Respin woke up slowly. The first thing he noticed were the wooden floor panels underneath him. Floor panels in a shape and form not belonging to his cottage. The next thing he noticed with great horror was that his hands and feet were tied together behind his back. The position was far from pleasant as attested by the pain in his shoulders.

As he was about to struggle against his bonds, he heard someone moving towards him. Instinctively he went limp and played unconscious. Just in time as a second later a door was kicked open with a bang. Blinding light flooded the darkness.

„Fucking shit,“ growled someone. „Still out.“

„Haven't killed him, if that’s what ye mean,“ said someone else, Respin recognised immediately. Felder.

„It’s no fun to show them what they’re about to experience if their sleeping like little squishy Morphlings!“, roared the other who Respin guessed to be Amaris’ murderer — the voice certainly fitted someone like that.

„Don’t blame me!“, objected Felder. „You asked me to get the little mutant, and I’ve got him. Just as you asked me about his other mutant friend. Didn't tell me in what kinda way you wanted him tho, except not dead. Besides, I want to have his brain for my collection. Want to see what having no horns makes it look like.“

„Maybe I’ll start with you?“

„Whoa! Wait a sec! This ain’t what we agreed upon!“

„The fuck I care about your stupid hobby.“

Suddenly, the door was slammed shut again, and the room fell dark again. Concurrently something fell from a high point and hit the floor with a thud. Yet the thud was drowned out by something else being toppled or thrown over outside Respin's dark prison.

Immediately Respin continues his fight against the bounds, but they were too tight and too professionally made. The moment he stopped to catch his breath the screaming voice of his neighbour echoed through the place and ringed in his ears. With enough vigour to move a mountain and enough fear in his mind to make him panic he managed to push himself on his belly. With strength, he didn’t know he could muster, he pulled himself up into a sitting position. Another scream full of agony echoed through the place, while Respin forced himself to think calmly.

Even with the usual light sensitivity of Menkar, Respin couldn’t see anything around himself. It was just too dark. But he had his sixth-sense. Yet concentrating proved to be a demanding task with his neighbour outside being brutally killed and his fear. All he could do was hyperventilating.

Feeling his time growing short as the screams became weaker, Respin forced himself to breathe in deep. Holding his breath he counted to ten and exhaled slowly. Doing so three times he found himself calm enough to try again while hoping his knives were still around and hadn’t wandered already into a tool-box full of torture devices.

Against all the odds he had luck. His captor had placed the weapons on one of the walls inside this chamber and the thing that had dropped turned out to be one of his knives. As silent as possible, he crawled on his knees towards it and sat down. Careful he turned around and tried to feel for the weapon with his fingers. Once he touched it, he cut himself. Hissing he tried again to grab its handle. I need to wedge the blade between two floorboards, he told himself. Then I can cut the robes around my wrists.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Meanwhile, more nasty sounds originated from behind the door. Respin forced himself not to listen to those sounds. Even slower than before he touched the blade and pulled it inch for inch closer until he could feel the handle. Careful not to cut himself again he turned the knife around and leaned forward. After about three attempts he managed to wedge the knife into a gap and began to rub his bounds agains the sharp blade.

After a few tense moments, the robe loosened and fell from his wrists like dead snakes. Relieved Respin pulled his arms slowly to his front. As he did so, he had to bite down the hiss of pain in his throat. His muscles were protesting against the sudden movement after being forced to stay in one position for at least some hours. All the while the sounds outside his dark cell were slowly subsiding.

Next, he undid the knot keeping his ankles bound and grabbed both knives. With the weapons in his trembling hands, he moved to the door and was about to slightly open it to peer out. As he did so, the last of the sounds beyond it vanished. Frightened he froze and pressed himself against the wall next to the door. A mere second later it was yanked open by Amaris’ murderer who was covered in mid-grey blood. With his free hand, he was wiping off the blood from his lime green face, while he held a blood coated pair of giant scissors in his other. Intuitive Respin knocked the much taller and stronger Menkar over with the door and ran out of the room.

He wasn’t able to go far before he slipped on a puddle of mid-grey blood and hit the ground hard. Dazzled he wasted precious time laying semi-conscious on the floor. Yet the stupor of the impact vanished within mere seconds and was replaced with freezing dread as Respin’s eyes focused on the mangled body of Felder.

The stocky Menkar stared at him with empty half closed grey eyes. His head was in an unnatural position. Blood ran from his agape mouth and the nose. Underneath him, a pool of bitter smelling blood grew with every passing second. And Respin starred. He stared until Felder made a gurgling sound and opened his eyes wide, which focused on Respin.

Respin screamed and jumped to his feet. A wall made his retread impossible and forced him to look at the whole dimension. White Bones poked out from carved open skin. Bluish-grey Organs were visible between cuts. Too much for Respin, who would have vomited if he had eaten. Still, he retched.

Only as the murderer bumped against the door of the small room he had kept Respin in, Respin turned away running for his life. But the murderer was faster back on his feet then Respin expected. With a powerful jump, he went after hi, and caught up with ease.

Respin’s mind just working with basic instincts forced his body to move aside. Just a heartbeat slower, he would have ended up with the pair of scissors rammed into his shoulder and pulled down. So, it merely scratched over his back to leave a deep, burning cut.

„Bastard!“, the murderer screeched, regaining his balance for a new attack. „Come back here!“

„No! I won’t!“, Respin screamed at the top of his lunges and headed for what he hoped to be the front door of this terrible hellhole.

He didn’t pause to open it to get out. He just jumped at it with all his might and bruised his shoulder in the process. To his relief the door gave in easily. Soon he felt warm sand underneath his feet, but he didn’t stop or slowed down. He needed to get away even if his lungs felt like they could burst any second. But before he could get halfway away from the murderer’s cottage something hard hit his ankles and warped itself around his feet, tripping him. He screamed and spiralled to the ground.

Sand filled his mouth, nose, and eyes.