Scenes

When I stopped, I found myself face to face with the inanity. Blood pooled on the floor. Chunks of flesh lie in various patterns of unshapely design, muddied within clumps of flayed skin and crumpled bones intermingled. I looked upon the sight, aghast, but I could not keep myself out of view from the form that ran the machine. Grotesque with massive black wings, its red eyes pierced mine, and my heart came up into my stomach. A small line of drool slipped from a set of razor edge teeth embedded in a black face grinning. Twice my size, the thing left its post and moved towards me, and I felt my hands begin to shake uncontrollably. I turned to run, yet for every five steps I moved the thing took one, and I was quickly overcome by its foul grip. I felt pin pricks like needles in my chest, then I heard a series of screams break out–someone else had the vice put on them at that very moment, and so my own pain was overshadowed by the horrific sounds of torment. I thought of how much I loved her, how much I would have died for her, and only the feeling of being carried through the lukewarm rooms of the cave could my body experience. Would I ever get back to her? I was brought to a place where the sound of screaming was even louder, and the swinging axes and the clumping hammers seemed endless. I saw the wide eyes of those about to die and I saw the blood spill, and I gave in to the hope that I might pass out, that I might never get used to such scenes, but my nightmare was wide awake, and I found myself screaming for a moment as well.

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