Bitter Awakening
The apartment was immersed in obscurity, interspersed with tinges of blue and orange lights coming from outside.
The dripping, intermittent sound echoing through the walls.
Back to his feet, Dan was now face to face with the gruesome scene; how could his life change so much in so little time? Was that the price for the idleness befallen into his daily life?
Supporting himself on his left wall, he began to limp towards the half-closed door in front of him, at the end of the corridor.
There were bits of glass and shards of wood in the floor.
Those walls were blotched with large blood splashes and random claw marks...
The scent of chemicals was sprinkled in the air, mixed with another, more diffuse and nauseating smell.
Dan was was contemplating as undoubtedly wise to leave the building when a gush of wind fully opened the door, leaving Dan with the sight of the morbid set.
In front of him, to the right, there were a couple of ears cut cleanly off, and an array of internal organs spilled across the floor in an immense pool of blood.
Even more to the right there were two skinned bodies that seemed having the inside out, one of which had a missing head; the other had no feet and its arms had been removed clean off. Despite being thoroughly disgusted and daunted by the cruel spectacle, Dan noticed that the latter was leaner than the other remains, suggesting that it was the corpse of a female.
Their clothing had been reduced to loose coloured rags and threads, showing the open insides.
Further ahead there was a severed head... a recognizable head.
It had been ripped out from its body not long ago, and was now hanging at the top of the washing machine, dripping blood.
It was that man only a few hours ago was exploring the village with him. Eliah Pecora. Poor man, who seemed to be dismissing the strange state of the village and was now nothing more than a heap.
What to think of all this? In his journalistic journeys Dan had encountered his fair share of sordid stories, but something like this present situation was something that he could never imagine witnessing. What had happened to the dead bodies was definitely not natural. What in the world could had caused this ?
Run. Run. As fast as he could. Beside the kitchen stand, at the left, there were wide-open windows, covered by their pale white-green drapes floating due to the wind. Dodging that macabre scene, he ran to the windows to find a balcony that would lead to some stairs. Jumping through the window, he found the balcony to be old and precarious.
The kitchen stand was crawling with ants, trailing around in zigzags between the knives, spoons, other cutlery and a broken set of dishes and glasses; strewn all over the L shaped floor there were carrots, radishes, onions, tomatoes, lettuces, asparaguses and cucumbers. The unclosed water tap provided the dripping sound.
Ducking, he immediately grabbed the first step and began climbing down.
Dan finally left the chaotic, doomed place, using the emergency ladder, located at the outer side of the building. Descending quickly, he then reached an alley, next to the building. Upon touching the floor, he ran towards the parked bike, intent on riding aimlessly to the next town. He was running now in panic, as he was trying to hold himself in order to not cry tears of anguish.
As he crossed the corner, there was the indigo coloured bike. Without breath, he stopped to sparsely recover his breathing. He knew he was sick.
- That's a nice bike you got there; the chrome is a damn fine one.... a Honda CBR900RR, if I'm correct. I proudly own a Honda CB900F Hornet, myself. - he heard then, a jolly voice coming from his left side.
The dripping, intermittent sound echoing through the walls.
Back to his feet, Dan was now face to face with the gruesome scene; how could his life change so much in so little time? Was that the price for the idleness befallen into his daily life?
Supporting himself on his left wall, he began to limp towards the half-closed door in front of him, at the end of the corridor.
There were bits of glass and shards of wood in the floor.
Those walls were blotched with large blood splashes and random claw marks...
The scent of chemicals was sprinkled in the air, mixed with another, more diffuse and nauseating smell.
Dan was was contemplating as undoubtedly wise to leave the building when a gush of wind fully opened the door, leaving Dan with the sight of the morbid set.
In front of him, to the right, there were a couple of ears cut cleanly off, and an array of internal organs spilled across the floor in an immense pool of blood.
Even more to the right there were two skinned bodies that seemed having the inside out, one of which had a missing head; the other had no feet and its arms had been removed clean off. Despite being thoroughly disgusted and daunted by the cruel spectacle, Dan noticed that the latter was leaner than the other remains, suggesting that it was the corpse of a female.
Their clothing had been reduced to loose coloured rags and threads, showing the open insides.
Further ahead there was a severed head... a recognizable head.
It had been ripped out from its body not long ago, and was now hanging at the top of the washing machine, dripping blood.
It was that man only a few hours ago was exploring the village with him. Eliah Pecora. Poor man, who seemed to be dismissing the strange state of the village and was now nothing more than a heap.
What to think of all this? In his journalistic journeys Dan had encountered his fair share of sordid stories, but something like this present situation was something that he could never imagine witnessing. What had happened to the dead bodies was definitely not natural. What in the world could had caused this ?
Run. Run. As fast as he could. Beside the kitchen stand, at the left, there were wide-open windows, covered by their pale white-green drapes floating due to the wind. Dodging that macabre scene, he ran to the windows to find a balcony that would lead to some stairs. Jumping through the window, he found the balcony to be old and precarious.
The kitchen stand was crawling with ants, trailing around in zigzags between the knives, spoons, other cutlery and a broken set of dishes and glasses; strewn all over the L shaped floor there were carrots, radishes, onions, tomatoes, lettuces, asparaguses and cucumbers. The unclosed water tap provided the dripping sound.
Ducking, he immediately grabbed the first step and began climbing down.
Dan finally left the chaotic, doomed place, using the emergency ladder, located at the outer side of the building. Descending quickly, he then reached an alley, next to the building. Upon touching the floor, he ran towards the parked bike, intent on riding aimlessly to the next town. He was running now in panic, as he was trying to hold himself in order to not cry tears of anguish.
As he crossed the corner, there was the indigo coloured bike. Without breath, he stopped to sparsely recover his breathing. He knew he was sick.
- That's a nice bike you got there; the chrome is a damn fine one.... a Honda CBR900RR, if I'm correct. I proudly own a Honda CB900F Hornet, myself. - he heard then, a jolly voice coming from his left side.
posted by tensayoki @ 14:37
