Beyond Sanit-E 4/Beyond Sanit-E 4 (Disk 2 of 2).adf/TXTdata/TormentedSouls.txt/TormentedSouls.txt

Text File | 1992-09-02 | 5.9 KB | 185 lines

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           TORMENTED SOULS
*3@1]5
           by Shaun Watters
*1]1@4
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@1

Henry   J.   Harper  was  a  convicted
rapist and murderer.  He was sentenced
to   life   imprisonment  by  an  old,
balding  grey faced judge.  During his
trial  he never uttered a single word,
only  sat,  slumped  in  a  chair eyes
fixed  upon  the  men  and  women that
decided his damned fate.  A fate which
Henry  J.  Harper accepted with unseen
anticipation.

It was his tenth month of imprisonment
when it started.  Voices in the night,
calling  to him in his dreams, begging
him  for  release.   Henry  J.  Harper
cursed  them, as he had cursed them at
their   agonizing,   tortured  deaths.
Those  tormented  souls which Henry J.
Harper  had  condemned to an unresting
afterlife begged for his evil, twisted
soul  so  that  they might leave their
state of limbo and finally find peace.
Henry  J.   Harper only cursed them to
damnation.

It was then when those tormented souls
choose  upon  a  more  direct  form of
action.
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It   started   at  first  with  unseen
spectral hands clasping his flesh with
a  penetrating  coldness  that chilled
him  to  his very roots of his sanity.
By all accounts Henry J.  Harper was a
rational   man.    He   committed  his
hainous  acts  of  sexual violence and
brutal  murder with no sign of emotion
apparent  upon  his  features.  Indeed
anyone who looked upon his face became
transfixed with horror.  For his blue,
black  eyes radiated pure, unblemished
evil to anyone who gazed upon them.

Yet fear and self pity were evident in
his  eyes  now.   Screaming,  pleading
with  his  unseen  captors as his body
was slowly raised from his bunk.
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"HELP ME OH GOD HELP ME!"@1 he screamed.
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"WE SEEK REVENGE FOR OUR TORMENT"@1 came
the reply.
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"GUARDS!!!!  GUARDS!!!!  HELP ME!!!!"
@1
Hands  tore  at  his  pink cool flesh.
Bloodied chunks came from him.  Now he
hung  in  the air above a crimson pool
of  his  own  still  warm  blood.  The
hands then moved to his face, scraping
and  gorging at his lips, his nose and
his  eyes.   Mouths  now  covered  his
numerous  wounds  sucking and slurping
at  his  life's blood.  Then they went
lower  down  his  naked  form  seeking
that,  which in times past had brought
them  unbarable  pain and their victim
unholy  fulfilment,  and they rejoiced
in his anguish.

They  stripped  this tiny organ of its
flesh  leaving  only  a  limp bloodied
stump.   Then this they tore away from
his body.  Henry J.  Harper raised his
hands  to his groin to stem the blood,
to  stop his lifeforce ebbing from his
body.   Blood now covered the walls of
his  cell.  His now lifeless penis lay
scattered  among  his  few possessions
that   were  strewn  across  the  cold
concrete  floor.  Even now when it was
little  more than a memory of his past
evil  achievements  he  could not help
but  feel remorse as a large black rat
scurried  towards  it, locked its jaws
around  it  and slid back to the dark,
shadowed corner to devour its prize.

On  and  on  they  tormented this man,
this  evil  presence given form.  Like
him  they  did  not  pay  heed  to his
pitiful   sobs.    On   and   on  they
continued   until   they   heard   the
rattling  of  metal  against  metal to
their  left  and then they knew it was
time  to leave.  Although they had not
found  their  release  they  knew they
could wait, after all what was time to
them?

The   prison  warden  awoke  from  his
slumber  from  the cries of one of his
"guests" @3 "For  fucks  sake,  what the
fuck's  going on?"@1 he shouted, angerly
down the corridor which contained rows
upon  rows  of cells.  Small festering
dwellings  that  contained  the  worst
breed   of   scum   on   the   planet,
murderers,  rapists, child abusers and
mass murderers.

I'm  not  in the fuckin' mood for this
tonight, he swore silently to himself.
Fuck  em', he thought and settled down
to drift once more into sweet slumber.
Once  more  his eyelids jolted open as
more   screams  pierced  the  silence.
@3"Shiit..."@1  He  clambered  up from his
warm,   comfortable  reclining  office
chair,  wiped yellow sticky fluid from
his   eyes.    Strapping  his  gunbelt
around his waist he reached across his
desk  and grasped a large set of keys.
Then  with  a  silent curse started to
make his way down the long corridor.

He  inserted  the  keys  into the cell
door,  the cell which had up until now
been  ringing  with  the soul chilling
screams  of  a man, obviously in great
pain.   The screams which had abruptly
stopped.
With one hand on his gun he opened the
door and peered into the darkness.  As
his   eyes   slowly  adjusted  to  the
blackness he became aware of an odour.
A  stench  of  death  and  destruction
which   came  over  him  in  waves  of
repulsiveness.  It was then he saw the
disembowled  figure lying in a pool of
its  own  blood.  In horror the warden
collapsed in the doorway.
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Henry J.  Harper awoke to find himself
engulfed  in  darkness.   He  tried to
focus  with  eyes that could no longer
see.   He  tried to raise himself with
arms  which  were  now  no  more  than
ghostly  apparitions.   He  cried  out
into  the  darkness  with a voice that
could  no  longer  make a sound.  With
that voice he begged for release.

The  souls of the dead, damned to walk
the  afterlife neverending smiled.  It
was  not  a smile from long lost faces
but  a  smile  of  their entire being.
For   now  they  knew  that  Henry  J.
Harper  would suffer pain neverending,
beg  for  forgiveness  every moment of
consciousness, forgiveness which would
never  be  granted, at least until his
death  which would be many, many years
away.   When  he  is  finally  granted
release  from  his  tortured existence
these  tormented  souls  would  gather
around  him and once again ask for his
soul so that they too may find peace.
]3
But  for the moment they were happy to
wait.