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Anthropophobia |
| Written by Evan Dover | |
| Tuesday, 22 April 2008 | |
The foul stench of Lily’s body kept filling the small cabin. Her right leg below the knee was missing and what remained was now wrapped in Ken’s jacket. Extremely drowsy, she leaned back against his body. The blood was forming a small pool below her leg. The blood stained planks on the floor were now the only bit of the small cabin that had any color that went beyond a dark brown or black. It was only a small room with a bench and a small table that was now blocking the door. There was a small closet— empty— at the end of the room. The whole place was rather dark and had no light except for the suns which came from the window. The place was musty and every corner was filled with cobwebs. The door was at level ground and the rather small, barred off window was off to the right side and the ground rose and met the wall right below the window. This was the only source of light the small cabin had ever seen. And now, that light was hardly pouring in. Not only was the sun setting down, but the resplendent sunset was being blocked. As Ken held her slightly alive body wrapped tightly in his arms, a tear flickered down his cheek. His fear began to rise now. The entire ordeal had seemed like a dream to him. But as the sun was setting, he started to fully see that it was not a dream— no, it was a nightmare. He held his gaze on the blood-covered girl in his arms, because looking out of the window was too hard for him. In the small room, the only noise that could be heard was the muttered words from the half-naked man crouching— arms wrapped over knees— outside of the window. Strangely, his voice kept switching on and off of four different accents. He would speak like a Frenchman, an Australian, an American, and, most often, a crazed man. He would cycle through his voices, talking to himself; mostly about them. His appearance was quite peculiar. He only had on what was left off some ripped pants. His skin was pale white, nearly matching the clouds of the sky— only his skin wasn’t quite as beautiful. His hair, now wet, was black and nearly came down to his chest. His teeth were a horrible yellow or light brown seeming color. There was blood dripping from his glass littered hands and his left shoulder. You could tell why his hands were covered in blood from the blood-smeared glass that had once formed a window. Now all that separated this man from the inside of the cabin was the iron bars that were in the frame. Beside Ken laid a gun, something else that was empty in that small cabin. You could tell what use it had been put to by the hole in the man’s chest who still watched them from behind the window frame. Ken looked up to see the man still sitting in the same spot and the darkness creeping in as the sun went down. The man’s yellow tinted eyes started gleaming; and as the darkness started to become more pronounced, they were soon glowing. Everything was now completely dark; now there was hardly anything noticeable except for the set of bright, yellow eyes. The man’s voice began to get louder, “We’ll get in there soon! Yes! Very soon we will!” exclaimed the crazed man as he started moving about. He came down and, as he had not tried before, started ramming the door. Everything seemed to be shaking now. The table was breaking and there was no way out. Within minutes, the door was cracking open. Now, the man got in, and still talking to himself, looked down at the two bodies. As Ken now got up, in front of Lily’s body, all seemed hopeless. The last noises that were heard that night were shrill screams from inside the cabin.
Copyright 2008 Evan Dover |
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