Random Short Story

I wrote this during Junior year for an assignement.

In the lower reaches of Castle Lorenium, a young man stirs from his slumber. He finds himself trapped in darkness, unknowing of the horrors around him. He didn't recall the past evening, or how he came to be in the blackened room. Steadily, he limps across the room, looking for a way out. He feels the cold, damp wall for a door. He hears the handle jingling. But when he went to open the door, the room flooded with light.

He now sees what was surrounding him. Beaten, mutilated corpses littered the room. Some bodies were fresh, while others were festering slabs of human flesh. some of their blood trickled from the ceiling, pooling on the floor below. The young man fell to the floor, terrfied. It was too much for him to handle. He held his hands over his face, shouting, over and over, "This isn't real! This isn't Real!" He began to sob uncontrollably. He knew no one would come to take him from this horrid scene of death and torture.

Hours past. The young man had curled up in a ball by the door. The room was once again shrouded by darkness. The only sound he could hear were the rats, eating away at the corpses. He tried futilely to get some rest, but the images he had seen haunted him. He just laid there, by the unopened door, in a ball.

"I'm going to die here," He told himself. He sat up, holding his legs close to him. "I'm going to die here." He hit the door with his fist. His fear grew in anger; anger at himself, for letting something like this happen. He hit the door again, and again, and again! He didn't care that his hand was breaking under the force, nor that the door was chipping away slowly. He wished to dispel the anger from him. Finally, his hand busted through the wooden door.

He stood, gazing at the hole as if it were his hope, fading. Angrily, he kicked the door. It wouldn't budge. He kicked it again. Still, it refused. He kicked one more time with all the might he could muster. The door broke off it's hunges, crashing to the ground. A cloud of dust shot up from the floor, and the rats flew into a panic. He ran from the room, running from the corpses as if they were chasing him.

Flickering torches on the wall dimly lighted the corridors he barreled down. He could see the remains of the others who had been chained up. But he dared no stop. He ran and ran, praying that he could escape. "I will not die down here!" He shouted. "I will not die down here!" As he shouted these words of encouragement to himself, blood-red eyes further down glowed in the darkness. This thing just snarled, waiting for his prey.


(More to come)

: That's interesting, well I hope he makes it out okay....

The man ran hurriedly, continuously, from the room. He could feel a cold wind coming from the corridor ahead of him. He started down it, but stopped when he heard a faint moaning. He bit his lip. He knew he was close to the exit, the chilling wing tempting him. But he knew he couldn't leave someone to endure the same hiorros he did; at least, not alone. He dashed down the hall, the moaning getting louder. When he came upon a decaying wooden door, he burst through it, using his body as a battering ram. He grabbed one of the wall torches and held it high over his head. It's light reached the edges of the room. On the floor laid a young maiden. Her clothes were tattered and body beaten. The young man rummaged around for some sort of cloth to tend to her wounds.

(After this, we learn of the man's name, and who this young maiden is.)