A Story by k.d.

a story of my awful life

I was gasping for air now. I was running through the dark woods, my legs burning. Branches reached out to scratch me; my face, my legs, my arms, and fingers. My body was covered in red. Every inch was stinging with pain. I was begging myself to stop. Stop the agonizing pain. Rain was starting to fall, seeping into my cuts. Mixing with the red making pink. I started to scream. No, I couldn't scream not while he was after me. His name was Paul. His name was printed in all the newspapers. Paul was written as a cruel killer someone that no one should have trusted. People had crossed his path many times just to get themselves killed. The others that were with me wer tortured I was the only one left in the group that was still alive. My life is to be ended last. Paul was not merciless he dealt out pain and stories of murders that were too gruesome to listen to.
  Any minute now and I would be toast. I stifled my screams into wailing screeches inside my head. My feet were bare. They were covered in blood, pine needles on the earth had partial credit. The bigger, longer slashes was part of the tortue Paul had given us all. I always wondered why he had a foot fetish. It creeped out the whole group. Five days ago he had lured us all into his basement. With a loud groan, the door snapped shut. The floor opened up underneath us and dropped us in the crowding ditch. Rats came out of cages and crawled all over our legs, biting us and squeeling. A cover was laid over the top of the hole we were trapped in. For the next five hours all that I heard was the cries of my friends. I scooched to the corner and sat with my arms over my legs. My brain was working hard, my brain was pulsing against my skull. When light started to seep through we thought that it was all over. That someone had come to rescue us, but no. No one had come to rescue us at all. It was just the beginning.
  Paul and a few of his friends dragged us out of the hole and lined us up. Shoulder to shoulder, we were scared and tired. We were really tired.       

© 2010 k.d.

Advertise Here Advertise Here
Want to advertise here? Get started for as little as $5

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Added on January 2, 2010
Last Updated on January 2, 2010



Eau Claire, WI

I like to write. I play the piano. I play the trumpet. I play the french horn. more..

Broken Broken

A Poem by k.d.

Tears Tears

A Poem by k.d.

Funny Funny

A Story by k.d.