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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Dark · #2072607
This is a short story from a writing prompt. Would love to hear how the reader responds.
Screaming From Under The Bed


Mind Break Hotel, that’s what we call our unfortunate abode. Bland colors, blank walls, long halls, and locked doors. I think if there was a hell on earth, it would be in our own minds, and we would be locked in them for eternity, just like here, except for here, we have hope of one dying. Not that we all don’t fear another hell when we do die, we just don’t fear it. Nothing could be worse than the living hell we are experiencing now, so it is exciting to think about a new experience, no matter how painful.

Take my roommate Chance here for example. They dragged him in here about six months after I arrived screaming. He wasn’t screaming anything in particular, just screaming like he was on fire or something. Non-stop for days this went on. The only time he wasn’t screaming was when they medicated him so heavily he was unconscious, but as soon as he woke up, he was screaming again. Apparently he preferred screaming to drugs because now he lays under his bed with the blanket hanging over so you can’t see that he is there and he screams. Since I don’t complain, they pretty much leave him alone now. I imagine, another hell, any hell, would be better than the one his mind is currently living in.

If you are wondering why I don’t complain it’s because I am deaf, which is why they chose me to be his roommate. I can’t hear him scream, but luckily I can feel him. He generates a vibration that resonates through out our room. It’s quite powerful actually. I imagine if we had shelves with pictures on them, his screams might very well rattle them off. I actually enjoy feeling his pain as it tingles through my body each day. I use it to relive my deeds, the ones that got me locked in Mind Break Hotel. It is quite incredible to be fed my desires though a screaming man under the bed, and while I did not put him there, his constant suffering is pleasing to my senses as I stare at these black walls, with only my memories to view.


Copyrighted, 2016 by Iva Couchman


© Copyright 2016 Iva Marie (iva333 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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