Meh Spoopy Storeh
“Arghh no service here” Raziel grumbled, chucking his phone on the ground, accidentally smashing the delicate glass screen on the cold cement floor he was sitting on. One of his hands were free but the other was tied with a thin rope to an anchor on the ground. He wasn’t scared, there was no sweat dripping from his forehead, his arms weren't trembling, and he had already steadied his breathing. He had been in a situation similar to this once before in his dreams. Then he heard the same sound that has been repeating every five minutes. ‘riiip’ riiiip’ ‘rip’, the sound of paper being teared. The same man walked from behind a white, rusted oven, to stand in front of Raziel. About a centimeter of the skin beneath his eyes was missing from his face, and in his hands. Blood dripped from his vein popped eyes, as he dropped the paper in his hands and started to rip the now dead skin he held. Raziel just stayed put and watched. After the strange man had finished, he walked up to the small boy with one hand chained to the floor and forcefully opened his mouth, stuffing the many pieces of bloody tissue down his throat. Then the brown haired, wrinkle faced man picked up Raziel’s phone and left, returning behind the oven. Silence, then an ear piercing scream filled the small cement room. Smoke rose from the old oven, and a strong, rotten squirrell smell replaced the screaming, making it hard to breath.
Raziel closed his eyes. A single sweat drop fell from his forehead. After he vomited bile, and what was left in his stomach he reached into the bottom of his pocket, pulled out a mint, and popped it in his mouth, then wiped his mouth. He sat criss cross as another muffled scream came from within the oven, that was now heating up the room quite a bit, that’s why he let a single sweat escape through his white skin. The heat was wrecking the gel in his hair, causing his flawless dew to look like a bad hair day. “Damnit” Raziel frantically started running his hand through his thin, black hair until it looked somewhat decent. Eventually the old man returned, with a small knife in his hand. As soon as he approached Raziel, he tilted his head, popping his neck to get a better view. Raziel smirked and crouched on his feet, limited by the short chain that was cutting off the circulation of his right hand. Raziel kicked out his leg, knocking the pocket knife out of the nameless man’s hand. It fell by Raziel’s side, he quickly grabbed it with his left hand while the old guy was realizing what had happened. Then he inhaled, closing his eyes, and stabbed the knife through his skinny jeans and into his left leg. Raziel winced but that was it. Next he darted the weapon directly at the man in front of him, getting a perfect shot in his eye. The old man let out the first sounds Raziel has ever heard him speak, a loud raspy scream of pain. While the man tried to pull the knife out of his eye, Raziel plunged his hand into his fresh wound, to cover his hand in blood. He moved quickly so the blood wouldn’t dry and used it to lubricate his right wrist. Like he suspected, he slipped his hand free from the chain on the ground, and stood up. After soothing his wrist for a minute, Raziel walked past the now, one eyed man, limped to behind the oven, and found what he was looking for. At least four stacks of paper sat symmetrically on a small wooden desk. He combined the stacks together, opened the oven, and saw human body parts. He ignored them and set the paper in the oven. After closing the oven he turned it up to full heat, watching the paper catch flame, and deteriorate until nothing was left but black ashes to join the teeth, and small bones at the bottom of the oven. “Finally-” Raziel started, wiping his forehead dramatically, “-free from that horridiful ripping sound.” He looked at his surroundings. In front of him were multiple people squished in a corner, eyes full of fear and terror, their mouths covered by baby blue clothes. He turned to his right, more people. It was the same to his left as well. Raziel sighed, “of course-” he fake smiled, “-no door.”
Raziel walked back to the far side of the room, where he was chained. He kicked the dead old man out of his way and sat criss cross, back on the cold floor. He breathed in once again, closed his eyes, and slammed his head backwards onto the cement. His vision instantly went black, the screams disappeared, his hair fell in front of his eyes. Blood slowly pooled around Raziel’s head. A slow, deep squeaking, sounds from behind his now lifeless body. The door that was behind him cracks open revealing a cliff, hovering above the crimson ocean below.
Why I chose this one?
Yes. I chose this story again because I'm just really happy about it. Even when I read it myself I'm like "wut. Did I write that..?" This story also helped me write more freely.
“Arghh no service here” Raziel grumbled, chucking his phone on the ground, accidentally smashing the delicate glass screen on the cold cement floor he was sitting on. One of his hands were free but the other was tied with a thin rope to an anchor on the ground. He wasn’t scared, there was no sweat dripping from his forehead, his arms weren't trembling, and he had already steadied his breathing. He had been in a situation similar to this once before in his dreams. Then he heard the same sound that has been repeating every five minutes. ‘riiip’ riiiip’ ‘rip’, the sound of paper being teared. The same man walked from behind a white, rusted oven, to stand in front of Raziel. About a centimeter of the skin beneath his eyes was missing from his face, and in his hands. Blood dripped from his vein popped eyes, as he dropped the paper in his hands and started to rip the now dead skin he held. Raziel just stayed put and watched. After the strange man had finished, he walked up to the small boy with one hand chained to the floor and forcefully opened his mouth, stuffing the many pieces of bloody tissue down his throat. Then the brown haired, wrinkle faced man picked up Raziel’s phone and left, returning behind the oven. Silence, then an ear piercing scream filled the small cement room. Smoke rose from the old oven, and a strong, rotten squirrell smell replaced the screaming, making it hard to breath.
Raziel closed his eyes. A single sweat drop fell from his forehead. After he vomited bile, and what was left in his stomach he reached into the bottom of his pocket, pulled out a mint, and popped it in his mouth, then wiped his mouth. He sat criss cross as another muffled scream came from within the oven, that was now heating up the room quite a bit, that’s why he let a single sweat escape through his white skin. The heat was wrecking the gel in his hair, causing his flawless dew to look like a bad hair day. “Damnit” Raziel frantically started running his hand through his thin, black hair until it looked somewhat decent. Eventually the old man returned, with a small knife in his hand. As soon as he approached Raziel, he tilted his head, popping his neck to get a better view. Raziel smirked and crouched on his feet, limited by the short chain that was cutting off the circulation of his right hand. Raziel kicked out his leg, knocking the pocket knife out of the nameless man’s hand. It fell by Raziel’s side, he quickly grabbed it with his left hand while the old guy was realizing what had happened. Then he inhaled, closing his eyes, and stabbed the knife through his skinny jeans and into his left leg. Raziel winced but that was it. Next he darted the weapon directly at the man in front of him, getting a perfect shot in his eye. The old man let out the first sounds Raziel has ever heard him speak, a loud raspy scream of pain. While the man tried to pull the knife out of his eye, Raziel plunged his hand into his fresh wound, to cover his hand in blood. He moved quickly so the blood wouldn’t dry and used it to lubricate his right wrist. Like he suspected, he slipped his hand free from the chain on the ground, and stood up. After soothing his wrist for a minute, Raziel walked past the now, one eyed man, limped to behind the oven, and found what he was looking for. At least four stacks of paper sat symmetrically on a small wooden desk. He combined the stacks together, opened the oven, and saw human body parts. He ignored them and set the paper in the oven. After closing the oven he turned it up to full heat, watching the paper catch flame, and deteriorate until nothing was left but black ashes to join the teeth, and small bones at the bottom of the oven. “Finally-” Raziel started, wiping his forehead dramatically, “-free from that horridiful ripping sound.” He looked at his surroundings. In front of him were multiple people squished in a corner, eyes full of fear and terror, their mouths covered by baby blue clothes. He turned to his right, more people. It was the same to his left as well. Raziel sighed, “of course-” he fake smiled, “-no door.”
Raziel walked back to the far side of the room, where he was chained. He kicked the dead old man out of his way and sat criss cross, back on the cold floor. He breathed in once again, closed his eyes, and slammed his head backwards onto the cement. His vision instantly went black, the screams disappeared, his hair fell in front of his eyes. Blood slowly pooled around Raziel’s head. A slow, deep squeaking, sounds from behind his now lifeless body. The door that was behind him cracks open revealing a cliff, hovering above the crimson ocean below.
Why I chose this one?
Yes. I chose this story again because I'm just really happy about it. Even when I read it myself I'm like "wut. Did I write that..?" This story also helped me write more freely.
