I roll my shoulder and rub the ointment onto my skin, my sore muscles go from hot to cold as the chemicals take effect.

I sit on the edge of my bed shirtless, working the medicine into my skin and feeling the tingle travel over the spot. Then I hear it, it's a distant sound, but all too clear, just out my window I hear the sound of rattling chains.

A bead of sweat appears on my forehead as the sound jumps around my room, bounding off of the walls and into my ear canal and beating against my eardrums.

I stand from my bed and move to the window pulling the curtains open.

My neighbor stands on his porch sipping a cup of what I can only assume is coffee, newspaper tucked under one arm. He raises the other and gives a weak wave, I can see the bags under his eyes even from where I am and the groggy almost drunken wave he gives me lets me know that Bob is not a morning person.

I wave back nervously, I can hear the chains but I can't see them, they sound almost like they are coming from the inside of Bob's house, but from his reaction, I know that he can't hear them.

Though as cars drive past my window and Bob walks into his house, over the sound of wind blowing and birds chirping, I can still hear the chains.

I pull the curtains closed, my eyes shut with them, shake my head, and count to five.

I take a deep breath and as I exhale the sounds of the chains slowly fade away.

I'd been hearing them for a few weeks now, the chains.

The maddening rattle, of steel on steel. It started off subtle at first, as I drove home from work, maybe I'd hear the clink of metal, but it became more common over the weeks though it was still sporadic. I'd even had my car taken into the shop to be inspected, besides needing an oil change and one of my back tail lights that had been damaged, the mechanic told me my car was in perfect condition.

But now it was clockwork, like an alarm clock I'd wake up to the sound.

I breathed a sigh as I got ready for work. Hopping into my car I flipped on the radio. Some new song that they had been playing on a loop for the past week and a half spun up and I grumbled at the annoying pop tune, switching to another station.

Classical music started playing, I wasn't one to usually go for classical- I was personally more of an R&B Guy, call me a romantic - but the melody of the symphony did have a calming effect. I move my head to the rhythm letting the stringed instruments take me away on a journey, away from the stresses of the previous weeks. Music really was a type of magic.

The drums thumped along, complementing the overall tune.

The trumpets and trombones blasted their sounds, it was exquisite, maybe I could get into classical, I thought.

Then the rhythm changed, the stringed instruments came out of synch, and the drums picked up their pace even as someone who wasn't familiar with the genre I could tell that it wasn't quite the right tempo. The trumpets let out a long sustained blast, the trumpeters holding the note for what felt like minutes on end.

I looked at the radio, taking a hand off the steering wheel, I reached for the dial, and I changed the station but the cacophony of noise continued. I tried to turn it down. I could see the volume indicator drop to zero, but the noise actually got louder, then I heard it, behind the trumpets, drums, harps, and symbols, I heard the chains.

They rattled along to their own unsynchronized tune, I stabbed at my radio frantically and prayed for the noise to end, the noise of the chains almost sounded like a metallic laugh, mocking my attempt.

An equally loud horn blasted over the speakers, louder even than the chains, then I realized that the horn wasn't on the radio, I swerved as I blasted through an intersection, nearly missing a minivan, I sped past as a woman leaned out of the driver side window cursing at me, her child in the back looking at me from his booster seat.

I white knuckled the steering wheel, breathing hard and feeling lightheaded at the sudden rise of my pulse, the radio when silent, one instrument after the other cutting out, the last sound over the radio being the mocking faux laughter of the chains.

I pulled into my works parking lot, parked my car, and went into the building, fixing my tie and wiping the sweat from my brow as I walked through the lobby.

"Oh hi, Ezekiel," Janice the kindly middle-aged secretary said from behind her desk, She was the only person at the office to call me by my full name, but it was in a motherly way.

"Are you okay sweetie, you look a little flushed?" She asked concern covering her plump face.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine Janice, just a wild ride here, people can be pretty crazy on the road," I said, getting my breathing under control.

"Don't I know it, you know Harry and I almost got into a car accident on our first date. Some crazy person blasting through an intersection, I swear, it was like he had no concern for his life, gave me quite the fright, but my Harry calmed me right down, that's when I knew he was the one." She said the last bit and I could see she was reliving the memory of her and her recently passed husband, a mix of sadness at her loss and happiness at what she'd had flushing through her rosy cheeks.

"From the brief moments I met Harry, he seemed like a great guy, remember if you ever need to talk I'm here for you." I really did mean it, I'd only met Harry about three or four times when he had come to pick up Janice and he was a great guy, and Janice was like the company mother, there for everyone if you needed to talk, though my current situation was one I kept to myself.

"Oh that's fine darlin', but thanks, you run along now, I don't want you bein' late."

I gave Janice a smile and a wave and went into the elevator.

I rode the elevator up, the mediocre music giving me flashbacks to my incident on the drive here, thankfully I made it through without any issues.

I walked into my office, sat at my desk, and began my work.

The hours slipped by seamlessly as I clicked away at my keyboard, going into the zone was easy as I worked and it was something to take my mind off of the chains.

I was interrupted just as I was about to send an email, as I heard the door to my office open and my name was called.

"Zeek my man, you trying to get some lunch with Marty and me?"

In the door stood, Jackson, tailored pressed suit, fitting snugly to his form and a money-making smile plastered on his face.

I checked the time and was stunned to see how many hours had passed, the grumble in my stomach that I just started to feel let me know that the time really had flown by.

"Yeah, I can eat." I said, sending the email and collecting the few things I needed.

"Great let's go, I can really go for one of those sandwiches that the coffee shop makes."

In minutes, Marty, Jackson, and I were walking down the street to the coffee shop.

The three of us froze as we walked inside, the line that stretched from the counter to the back of the store stupifying us. I could see the girl behind the counter, with her apron on, moving as fast as she could to keep up with the onslaught of customers.

"I know that this placed really pulls in a crowd but this is ridiculous," Jackson said in exasperation.

"I know right, why haven't they hired a new girl yet, what are they waiting for? The last one isn't coming back." Marty said in an agitated tone.

"C'mon man I really don't feel like waiting in this line, let's just go somewhere else." I offered.

"Yeah, let's go, there's a burger spot down the road anyway." Jackson said in a defeated tone, seeming like his day had been ruined since he hadn't gotten the sandwich that he wanted.

We walked down the street to the burger spot and in minutes we were sat, burgers in front of us and chowing down.

"Man this is good, this should be our new spot." Marty said with a satisfied sigh.

"I don't know," Jackson began, "it's just not the same as the sandwiches the coffee place makes."

"Yeah you say that, but I've seen pigs eat with more restraint than you have with that burger." I laughed.

"Hey, I didn't say it was bad, it's just not the same," Jackson said taking another massive bite.

I laughed and took my own huge bite of my burger, it really was good, I stopped though when my teeth hit something and I felt a crack and a shot of pain rip through my mouth. I spat out the chunk of burger holding my hand over my mouth.

I heard a thunk as the burger hit the table, my mouth was bleeding, saliva and blood pooling behind the hand I had over my mouth, some of it seeping through my fingers.

I looked down at the table, where my discarded bit of burger had fallen, in horror my eyes widened, a mix of blood and spit fell from my mouth and onto my shirt as I moved my hand and picked up the heavy silver chain link that was in between my food, I looked at it in stunned horror, the metal zero shaped object looking back up at me, like a steel-plated eye.

My mouth continued to bleed and I could feel the piece of chipped tooth rolling around on my tongue as I held up the piece of metal in disbelief.

"Hey Zeek, what's wrong?" Jackson asked.

I pulled my eyes from the single chain link and looked and my coworkers. Marty and Jackson stared at me, puzzled looks on both their faces.

I nearly screamed as I looked at them, they both held a line of chains in their hands like there were spare ribs, they chowed down on the pieces of metal, and I could hear their teeth shattering on the rough metal.

They chewed away, looking at me as if I was the weird one here, I faintly noticed as the rattling of chains began, Marty took another bite of his chain, and as he opened his mouth pieces of metal and teeth fell onto the table striking his plate making a sound like coins hitting glass.

I stood from the table, the chair falling back and hitting the floor, heart rate skyrocketing, my own bleeding pained mouth forgotten. Other patrons looked at me quizzically at the sudden noise. My head swiveled around the room looking back at the other people, they all had bleeding mouths, pieces of chain clutched in their hands.

A little boy with blood running from his mouth tapped his father on the shoulder and pointed at me laughing at my display.

I rushed out of the restaurant, sweat needing down my face and a panic attack building up inside me, as the rattling of the chains got louder.

As I pushed, the door open and ran out into the open air I ran into another person just as they were reaching for the door, I stumbled falling off to the side as my panicked mind and unbalanced steps made me fall onto my back.

The large man looked down at me, unmoved at my having run into him. "Weirdo." he said in a gruff annoyed voice.

I sat there on the ground panting, as Jackson and Marty made their way out of the door, both of them having to wait for the bulky man to enter first.

They stooped down next to me. I looked at their mouths as they spoke, there was no blood, and their teeth were back to the sparkling white they had always been.

"Hey Zeek," I flinched at the sound of my name, still trying to come back to reality.

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"You alright man?" Marty asked.

"C'mon, help me get him up," Jackson said, as he grabbed one of my arms. Marty followed suit grabbing the other and they hoisted me to my feet.

"What was that?" Jackson asked concern etched on his face.

"I- I-" I stammered, "I just had a crazy daydream I think, more of a nightmare actually." I awkwardly laughed.

"You gotta stop taking those long hours man." Marty said, helping me dust my shirt off.

"Yeah, you're probably right," I looked over their shoulder back into the restaurant, most of the patrons were still looking out of the windows at us, but some had gone back to eating already, my freakout was apparently not the craziest thing they had already seen. All of them were back to normal, burgers and fries in hand munching away, with no blood, and no broken teeth.

"I think, you should call today quits and go home early." Jackson said.

"I think you're probably right." I was still shaken up, and I could still hear the faint sound of the chains, and I was still embarrassed at having lost it in front of all those people, I just wanted to go home and sleep.

Marty paid for the meal as Jackson waited outside with me, I could catch the concerned looks he gave me out of the corner of my eye.

In a few minutes we were back to work, I told my boss that I needed to leave early, and he was more than happy to let me leave, my exemplary record giving him no reason to question me as to why. I waved goodbye to Marty and Jackson and a few other coworkers and gave Janice a fake answer as to why I was leaving early when she asked and was out the door and on the road in minutes.

The ride home was uneventful, thankfully. And as I pulled into my driveway and made my way inside I practically collapsed, as I made it to my bedroom.

My head hit my pillow and I was out in seconds.

I opened my eyes a few hours later, my room was dark, my opened window only letting in the dim light of the moon. I knew that my sleep schedule would suffer for my midday nap. I tossed and turned for fifteen minutes trying, and failing to attain sleep again.

But it illuded me, like a dog trying to catch his tail. I gave up and went downstairs to get something to eat, my mind still on the events at the burger joint.

Poring the milk into my bowl and grabbing my favorite cereal I took a seat at my table. It was arduous to make my way through the meal, every time that it would take up another spoonful, I couldn’t help but take a second to inspect it, just to make sure that there were no errant pieces of chain in my spoon waiting to smash my teeth.

I nearly had a heart attack when my teeth scrapped against my spoon and I ended up spitting the contents out on the table and knocking over the bowl. I spent the next minute feeling like a fool as I cleaned up the sugary mess.

Though I could not fall asleep, fatigue weighed on me heavily. Stress and anxiety plagued my weary mind. Just the thought of another incident with the chains threatened to send me into a spiral, the maddening sound they made, the cold rigidity, I couldn’t take it.

I moved from the table, mess finally cleaned, and walked to the living room I needed to take my mind off of things. As I walked past my basement steps, I heard them again. The chains at the bottom of the basement stairs. It sounded like a heavy clump of them were being dragged across the floor down there, I stood frozen looking at the door too afraid to open it.

Then I heard the stairs creak, a heavy mass of chains landing on the bottom step. I stumbled back from the sound. “This isn’t real.” I said in a shaky voice trying to calm myself.

Up another step, and the sound of the chains was as loud as the thumping of my heart in my chest.

I scrambled up from the floor and ran to the living room. I clamped my hands over my ears, chanting my newfound mantra, “This isn’t real! This isn’t real!

I sat down in front of the tv, sinking into my leather couch, I could hear it squelch as my now sweat-drenched body settled into it.

Grabbing the remote like it owed me money, I stabbed franticly at the buttons. The news came on, the last channel I had on, and I cranked the volume to the max.

A single male news reporter spoke, he sat behind a desk, his lower half concealed. His hair was perfectly combed, and his suit was nice. I forced my eyes to focus on him, trying to pull my attention away from the almost deafening sound of the chains coming from the basement.

“Well, folks it seems Ms. Bridges’s cat was in her house all along. Now just after these short messages, we’ll be back as the search continues for-” Static flicked across the TV cutting off the reported mid-sentence, then the image came back. “Well be right back.”

The man sat silent and it was those few seconds of dead air right before a commercial break. But the seconds continued on, I sat in my now moist couch, staring at the reporter as he gazed into the camera, seemingly frozen.

It was awkward, him just looking at me, but the awkwardness quickly turned into unnerving as half a minute went by and he still stared into the camera, as if looking at me, his wide porcelain smile spread across his face.

I couldn’t move, my nerves were screaming at me, sweat ran down my brow in heavy rivulets. I tried to look away, trying to pull my eyes from the smiling man. His eyes followed mine. My heart sank, he was watching me.

My heart lept into my throat when he suddenly spoke. “In other news, well be expecting the heavy thrashing of steel chains for the foreseeable future.” He still spoke in that happy tone news reporters spoke in, a smile still plastered on his face. “You will never know a moment's piece. Hell Zeke, if you thought it was bad before, it’s. Just. Getting. started. “ He punctuated the words one at a time. Cold fear rolled up my spine, it was so strong my teeth actually started to chatter.

Then I felt it, cold steel slapped over my wrists. I looked down to see a line of chain had ripped itself right out of my couch and wound itself around my wrists. I screamed, I hadn’t even heard the chains or felt them until now. I tried to stand, but more chains lept out of the cushion, tearing the leather into ragged pieces, coiling around my midsection and legs.

“Now where do you think you're going Zeke, you’re night is just getting started.” His chipper tone was horrifying, And I wailed in agony as the chains pulled me back into the couch, wrapping tighter around my wrists, stomach, and legs. I grit my teeth as the chains wound tighter and tighter, over the sound of the buzzing of the chains in my ears, I could hear my ribs creak from the pressure.

“Now that you’re all snug and comfortable, the fun can begin, get ready Zeke.” The reporter said, then he started to take off his suit coat, then his white shirt that was underneath, leaving him bare-chested.

Eyes wide, I watched as his skin started to ripple and stretch, he stood from behind the desk and the camera panned up to follow him, then it tracked him as he moved around the table to stand fully in frame. The reported twitched and jerked as his skin changed color from the writhing mass that was under his skin.

Tears ran freely from my eyes as I watched the horror unfold in front of me. Still smiling the reporter's skin finally tore. His stomach opened up and from the cavity, as to be expected, loops of heavy chains fell to the ground like intestine. They hit the ground, blood-soaked and clanging. It seemed to never end, as the pile of chains grew larger and larger.

Actual organs were pulled free from their place as they were dragged out, tangled in the falling chains. They were crushed and mangled as the chains fell atop them. All the while the reported just stood with a sanguine smile across his face, his arms outstretched to his side like a pastor presenting his words to his congregation.

Then the outpouring of metal finally came to an end, a pile of chains that came up to the reporter's knees lay at his feet, bloody and filled with bits of gore. He looked at me, my wide eyes unable to do anything but meet his and watch the display in front of me.

“Now for the main event.”

He walked into the pile of chains, and stood, arms still outstretched. Then for the first time, he finally took his eyes off me, at look upward. As he did, the pile of chains started to climb his legs, slowly spiraling up, but consistently picking up speed. Before I knew it, from head to toe, the reporter was covered in the loose, bloody chains.

But it wasn’t over, with my heartbeat hammering in my ears, I watched as he started walking towards the camera, and the chains started to tighten around his body.

Five steps from the camera and the chains were snug against his skin.

Four steps from the camera and his skin was a deep purple about ready to pop.

Three steps from the camera and I could see the massive red blood vessels in his eyes form between the chains and his head was squeezed.

Two steps and the skin on his arms tore open, flesh being pulled apart like wet tissue paper.

One step away and I watched as his arms snapped from the force of the tight chains. But what was worst was when he reached for the camera, and my TV started to ripple. Out from my TV came a bloody, chain-wrapped hand. Using the frame of the TV, the reporter pulled himself through, from the studio into my house.

I thrashed against my binds, screaming bloody murder as the man's torso made his way into my abode.

Through the tight chains, his eye watched me thrash, pulling at my binds, tearing my own skin open against the cold steel.

With a heavy thud! His chain-wrapped feet planted themselves on my hardwood floor. The pain in my arms, legs, and chest was extreme as I tried and failed to free myself from my bonds, to get away, to escape from this thing.

He shambled towards me, his arms broken from the chains wrapped around them. In heartbeats he was before me, looking down at me, his blood shot eye stabbing into my panicked one.

“Ezekial, this is only the beginning.” He said, his chipper tone was gone, and in its place was a heavy wheezing thing, it echoes in my ears like the buzzing of the chains, pushing my mind ever closer to snapping.

“Your torment will be sweet, your agony exquisite, you will never no a moments piece.”

I somehow was able to speak but the words were sloppy and coated in fear. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Through the chains, I watched as the man molded his already warped face into a horrid version of a smile. Broken teeth fell from his mouth, and I could see that the chains had broken his jaw, but it didn’t stop him from letting out a terrifying laugh. “This is just the beginning Ezekial.”

Then he raised one chain-wrapped, mangled hand, and brought it down on the side of my head. Light flashed behind my eyes and before I could know what was happening, darkness was on its heal to take me.

~

Over the next weeks, the reporter's words came true. It was only the beginning, I could hear the chains everywhere I went, there was no silence anymore, any music I played would be downed out by the heavy clanging of metal.

I couldn’t speak to Janice, one day I came in from work only to find her hanging from the ceiling like a marionette, with arms, and legs having heavy chains tied to them. Her body covered in purple bruises like she had been beaten and blood seeping from her eyes.

The worst thing about it was that she spoke as if everything was normal, she would greet me, and try to talk to me, all the while she hung from the ceiling like a corpse. Her puffy purple skin stretched when she would give me one of her trademark rosie smiles. I came to the assumption that it wasn’t real, but each day she would be like that and each day her body would go through a stage of decay, all the while she tried to talk to me as if everything was normal.

Similar things happened with Marty and Jackson, though it was more subtle, every time I spoke to them I could see the ripple of the chains under their skin, it was a constant threat that the same thing that had happened to the reporter would happen to my friends.

And speaking of the reporter he was now a new friend, out of the corner of my eye I could see him, over my shoulder I could feel him watching me. I’d find his bloody footprints around my house. Most days id wake up to see him watching me at the foot of my bed. Only disappearing when my groggy waking mind actually processes what I was seeing.

It never ended, the torment was constant, but as he had said my pain was exquisite. Every bit of food had a piece of metal in it, every bite, every nibble, and each morsel. My teeth would crack and chip, only to be back to normal when I reached to inspect them.

Some nights I would be wakened from my sleep as my body was flogged, fighting my way out of my sheets as heavy chains slammed against my body. Breaking bone and tearing skin. Then I would find that my body was spotless. The only evidence for something having been done was the sound of the reporter's dim laugh over the sound of the chains clanging.

Weeks went by and my mind and body were almost completely gone, I hardly ate, only enduring the pain when the hunger got too great. I stopped going to work. Seeing my coworkers in the state they were in made it impossible to get anything done. I hadn’t left the house, for days. I hardly slept from the fear of “the flogging” or waking up to see the man at the foot of my bed.

I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. My mind was a fog of fear, pain, and the buzzing clang of chains, and it came to the point I couldn’t take it anymore.

~

I stood at the top of the basement steps. Looking down into the darkness, I could hear the chains dragging across the hard floor of the basement. The light switch sat to my right, and my hand hovered near it too afraid to flip it on.

My emaciated hand shook, the lack of sun and food making my skin a sickly color. I flipped on the light, and against the walls like mold, writhing chains sat on the walls, they twitched from the sudden light and I could see a ripple run through them.

I took a step back now seeing what awaited me at the bottom, a new fear gripping me. I reached a weak hand to grab the door to close it, then I felt it, a chain-wrapped hand in the center of my back as it gave me a strong shove.

I fell forward down the stairs, screaming all the way down the short fall.

I landed with a THUD and a SNAP, as I tried to stop myself. My arm snapped and a lightning bolt of pain shot through me, I curled into a ball tears of pain, fear, and regret running down my face.

“This is it Ezekial, no running now.” I looked at the top of the stairs, the bloody reporter stood there looking down at me from his bloodshot eye. I watched in horror as he closed the door with a heavy slam.

I started to hyperventilate as I struggled to my knees, cradling my ruined arm. I knew what was down here, I didn’t want to be there with what was down here.

The chains on the walls almost seemed to hiss as I walked through the basement slowly. Like a heartbeat ripples coursed through them like waves on water.

I made my way through the basement walking slowly, moving past old items I didn’t use anymore and frivolous items my salary afforded me.

Then, there she was.

She was beautiful, once. Long dark hair hung in front of her face; she had skin that was once spotless, but was now dry and bruised, her flesh a deep purple. She still wore the apron for the coffee shop she once worked at.

Arms above her head out to her side, like a pastor presenting a sermon to his congregation.

Holding her arms, heavy chains. Locked tight around her wrists. I could see that her skin was torn and bruised where she had tried to force her way out of her restraints.

I walked over to her and fell at her feet. Three things waited for me.

Chipped and broken teeth lay on the ground, bloody and ruined. And next to them lay the weapon that had done it, the length of chain, rusty and coated in her blood. It lay and her feet.

The third thing was something that hadn’t been here. It was a symbol of some kind I had never seen before. She had scrawled it into the floor with her own blood using her feet. It hurt to look at.

Pulling my eyes from the mark, I looked up at her, tears in my eyes, I knew why this was happening to me. Surrounded by her long dark hair on all sides, her lifeless eyes looked down at me, judging me, and finding me wanting.

“I’m sorry.” I cried. “Please, make it stop! You were just so pretty.” The buzzing of the chains picked up at my words. I clasped my hands together, my broken arm screaming and I pleaded with her. I could hear the chains getting closer. Around her, I could see where her blood splattered the walls, from her last moments. “I just wanted you to love me. Please forgive me.”

The light in the basement flickered and her cracked lips moved into a slight smile, her lifeless eyes looking into my very soul.

From behind me, as I curled into a ball, my tears stinging my eyes, knowing my suffering would never end I heard. “Your torment will be sweet, your agony exquisite, you will never no a moments piece. And she will NEVER forgive you.”