Titanosaurus
02-05-2009, 08:32 PM
LAST MINUTES ALIVE
Chelsea was alive, but just barely. Her hands were chained and handcuffed, with a dirty rope suspending her from the ceiling. About 17 years old, she had a supple body and long, flaming red hair. But that's beside the point.
Chelsea noticed a single, dim little light in the otherwise pitch-black room. The room was rather small, and odd, hard-to-see objects littered what appeared to be shelves within the darkness. She could barely remember anything...
Veronica: "Oh my God, you should totally ask him out!"
Chelsea: "Ugh, no way. I mean, he's cute, but, I don't know. Tray is WAY to popular to go out with ME!"
Veronica: "Oh please, girl! You're just as popular as him! Would it kill you to just go up and ask him?"
Chelsea: "Yeah it would! I would be so nervous!"
Veronica: "But he's cute!"
Chelsea: "I know, and that's what would make it so hard! He's a hottie! And besides, I thought he was dating Sara Vaughn".
Veronica: "Not anymore! They just broke up on Tuesday!"
Chelsea: "No shit?!"
Veronica: "No shit!"
Chelsea: "Damn. Well, I'll give him a try during Spanish today then. What's the worst that could happen?"
Veronica: "Oh fuck! I forgot to do my math last night! Do think I can copy off you before we get to school?"
Chelsea: "Yeah, okay. I think I've got it right he...
...and then nothing. She remembered Veronica screaming, but then nothing.
Chelsea was lucky that she wasn't fully concious, or else she might have noticed the severed head of her best friend sitting gently on a shelf just to her lower left.
It was about the time she started swaying back and forth in a pitiful attempt at freedom did Chelsea realize that she was completley naked. She still had her socks on, but was otherwise completley unclothed.
Those handcuffs were really starting to dig into her wrists now. She swayed more and more in a desperate attempt at freedom. She stopped when she suddenly felt a monumental surge of pain. Chelsea looked down to her thigh. Squinting hardily, she noticed the source of the pain: a chunk of flesh about the size of a hamburger had messily removed from her thigh. Upon seeing the gruesome work, she attempted to let out a high-pitched scream of fright. It was about this time did the near-unconcious girl realize her mouth had been covered with ductape.
Frantically trying to find out where on Earth she was, a light suddenly appeared in front of her. A blinding light through which a tall figure lazily shuffled. The figure closed the door behind itself. Now wide awake, Chelsea nervously observed the figure. It was a tall person clad in a black, hooded, flowing robe. The figure's hands had black leather gloves on them. Chelsea then watched the figure derobe, revealing itself as a man not quite 50 years old. Chelsea recognized him, but didn't know exactly who he was.
The man softly stepped over to her and, with a perverted grin on his face, gently fondled her supple breasts. He started to move his right hand further down Chelsea's body. She was crying and breathing heavily. The man then slid his fingers slowly between her legs, and with an even more twisted mug on his face, slipped them inside of her. In and out. In and out. Chelsea's cries then became a distored mixture of hysteric sobbing and erotic moaning.
When he finished, he pulled out an instrument from each of his brown pockets. In his left hand, a large knife; in his right, a rusty hook. He sat down the hook and, holding onto the knife even more firmly, strolled back over to Chelsea. Panicking wildly, she struggled to free herself, but to no avail. The maniac decided to start his gruesome work by slowly sawing off Chelsea's right foot. What seemed like an eternity of unadulterated pain, lasted only about 4 minutes. Crying, screaming under her breath, she looked down and eyed her new stump. The blood looked alot like it did in the movies; gushing, apple-red, dripping down nastily from where her foot used to be. The psycho eagerly rubbed himself while Chelsea squirmed. Next came an ear, then the rest of her leg, and then a chunk of flesh around her shoulder.
Drenched with blood and barely, barely alive, she struggled to remain concious. But then she thought "Why? Why live like this, in such pain?" Chelsea began to allow herself to slip slowly away, and the man saw what she was trying to do. He anxiously glanced at his watch, and decided to finish the job. Grabbing hardily onto his hook, the man gutted Chelsea without haste. She flopped around wildly as her instestines and blood slid out of her body and hit the floor with a sickening array of sounds.
Just after she finished twitching, an ear-piercing ringing filled the air. It was the school bell. The janitor cleaned up his bloody instruments, locked up the utility closet, and then shuffled through the crowds of noisey teenagers.
Chelsea was alive, but just barely. Her hands were chained and handcuffed, with a dirty rope suspending her from the ceiling. About 17 years old, she had a supple body and long, flaming red hair. But that's beside the point.
Chelsea noticed a single, dim little light in the otherwise pitch-black room. The room was rather small, and odd, hard-to-see objects littered what appeared to be shelves within the darkness. She could barely remember anything...
Veronica: "Oh my God, you should totally ask him out!"
Chelsea: "Ugh, no way. I mean, he's cute, but, I don't know. Tray is WAY to popular to go out with ME!"
Veronica: "Oh please, girl! You're just as popular as him! Would it kill you to just go up and ask him?"
Chelsea: "Yeah it would! I would be so nervous!"
Veronica: "But he's cute!"
Chelsea: "I know, and that's what would make it so hard! He's a hottie! And besides, I thought he was dating Sara Vaughn".
Veronica: "Not anymore! They just broke up on Tuesday!"
Chelsea: "No shit?!"
Veronica: "No shit!"
Chelsea: "Damn. Well, I'll give him a try during Spanish today then. What's the worst that could happen?"
Veronica: "Oh fuck! I forgot to do my math last night! Do think I can copy off you before we get to school?"
Chelsea: "Yeah, okay. I think I've got it right he...
...and then nothing. She remembered Veronica screaming, but then nothing.
Chelsea was lucky that she wasn't fully concious, or else she might have noticed the severed head of her best friend sitting gently on a shelf just to her lower left.
It was about the time she started swaying back and forth in a pitiful attempt at freedom did Chelsea realize that she was completley naked. She still had her socks on, but was otherwise completley unclothed.
Those handcuffs were really starting to dig into her wrists now. She swayed more and more in a desperate attempt at freedom. She stopped when she suddenly felt a monumental surge of pain. Chelsea looked down to her thigh. Squinting hardily, she noticed the source of the pain: a chunk of flesh about the size of a hamburger had messily removed from her thigh. Upon seeing the gruesome work, she attempted to let out a high-pitched scream of fright. It was about this time did the near-unconcious girl realize her mouth had been covered with ductape.
Frantically trying to find out where on Earth she was, a light suddenly appeared in front of her. A blinding light through which a tall figure lazily shuffled. The figure closed the door behind itself. Now wide awake, Chelsea nervously observed the figure. It was a tall person clad in a black, hooded, flowing robe. The figure's hands had black leather gloves on them. Chelsea then watched the figure derobe, revealing itself as a man not quite 50 years old. Chelsea recognized him, but didn't know exactly who he was.
The man softly stepped over to her and, with a perverted grin on his face, gently fondled her supple breasts. He started to move his right hand further down Chelsea's body. She was crying and breathing heavily. The man then slid his fingers slowly between her legs, and with an even more twisted mug on his face, slipped them inside of her. In and out. In and out. Chelsea's cries then became a distored mixture of hysteric sobbing and erotic moaning.
When he finished, he pulled out an instrument from each of his brown pockets. In his left hand, a large knife; in his right, a rusty hook. He sat down the hook and, holding onto the knife even more firmly, strolled back over to Chelsea. Panicking wildly, she struggled to free herself, but to no avail. The maniac decided to start his gruesome work by slowly sawing off Chelsea's right foot. What seemed like an eternity of unadulterated pain, lasted only about 4 minutes. Crying, screaming under her breath, she looked down and eyed her new stump. The blood looked alot like it did in the movies; gushing, apple-red, dripping down nastily from where her foot used to be. The psycho eagerly rubbed himself while Chelsea squirmed. Next came an ear, then the rest of her leg, and then a chunk of flesh around her shoulder.
Drenched with blood and barely, barely alive, she struggled to remain concious. But then she thought "Why? Why live like this, in such pain?" Chelsea began to allow herself to slip slowly away, and the man saw what she was trying to do. He anxiously glanced at his watch, and decided to finish the job. Grabbing hardily onto his hook, the man gutted Chelsea without haste. She flopped around wildly as her instestines and blood slid out of her body and hit the floor with a sickening array of sounds.
Just after she finished twitching, an ear-piercing ringing filled the air. It was the school bell. The janitor cleaned up his bloody instruments, locked up the utility closet, and then shuffled through the crowds of noisey teenagers.