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The night was closing in.
Outside, the wind an the rain pounded against the window with relentless force, and the man standing beside the window was contemplating his next move. For the past two weeks he had been stalking her, watching her every move, getting to know her schedule, until finally he took his chance. While no one was watching he took the opportunity and pulled his van up beside her as she was leaving work, and in an instant she was gone.
Now, tied and gagged, she was his prisoner. Helpless beyond all control, she had no choice but to do whatever he said. For the past four days she had not only been forced to listen to the ravings of a madman, but been raped more times than she cared to count. He would always leave for a couple of hours and then come back with a small brown bag, and then disappear into the next room for about forty-five minutes, and then she knew that the next thing that he would do was to force himself upon her. He always seemed different when he came out of the other room. He spoke with a different tone, and always acted more aggressive, and those are the times that she wished that she were dead.
Today, the fifth day, was different though. All day long he had been talking in riddles, taunting her with promises of release and freedom. About three in the afternoon he came back from one of his daily excursions with his usual small brown bag, and after about half an hour he came out of the unknown room with a smile on his face.
"You've been very patient for the past few days, for that i'm very grateful. But now, I'd like for you to meet someone.", and with that he walked to her and put a pillow under her head so that she could get a clear view of the room which had been separated by a dingy blue blanket hung in the doorway. He seemed very excited about this moment, as if his entire existence had been a build up to this exact moment.
"Close your eyes." he said in a tone that demanded authority and attention.
She could hear his footsteps moving away from her and towards the shrouded doorway. The sounds of something scraping on the floor reminded her of a handful of wet sand between two panes of glass being rubbed together. There was a loud 'THUMP' that seemed to echo against the hardwood floors and throughout the seemingly empty house. A strange odor waifed into her nostrils and sent a wave of nausea though her. It reminded her of the time when she was fifteen and she and her cousin had taken a walk down by the stream. They used to visit this particular part of her uncles' land for the secrecy so that they could smoke a joint or two and not worry about anyone walking up on them. This one particular summer day they had walked to their usual place, with a couple of J's to make the day go by faster, and they were about half way through the first smoke when the light breeze that had been blowing suddenly shifted directions and brought with it a smell that didn't quite mingle very well with them. Staggering, they followed their noses until they came across the source of the offending smell. Laying in the river water was the bloated remains of a wolf that had been shot in the left shoulder and had ran from its attacker only to die alone. The coolness of the water had kept it fromp erupting in the summer heat, but had failed to stop the maggots from infesting the now gaping wound in the now lifeless carcass.
She wanted to open her eyes to see just what he had in plan for her, but the more that she weighed her decisions, the better that she thought that her best bet wold be to keep them closed....for her own safety. She could feel his presence as he strode up beside her, occasionally snickering to himself.
"Keep your eyes closed, I've got a surprise for you." He heated himself on a grey milk crate and lowered his head to her ear. "I want you to listen, and listen good. When I tell you to open your eyes, I want you to do so very slowly, and I suggest that if you want to keep your pretty little head on those pretty little shoulders of yours you'd best not make any sound, understand?" She nodded in terrified agreement. "Good." He paused, "When I count to three I wan you to open your eyes and look directly at the foot of the bed." She nodded again, forcing back the tears that had been swelling up inside of her for the past five days.
"One...." she wondered if she would live to see her boyfriend again...
"...two...." ...yes, she knew that this was some crazy dream and that maybe she'd wake up drenched in sweat and have it all end and forgotten about by tomorrow morning. Yes, that was it, and a hint of a smile crept across her face.
He paused....looked over at her, "...three..."
She opened her eyes and looked. Sitting in an armed chair was the bloated remains of what once might've been a very lovely woman. Her once white dress was stained down the front with dried blood. On her neck she wore a cameo that was awkwardly repositioned higher on her neck only to display the large gash that stretched across her throat. Her once auburn hair was matted and crusty with blood. Her once hazel eyes which had seen such sights as the Eiffel Tower, The White House and the Pyramids were now clouded over and only stared into the emptiness of forever.
She strained against the ropes which were binding her. The ghastly sight before her made her want to scream, but each time she opened her mouth nothing would come out.
"Surprise." he said and got up and walked behind the thing in the chair. He looked down at the corpse and gave it a light kiss on the forehead, "This young lady's name is Sandy. I just thought I'd introduce you to her to make sure that she would approve of you." He smiled. "You see, I love women. I can't seem to get enough, so now I collect them." He walked over to the curtained doorway and pulled back the blanket. In the room beyond were at least a dozen women...all dead. The most recent looking one was tied in a chair, on the floor around her were bags upon bags of cotton balls. This time there was no holding back and she screamed. Seconds later the laughter of a madman joined with her screams as she realized that this was a dream from which there would be no waking from.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know this story isn't exactly "award winning" but I wrote it a long time ago and this is how it originally appeared, the only thing I've done to it is correct a few typos.
Facts about this story:
* This was the first short story I'd ever written(and finished)in late 1994.
* I got the name Henry from the serial killer Henry Lee Lucas.
* There was a second and third part of this story that was unfortunately lost when my old computer (at the time) crashed.
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