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Rated: 13+ · Sample · Horror/Scary · #2102268
A short, rough prologue from a horror story that I'm slowly working on
Amy woke slowly, struggling toward consciousness as though she was wading through tar, every step requiring almost superhuman effort. She didn't remember lying down to sleep; The last she remembered was a searing pain in her back. As wakefulness finally came, she began to take in were she was. It wasn't her bedroom. It wasn't even her flat, or anywhere she recognised at all.
It was a small concrete room, badly lit with an odd mix of odours that caught in the back of her throat; Damp mixed with something else, something darker, more organic.
She was curled on a large, worn and stained dog bed. A stand next to the bed held a metal bowl, full of water. It had "Dog" embossed onto it.
The flickering light came from a screen inset into the wall, playing scenes from some horror movie or other. At least that was her first impression as she glanced at the dancing images on the screen. Wait, those images looked like this room. It was this room, something that had been filmed here. Another figure, crawling on all fours, eating from the bowls like they were an animal. 'What the fuck?'
Her pulse started racing. What was going on, what had happened? She sat up, feeling a wave of nausea and dizziness pass through her, the muscles in her back complaining. She reached round to massage herself, finding a tender spot on her shoulder, dried blood marking two puncture marks in her top. 'At least I'm still dressed.' she thought, before a hurried check of her pockets revealed they had, unsurprisingly, been emptied. There was a rough leather collar cinched tight around her neck, but she could find no buckle to remove it, only a rivet that held it closed. It wasn't coming off any time soon.
"Hello? Is there anyone there?" Silence answered her. She shivered. 'I'm still asleep, I must be. This sorta thing only happens in movies'.
The room was not as empty as she had first thought. A low box sat in the darkest corner, closer inspection revealing it was half-full with wooden pellets and seemed to be the source of the organic odour in the room.Amy;s eyebrow raised. "Really? A fucking litter tray? You've gotta be joking". A shelf occupied one wall up towards the ceiling and something. No. Lots of somethings. Hanging behind sheets of perspex were pictures; Hundreds of pictures, arranged by subject, all taken in this room, all showing people on all fours; on the litter tray; eating from the bowls; begging; crying. Suffering. A few portrayed multiple figures, with one being stoked like an animal. More showed a figure with a horsewhip, punishing the primary subject. The last few of each set, the ones that caused Amy's nausea to intensify as fear sank it's talons into her showed much worse.
"Hello!" her voice wavering as she shouted. "What the fuck is this?"
Clambering to her feet, she stumbled over to the heavy metal door inset opposite the television. It was locked, the metal rough against her palms as she tried to open it. 'Shit, this is definitely fucked up'.
She sank back down onto the bed, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them protectively. Leaning back against the wall, the contents of the shelf came into view, through the tears prickling at the edges of her vision. Skulls, human skulls sat there. The flickering light from the television reflecting off the polished bone, their empty eye sockets gazing mockingly down on her. Amy could feel the bile rising in her throat, unable to hold back the flood of tears any longer. 'This is fucked up, this isn't happening, it's a fucking nightmare that I need to wake the fuck up from.'

There was no way of telling how long she had been awake for as she lay on the bed sobbing. The sharp, acidic reek of her vomit had faded as it dried, subsumed into the background odours. She was shivering, though she had no idea if it was from fear, or from the penetrating dampness of the room.
Amy looked up, choking down tears as something rattled in the lock, before the door opened wide enough for a figure to slip through. It had a bowl in one hand, a small box in the other. It walked slowly to the centre of the room, a slight limp marring it's steps, before looking down at her and nodding. "You're awake. Good. I prefer my pets to be responsive when I train them. Now, sit up and ask nicely for me, it's dinner time."
Amy sniffed, wiping her eyes. "Fuck you!"
The figure tutted under it's breath and sighed. "Bad girl. No barking unless I tell you." It depressed a control on the box.
Amy's body convulsed and a scream forced it's way through clenched teeth as the shock collar delivered a massive jolt of electricity. She could feel a warmth spreading from her crotch.
"Now then. Let's begin again shall we. It's dinner time, and pets don't get dinner without asking nicely. Now, beg for mummy."
Slowly, hesitantly, Amy forced her unwilling muscles to act. Levering herself to her knees, she looked up at the figure. A woman; lanky, with a thin, cruel face and boyishly short, dark hair. The face was familiar, where had she seen it before? swallowing, she brought her hands up to a pleading gesture, and forcing her tear stained and swollen face into an appealing expression. 'I will get out of this' she thought,' Whatever the fuck it is'.
Her captor gazed at her for what seemed like an age, before her lips creased into a smile. "Good girl. Now, you stay there, while mummy puts your food in the stand".
She stepped around Amy, her eyes never leaving the kneeling form of her victim as she placed the bowl she held onto the stand next to the water. With her now free hand, she stroked Amy's shoulder length, black hair, stopping at the green dyed tips, lifting them up to examine in the flickering light before allowing the hair to run through her fingers. Amy flinched at the touch, feeling tears burn in the corner of her eyes and her stomach lurch again. "Such an unusual coat" her captor whispered, you really are an unusual breed." She started backing towards the door, an expression on her face that Amy could only call adoring asher eyes lingered on her kneeling figure.
"You eat up now", she said, raising her hand and waving, "Mummy will be back later to give you a bath since you had a little.. accident."
Amy forced her self to move, forced her screaming body upright, stumbling as she tried to throw herself at her captor. It wasn't enough, her captor hit the collars control as she registered her movement.
© Copyright 2016 Adrian Whitehill (ghostbear at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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