Prologue to WIP

Prologue

         He’d been stripped of his shoes, and what was left of his shirt was torn. He could feel the cold air seeping in through his ripped clothing.

         “Help me.”

         He listened to scuffling noises coming from inside the room. Or, was it outside? He couldn’t tell.

         “Is someone there? Please, help me!”

         His voice was almost gone, but he pleaded anyway. There was someone there, he knew it. He could hear the sound of labored breathing and what sounded like the scrape of shoes across the dirt floor.

         He had no way of knowing how long he’d been in the damp space. It felt like a cave – so dark he couldn’t see his hand held up in front of his eyes.

         He put a hand to the raw burn on his throat and the rope still hanging there. He couldn’t remember exactly what had happened and he was terrified of finding out what was to come. He cleared his throat and managed a hoarse whisper.

         “Please, I’m a rich man. Whatever you want, just please, help me!”

         He heard the laughter first and trembled at the evil in its tone – a wild, animal-like sound that came from too close.

         “Now, why would I help you?” the voice said on another wave of feral amusement. “This is my favorite game. You know who wins, don’t you?”

         He knew the voice and knowing made him cower away from the hope that help would come. A slight rustle at his side made him jump. On his knees, he scrambled to get away from it. For the first time he noticed the terrible stench that hung in the air. It seemed to surround him and become stronger as he struggled to move.

         Suddenly there was light behind him and he jerked his head around just in time to see the sledgehammer slicing through the air.

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