A story.

**So, basically, I've been sitting around with some of these story things that I have, and I haven't really been doing anything with them. I'm sort of hoping that by periodically releasing parts of it, I'll actually push myself into getting more done on them/it. Let me know what you all think. Here's part one of one of them.**




It took the hot river of piss running down my leg to make me realize I had thrown up.  My body fought itself, tensing and going limp; shaking. I struggled to keep myself upright. I stumbled back into the wall. I felt paint crumbling behind me.

My flashlight ran around the room, twitching, stopping to reassure me that we were alone. The paint flaked from the walls and lay like flecks of dandruff on the floor. The ceiling was a crossword puzzle of missing tiles.

I wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted to turn. I wanted to look away.

I couldn’t.

Sam had cut that poor bastard’s tongue out. I watched as he thrashed about. The rope around his body pinching his flesh, making it look like sausage. The blood was spraying from his mouth as he screamed, making me think of impulse sprinklers. His screams quickly turned to a frantic gurgling. He began kicking at the floor and knocked himself and the chair he was tied to over. The blood began to pool by his head.

    Sam turned and I saw the specks of blood on the front of his shirt. He was grinning. Drops of blood ran down his cheek into his thick caveman-like beard. He removed his glasses, bringing them near the bottom of his shirt. The blood smeared as he cleaned them, filling in the cracks around the lenses.



*To find the other parts of this story/some other stories, click on the tag "Story" near the bottom of this post.