Shock

28 May 2010

He lay staring up at the ceiling, heart pounding, and yet he didn’t move an inch. He kept his mouth shut and refrained from shifting a finger from under the blanket. He was too scared to fall asleep. It wasn’t safe. He had to get out somewhere but he was as still as a statue. He wondered if he’d been in shock yet. Maybe this was shock. That or just complete terror. The second option was likely. How did he get himself into this mess? He wanted to cry, but that would involve moving. He shut his eyes briefly for a moment, exhausted, but opened them again abruptly. He would not fall asleep.

[113 words]

One Package

Terrier rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He had been awake over twenty-four hours. He was so tired, but he couldn't sleep. He had work to do. And if he was caught slopping off, he'd quickly find himself awake anyway. He turned to the bathroom sink, and splashed water onto his face before heading out. He almost tripped over the package that had been left at the door. He stared at it warily, wondering whether he really wanted to know what was inside. After a moment, he decided he did. He picked it up. Despite the size of the box, it was as light as a feather. He frowned, before wedging the tag open and peering inside. It contained just one photograph. A photograph which made him drop the box instantly and fall to the ground in shock. Shock, terror and anger. But most importantly worry. And it was all his fault.

[153 words]

Fear For His Life

The boy stirred slightly, and people began pointing excitedly. He shifted slightly, curling up in a corner as he tried to keep his eyes shut. Why he was lying on a cold floor and not in his nice, warm bed, he had no idea. He heard what he thought was snickering coming from nearby, and regretfully he opened one groggy eye. He was staring at some sort of cage. He slowly blinked a few times, staying completely still. Yes, cage was the right word. Except he was inside it. He froze, as he tried to remember what had happened. He had been at Jesse's party, that was all. Might've had a drink...

He sat bolt upright, hitting his head on the roof of the crate. No. He hadn't finished his drink. He'd left it in a trash can at the train station when that weird guy had approached him. He'd call triple zero, he could remember that much. But everything from there was a blur. He was thrown into a car and ... he couldn't remember what had happened after that.

He let a breath escape his mouth as he realised he was cold, shivering. Looking down, he realised his shirt was ripped and had a small amount of blood on it. His eyes adjusted as he began to wonder exactly where he was. He crawled forwards, almost putting his hand in a bowl of water he hadn't noticed before.

"The dog's awake!" he heard someone yell, causing him to crawl back to his corner in fright. A dog crate, that's what this was. He tried to control his quickened breathing, as he peered out of the peep holes. He could see the legs of many men standing around, and almost screamed when someone crouched down to peer back at him. He shook with absolute terror.

"Terrier," his head spun to another voice. Someone was peering at him through the caged door, "You must be thirsty. Drink up."

The teenager stayed huddled in his corner. He was thirsty, but he was not a dog. He sat quietly shivering inside the crate, much happier to only be seeing the majority of people's shoes, and not their faces. Who were they and what they wanted with him, he didn't want to find out. This just had to be some bizarre dream, and he wanted out. He tried blinking himself awake, but the more he tried, the more he realised with horror that this was real. Heck, he should've stayed at that party.

"Doggie, doggie, doggie..."

He squeezed his eyes shut and crumbled into a ball of complete fear.

[436 words]

Terror

This one's kind of weird and creepy. Sorry bout that. It was almost entirely based on a dream I had the other night, cept the dialogue. Although the last line at the end certainly was. In the dream, I was trying to say something that started with 'var' or 'ver', but I don't know what it was. Funnily enough, I didn't seem to be scared in the dream, nor when I woke up. So it wasn't the kind of nightmare you'd expect...

We all sat, holding onto our lives as the train stood motionless on the tracks. This was a full carriage, full of innocents, full of hostages, and just two men stood walking backwards and forwards. I sank lower in my seat, fidgeting with the ties upon my hands. Whoever these men were, they had come prepared. There was not one of us passengers left that didn't have our wrists tied by rope or cuffs. None of us dared to breathe a word as they guarded their posts. We could see the police outside, no doubt trying to devise plans to get us out of there alive. My hair fell across my face, as I went by unnoticed, as did many of us quiet ones. I did however, have a knack for detail, and the man sitting a few rows in front passing along a screw behind him did not go unnoticed by me. If they were all cutting their restriants free, they had to be careful. If our captors caught sight of it . . .

Too late. The one with the rifle swung around his chest turned just as a woman up front was accepting the passing screw. He hit her across the face, and she screamed, tears streaming down her face. He bent slightly to pick up the fallen screw. He held it up to us all, spinning it swiftly in his fingers.

"Whose bright idea was this?"

I stared around the carriage, full of men and woman, middle aged, elderly, even a young mum. We all held our breaths.

"Don't make me repeat the question."

A young kid at the very front of the carriage stood, his wrists free of his cuffs.

"You?"

"Aye."

The guy lifted his rifle. I saw a pair of hands grab it and pull it upwards and before I knew it, everyone around me was scrambling for the doors. Some, like me, still tied up. Others from the front free of movement. I was shoved forwards amongst the hostages bursting for the door and I saw the second captor pull out a knife and strike the nearest person within reach, just when we heard the first gunshot go off. Everyone ducked, beginning to edge back to their seats. I stood swaying in the aisle. I ambled forward to the nearest handle grip, but my fingers slipped and I fell to the floor, my face beside someone's shoe as I realised that I was the one who'd been shot. The bullet stung my back as I fought to keep consciousness.

"Now you understand what happens."

I felt him slam his foot onto my back, boot across my shoulder blades. Stay alive, I thought, stay alive. I heard the train doors open and felt a welcome fresh breeze play with my hair as my breathing slowed, my eyes drooped. I became aware that I couldn't move my body, and yet, I was alive and hearing.

"Your first body!" I heard a voice somewhere above me yell, and I was dragged forwards. I felt the floor beneath me disappear as I fell, about a metre, to the ground. The doors slammed shut again. The police stood hestiant, watching my unmoving body, before someone came forwards to check for my breathing.

"She's dead." the person announced grimly. No, no I wasn't. I could still feel the pain. I tried to open my eyes, but it just wouldn't work. So I tried to use my voice instead.

"Var . . . ver . . . ver . . ."

I knew then I was going to be okay. I just hoped the rest of the hostages would be, too.

[612 words]