her hands. Slowly, the door opened in front of her… ~*~ Heather ran barefoot down the concrete corridors, each running step echoing thru the hallways around her. When the door had opened in her prison of a room, she had leapt upon the back of the figure and strung the length of chain around his throat. Holding on for dear life, for that was what she was fighting for, she choked the life out of the man. He struggled against her, naturally, but she had the advantage as she perched on his back, all of the strength she possessed flowing towards her shoulders and arms as she kept the chain pressed tightly against his neck. When he had finally fallen at her feet, she had felt so triumphant and yet so weary. Without waiting any longer then necessary, she had grabbed the chain and run out of the room. She had quickly found herself in a long, narrow corridor that immediately reminded her of a hospital out of horror movies. Regardless of the terror she was feeling, she had to laugh at the irony of her situation. She had always been a passionate fan of all things horror-related, especially horror movies, and now to find herself in this terrifying situation…it was just a horrible turn of fate. The corridor was of a concrete construction; floor, walls and ceiling. Heather took all this in, even as she was racing down the hallway. There was no doubt about it; this building, wherever it was, was maze-like in its construction. After the first couple of turns, Heather had to admit that she was lost. Lost in this slaughterhouse of horrors. © Copyright held by Becca85
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Join this Club
who single-handedly buries herself in this club
haha BURIES. :D Literally! I'm in this spot pretty much 24/7!
Anyway, I love it! Please continue it, I will definitely keep reading!!
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