but couldn’t see James or the homeowner.
Rick heard what sounded like paper being ruffled or pages of a book turning.
A moment later, when his captor started chanting rhythmically, Rick began to realize what was happening behind him. At first he shook off the idea, it seemed too crazy to be plausible. But after a moment, there was no question as to just what the man was doing. Rick turned his head again, straining hard to see over his shoulder but having no success.
He thought about jerking his body to try and twist the chair but decided that even if he had the strength to do it, the chance of tipping the chair over and slamming his face into the concrete floor was too great to risk it yet. And besides that, he wasn’t completely sure he wanted to see what was happening.
Long strings of words in another language filled the room, each round of foreign words punctuated by the man crying out “I offer myself to you.”
That decree itself was followed by the man grunting. A wet sound, the sound of metal scraping rock, another groan.
The process was repeated three times, the man’s voice riddled with deep breaths and gaining in fervor as he went on.
“I offer this soul to you,” the man bellowed. There was another sickly wet sound and a moan, and without seeing a thing Rick knew that James had just been killed.
Silence crept through the basement, only broken by the heavy breathing of Rick’s captor.
Then the smells came.
The homeowner started gagging at once, choking on the putrid stench of sulfur and shit, burnt hair and rotten meat. Rick assumed that his blood had clogged much of his nose, but the smell was still almost unbearable and he fought back the urge to vomit.
A moment passed, and then Rick realized that the room was growing warmer by the second. Sweat was beginning to pour from his pores as a low rumbling noise began to echo off the bare walls. His heart began to race with panic.
The man was screaming with joy now. “It worked! I can’t believe it!”
“Get me out of this fucking chair, man,” Rick screamed over his shoulder. “It worked, right? You don’t need me! Let me go, man!”
The man didn’t respond to the pleas. He just continued with his jubilation, cackling like a madman as the smells grew stronger and the heat grew more profound.
The rumbling noise stopped suddenly and there was a split second of silence that was followed by an immense sucking sound, as if the room itself was taking a deep breath. The sound was short lived, however, and ended as violently as the entire ordeal had begun.
A silent flash of heat and force erupted from behind Rick so powerful that it sent him flipping, chair and all, across the room. For the first time that night luck blessed him, and when he slammed into the wall it was back first, shattering the chair and knocking the air from his lungs. A black wave washed over him and he teetered on the verge of unconsciousness once more, fighting against it until he began to slip back into reality.
He tried to move but couldn’t - his vision had become a cloudy grey blur, able to make out indistinguishable shapes but unable to focus on anything. At the moment his hearing was the only sense that seemed to be functioning for him, and he heard the homeowner speak from across the room.
“It worked,” the man said.
The swarming sound of a million flies and bees replied, forming words from the hellish noise; a buzzing insect horde speaking with its wings.
“Yes.” Was all it said.
“And…you can help me,” the man said. There was hope in his voice.
Hope was also creeping into Rick’s limbs, as they began to respond to his desires. His arms and legs were regaining feeling, and he pushed himself up onto his knees.
“It is not my place to help you.” Each word came independent of the others, slowly fading in and then out of the constant swarming sound that was growing louder with each second.
Rick’s vision
Rick heard what sounded like paper being ruffled or pages of a book turning.
A moment later, when his captor started chanting rhythmically, Rick began to realize what was happening behind him. At first he shook off the idea, it seemed too crazy to be plausible. But after a moment, there was no question as to just what the man was doing. Rick turned his head again, straining hard to see over his shoulder but having no success.
He thought about jerking his body to try and twist the chair but decided that even if he had the strength to do it, the chance of tipping the chair over and slamming his face into the concrete floor was too great to risk it yet. And besides that, he wasn’t completely sure he wanted to see what was happening.
Long strings of words in another language filled the room, each round of foreign words punctuated by the man crying out “I offer myself to you.”
That decree itself was followed by the man grunting. A wet sound, the sound of metal scraping rock, another groan.
The process was repeated three times, the man’s voice riddled with deep breaths and gaining in fervor as he went on.
“I offer this soul to you,” the man bellowed. There was another sickly wet sound and a moan, and without seeing a thing Rick knew that James had just been killed.
Silence crept through the basement, only broken by the heavy breathing of Rick’s captor.
Then the smells came.
The homeowner started gagging at once, choking on the putrid stench of sulfur and shit, burnt hair and rotten meat. Rick assumed that his blood had clogged much of his nose, but the smell was still almost unbearable and he fought back the urge to vomit.
A moment passed, and then Rick realized that the room was growing warmer by the second. Sweat was beginning to pour from his pores as a low rumbling noise began to echo off the bare walls. His heart began to race with panic.
The man was screaming with joy now. “It worked! I can’t believe it!”
“Get me out of this fucking chair, man,” Rick screamed over his shoulder. “It worked, right? You don’t need me! Let me go, man!”
The man didn’t respond to the pleas. He just continued with his jubilation, cackling like a madman as the smells grew stronger and the heat grew more profound.
The rumbling noise stopped suddenly and there was a split second of silence that was followed by an immense sucking sound, as if the room itself was taking a deep breath. The sound was short lived, however, and ended as violently as the entire ordeal had begun.
A silent flash of heat and force erupted from behind Rick so powerful that it sent him flipping, chair and all, across the room. For the first time that night luck blessed him, and when he slammed into the wall it was back first, shattering the chair and knocking the air from his lungs. A black wave washed over him and he teetered on the verge of unconsciousness once more, fighting against it until he began to slip back into reality.
He tried to move but couldn’t - his vision had become a cloudy grey blur, able to make out indistinguishable shapes but unable to focus on anything. At the moment his hearing was the only sense that seemed to be functioning for him, and he heard the homeowner speak from across the room.
“It worked,” the man said.
The swarming sound of a million flies and bees replied, forming words from the hellish noise; a buzzing insect horde speaking with its wings.
“Yes.” Was all it said.
“And…you can help me,” the man said. There was hope in his voice.
Hope was also creeping into Rick’s limbs, as they began to respond to his desires. His arms and legs were regaining feeling, and he pushed himself up onto his knees.
“It is not my place to help you.” Each word came independent of the others, slowly fading in and then out of the constant swarming sound that was growing louder with each second.
Rick’s vision
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