Sleepless

We are going to try something here. Cory, my fellow / guest blogger, came up with the idea of us doing a kind of writing contest. We will come up with a basic premise or topic and then write a story based on that, edit and post. Then have our readers comment and see who’s is best. Of course I know I will win every time :P. Ha ha I jest. (Or do I?) But this is going to be our first attempt at this.

Cory picked the premise first, since it was his idea. It is simple but strange at the same time. It boils down to “panicked in a dumpster”. So we are going to start with Cory’s story then I will post my own. Let us know what you think.

BTW Nel will not be participating in this one. He has been very busy and we cannot fault him for that but he may participate on another story.

-Tra

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Sleepless

I know I can’t make it much farther. My body isn’t built for running and it certainly isn’t made to maintain it for any sort of distance. Out of breath and a stitch in my side I start to slow down, frantically searching the area for a place to hide. I hear the shouts behind me, the sound of their foot steps echoing off the buildings of the deserted streets. Whatever possessed me to leave the house at 3 am is beyond me, whenever I can’t sleep I usually just sit in front of the TV for an hour and it puts me out like a light. As the sound of running gets closer I know I only have a few moments before they find me.

I go around the back of a strip mall and try the dumpsters, I check the first one – locked, the second – locked, who in their right mind locks a dumpster – man, doesn’t anyone trust anyone these days? How bad are things when you need to start locking your dumpster?. I continue to check and pray that someone left one open. Panic starts to set in so I start back at the first one and pull on the lock, fear gripping my insides. I don’t think about what’ll happen if they catch me.  The third dumpster down I yank on the lock, it opens – GOD BLESS the stooge who doesn’t know how to close a lock  (unable to stop the boss in me I can’t help but think if they worked for me they’d get an earful in the morning.), I quickly open it and peer inside; phew just cardboard, I jump in and shut the lid, breathing heavy.

As quickly and quietly as I can I burrow underneath a few layers of cardboard just incase they decide to look in – the only thing they’ll see, hopefully, is broken down boxes. I have just enough time to cover myself and realize I no longer hear the sound of running. I break out into a sweat and start feeling a little claustrophobic, suffocating underneath the cardboard. I hear them trying the dumpsters; I hold my breath as the lid of my dumpster opens. I strain to hear the slightest sound. What is that? Is that the sound of someone stepping on the dumpster? My heart quickens. I can’t help but think back to the movie The Never Ending Story and I desperately hope that Falcor is on his way.

I’m brought quickly back to reality when I feel the weight of some one on my back. I try not to move or make a sound but their weight is almost too much. My mind is racing with panic, trying to think my way out of this madness. They know I’m here; they can feel a body underneath the cardboard and they’re toying with me. I’m about to explode when I feel the pressure ease off my back; I hear muffled voices whispering but the words elude me, all I hear is the sound of my pulse as the blood rushes through my veins. The lid slams shut and they bang on it in frustration, my body tenses for a second at the sound. I slowly begin to relax as I hear the sound of unrushed foot steps retreating from my hiding place. I lay there as still and quiet as possible, it feels like an eternity.

When I emerge from my dumpster, huh, my dumpster, funny … the dumpster, it was almost 5 am – I had been lying there afraid to move for 45 minutes. I stand and stretch my back; it’s still a little sore from the weight of the ruffian.

I start walking back towards the parking lot where I left the car. I freeze, what was that? My heart beat quickens. Did I leave too soon; have the ruffians decided to come back? I can’t run anymore. My legs start to shake at the thought, having run them to the point of over exertion.  I brace myself for whatever’s about to come round the corner, I jump as the shadow comes into view … a little scream escapes my lips as there before me is a raccoon out scavenging for food. I start to chuckle to myself and let my body relax. I cautiously turn the corner keeping my eyes and ears open for the first sign of my pursuers. I must be getting paranoid because I feel I’m being watched. Someone must be lurking in the shadows. I hurry down the block, glancing behind me with a sense of unease.

Close to my car I force my legs to run the last few feet fishing in my pockets for the keys. I unlock the door and get in, locking it behind me. A feeling of safety washes over me and lean my head back against the head rest. As the adrenalin dissipates it leaves me exhausted and I can’t wait to get back home and rest my head on the soft pillow and ease into sleep.

Next thing I know there’s a tap on my window and I feel a wet spot growing in my pants. Panic grips my bowels and I fear I might not be able to control myself. I keep my eyes shut tight. The tap comes again this time I faintly hear someone talking. I gather my courage and open an eye. All I see is a silhouette through the fogged up window. The tap comes again along with the voice I can now hear more clearly.

“Hello, we know you’re in there, we’ve been waiting for you.” The sound of their laughter sends a wicked chill down my spine as I feel a renewed wetness seeping down my legs. I clumsily fumble with the keys, trying to put them in the ignition. My palms sweating, my heart is racing. I see silhouettes surround the car and I’m paralyzed with fear. I can’t move. I remember that my cell phone is in the centre console – I let myself feel a faint shimmer of hope and yet I still can’t get my body to do what I want. The voice comes again.

“Did you really think you could get away that easily? HUH?”  It says. The car begins to rock. I feel a tightening in my chest and it feels as though the wind has been knocked out of me. I sit, helpless as the car continues to rock and the voice taunts me. I jerk as I hear the sound of something smashing. The night air hits me and the door swings open. I feel the force of someone grabbing and pulling my limp and sweaty body from the car.

I’m on the ground looking up surrounded by faces I don’t recognize. I can’t make out the words but I can tell that they’re laughing me, pointing at my wet pants. One of them bends down and whispers in my ear. “How does it feel to know you’re going to die?” A small croak escapes my lips and my eyes are wide with terror. The tightening in my chest gets tighter and my vision starts to blur. I can’t tell when they begin with the kicking but I know my body is being abused. I manage to move onto my side. I can’t believe this is the end I think to myself. The pain begins to come in waves.

They finally stop kicking and I feel hands rifling through my pockets. I hear another voice. “You know this would have been so different if you just hadn’t run from us in the beginning. If you’d only stayed in that dumpster we wouldn’t have come back for you, but now it’s too late.” He takes the wallet from my back pocket. I feel myself being hoisted up; they’re dragging me I can only imagine where. My body screams and yet I can’t seem to get a word to escape my lips. My eyes dart left and right trying to remember things as they pass so if by some miracle I live I can find my way back or out or something.

They drop me to the ground sounding a little out of breath and one of them says “Did you look for the fattest guy you could find or what?” Again they laugh.  I feel my hands; they’re tying them behind my back.

“As much fun as this is guys let’s finish this up” I think it was the first voice but can’t be sure’ “I’m hungry and breakfast is on Mr. Brockville here.” They stand me up and lean me back against the wall. I begin to fall over but someone catches me “easy there big fella – Help a guy out and stay standing” They laugh, they think they’re clever. He releases me again and somehow I manage to stay upright although I feel like my legs are about to give at any moment.

I stand there, unsteady, looking at their faces burning every detail into my mind. They didn’t bother to disguise themselves in anyway, why would they if they had no intention of letting me live. I think the one who’s the leader pulls a knife from his jacket. My eyes stare at it the low light catching softly on the cold hard blade. I can’t help but think if I’d only just sat and watched TV like I usually do.

I don’t see him come towards me I only feel the knife enter my belly. My throat finally finds my voice I scream the searing white pain that I feel as the knife moves across my stomach. I double over and fall to the ground. I plead with my eyes for him to finish it quickly and let me die. He bends down and looks at me before he shakes his head saying “It’s your own fault you know.” The knife enters my chest with such force the thrust cracks a rib. I wince but can’t scream, the knife having pierced a lung.

Behind me there’s the sound of metal banging on metal as they open the dumpster and let the lid fall. It takes all of their effort to lift me half conscious up to the edge of the dumpster. With a final shove I am over the side falling onto the broken bottles and rotting filth, left like another piece of garbage. Before I pass into oblivion I hear the lid close, darkness creeping in around me. The last thing I hear is the sound of their laughter as they walk away.

Cory

Original Fiction

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Cory

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