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Tortured To Death
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Tortured To Death
my newest addtion to my short stories, i have yet to come up with an ending so if you have any suggestions that would be great. The Story is about a man that just wont talk... Hope you enjoy
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The Way Things Are (Short Stories) a story I wrote recently about how my life is at the moment, and how it was in the past. It is a little random... really random, but that is how my life is. [452 words] [Mind]
Tortured To Death
My eyes were blindfolded but I could still hear voices around me. I thought I could smell burning flesh in the air, and singed hair. I didn’t know where I was but I had an unpleasant feeling it isn’t a place you want to be. I tried to speak; but all that I could do was moan. I tried to move, my arms and legs were bound. At some point a man came over and tore the blindfold off my face with such ferocity that I thought he might have taken some of my hair.
I blinked once or twice to block out the blinding light and slowly my eyes adjusted. I could see three men, all wearing what looked like military uniforms. One man in particular was much bigger then the other two and I knew right away he was the man that tore off my blindfold; he had a look on his face that suggested he was always pissed off. The other two were average height.
The two men turned their attention to me. One of them was wearing rubber gloves and holding two metal prongs with wires running from the bottom of them up to some metal box with dials and switches on it. The other guy didn’t have rubber gloves on; he did however have a lab coat on. He must be some sort of doctor. The man with the lab coat turned away from me and flipped a switch on the metal box. The two metal prongs in rubber glove man’s hands started to spark. The lab coat came towards me. He must have been in charge of both of these guys. He looked at me and said.
“I am going to ask a few questions, I want them answered truthfully so we can all get out of here and leave unharmed and happy.”
He was the type of man that was very full of him self, I could tell by the way he talked. It sounded like a clamp was stuck on the end of his nose. He stood there looking at me with squinted eyes waiting for me to answer.
“I don’t know how I can help you, I'm just a solider, doing what I’m told, and what I’m told is very little.” I tried to sound as innocent and naïve as possible.
He stared at me for what seemed like an eternity and finally said something to me.
“You are lying…” he looked at the rubber glove man and beckoned him over.
At this point it felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I knew that this was going to be painful The smell in the air told me so. The rubber glove man was getting closer to me; I tried to wrap myself around the pole as much as I could. I was doing anything to get away from those metal rods. I screamed for mercy I screamed for help. No one answered my call, I was alone.
As those metal rods touched my chest I felt a red hot searing pain in my heart. The pain worked its way up to my head and by then I was biting down on my tongue so hard that blood was trickling down my face. It felt as if my brain were on fire then all at once it stopped.
“Do you have anything to say now?” the lab coat man seemed to be enjoying this too much.
I looked up at him with dazed eyes. I tried to speak through my bleeding mouth, and most of what I said sounded gargled.
“What was that? I can’t understand.”
This time when I spoke it was clearer, “go fuck yourself.”
“Apparently this man needs a lesson in his manners.” The lab coat man snapped his fingers and the big goon proceeded towards me with a look of determination in his eyes.
The goon punched me in the nose and I felt the cartilage snap. Blood began to pour out of my nose like a river. He punched me in the eye, and immediately I couldn’t see out of it. He punched me in the mouth, and I felt a tooth give way to this brute’s power. I spit up blood as if it were hot coffee. When the beating was done, I could see the goon out of my good eye in the corner smiling at me. The lab coat man again asked if I wanted to talk.
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"What is the purpose of this? Why waste everone's time posting something unfinished. I think you've been watching too much prime time media obsessed with exaggerating tales of prisoner abuse. Grow up. " -- Lester.
"I agree with lester" -- Todd.
"I liked it myself; as a published writer, I have often submitted an unfinished story for opinions. Dont lisetn to these guys; it is good. Want some help? I will be glad to. Send me your emaila add and I will go from there." -- vince o'neal.
"By all means, listen to Mr. O'neil, the published writer. Don't you know that in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. How sad to see what this site has become. " -- Lester.
"Wow lester, at first i thought nothing of you. You have realy proven to me that you have no life. Tell me, is the weather nicer up there, higher then the rest of us? You tell me to grow up... thats funny coming from a man or whatever the hell you are, who goes online following up on someones writing talking shit. get a life. I know you will have some wity comeback in a couple of days or possibly as you were reading this comment you were correcting the spelling errors and were possibly thinking about touching on that subject in your next hate comment. Till next Fuck you lester." -- Corey mutha freakin moon.
"And here we have Corey, another wanna-be who likes to play in the sand box with his other talentless friends where they can delude themselves with compliments about each other's work. None of you can take any form of criticism without pouting like childish, spoiled fucking brats who are still trying to figure out their sexual orientation. " -- Lester.
"CRITICISM!?!?! is that what they call it? i thought that was just talking shit? and please i dont give a shit about what people say, you could talk crap about my stories all you want, and it wont offend me in anyway. What does offend me however is that someone like you can think of nothing better to do but go around and talk shit. and if i were to pout as you say, i wouldnt pout to a low-life like you, your nothing to me. Where did the sexual orientaion come from? could you think of nothing better to say? Wow, like i have never been called gay before... i dont think i have to even tell you what my sexual orientation is. really though lester, i dont know if you get off on telling people they suck, and to tell you the truth i dont care, but really, lets be adults here. FUCK OFF YOU LOSER! GET A LIFE!" -- Corey Moon.
"I'm acquainted with Lester, who used to teach English literature. He is frustrated by the quality of writing on this site. He may be a little harsh but I can agree with most of what he says. I don't think writers should clutter up this venue with unfinished work, expecting it to be edited and improved by others. The trouble is that there are too many very young writers who jump into writing (mostly copycat writing) before they've begun to pay their dues by READING quality English and American literature like the classics, and other significant writers like O'Henry, H.P. Lovecraft, Ambrose Bierce, to name a few. Reading Harry Potter and goose bumps are not going to help you appreciate quality writing. This is my example of constructive criticism. Take it or leave it. " -- Richard.
"Persoanlly, i dont give a damn, i dont care if this lester is the smartest man alive, i dont care if my story is unfinished, i dont care. But what i do care about is idiots who have nothing better to do but make other people feel like shit because they feel like shit. richards "constructive critism" is more constructive then i qoute "grow up". i honestly dont care anymore, talk all the shit you want say i read goosebumps or whatever the fuck i dont post on here anymore, I dont give a shit. i personally love reading. it might not be up to your standards but why would i want to be up there with on the snobs who think they are better then every one else? I know im not a good writer, but thats why i practice. If i couldnt come up with an ending and asked for a different view on the story then it shouldnt bother you and if does find a new site to talk shit on, becasue im sick of seeing the name lester on all my stories. if lester is frustrated by the quality of writing on this site then again, find a new one. i'm done with you losers, i take your critism and leave you with a fuck off." -- Corey Moon.
"I can't imagine why anyone would want to review the work of someone who's standard reaction to any form of criticism is "fuck off."" -- Shelly .
"To Lester, Todd & Richard (or is that Dick?) Are youse guys a bunch of whut Ah lak ta call them there yew-nik writers? You know, they know whut it iz, they know how it's done, maybe even witnessed it being done, yet lack the equipment and ability to actually do it themselves. Why don't youse cats show dumb ass Corey how it's supposed ta be dun? Hmm? How bout you experts write the perfect short story so we dumb ignorant, uneducated bastards out here can learn from the best. Give us that exemplary example of writing that Ah'm shore only you can. Okay? We'll be a' lookin fer it! To Corey, The story is okay, but I didn't especially enjoy reading it because of the subject. You write well but a little on the "trite and true side". Let me say, however, that you can probably earn a living with writing such as this. I have been earning a very good living as a free-lance writer for over twenty-five years, publishing for another ten. Don't buy into the bullshit you have read from these losers; they haven't a clue. And, apparently, no meaningful lives. As a writer, you need to be able to withstand the criticism from almost every direction. I have found, and these wussies prove, that the less a person knows about a subject, the harsher the criticism. These little minds know even less. Continue with your craft, for craft it is. Good luck. " -- Jerry Ison, Talbott, TN, USA.
"Listen to the man who calls these critics losers. The lefty from Talbott, none other than Jerry Ison. He says he's made a good living as a free lance writer. I heard he spent more time driving a taxicab than writing and probably made more money driving. Another real fraud, like so many others who visit this site now and then. Hey Ison, tell us about your published works. " -- Joey Tillman, Nashville, TN.
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© 2007 Corey Moon
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