Words Worth A Thousand Pictures

Crushing the Cliche That A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

Archive for the category “Horrific”

Revelation

Childhood sweethearts, they had married in the spring of 1927. He looked deeply into her eyes and was happy.

On the train coming home from their honeymoon, a man with desperate eyes shoved a gun into their faces and demanded money. Without thinking, he pushed the gun aside and tackled the man, then pummeled him until the police arrived.

She told him he was a brave man.

After university he secured an excellent job as a factory manager. She bore him two children within three years.

They were content. He came home every evening to an immaculate home and was greeted by a warm smile and embrace.

By 1934, neighbors started looking at her differently. He overheard snippets of guiltily whispered conversations: “…black hair…nose…star…”

By 1936, she wondered why he no longer looked her in the eyes when they made love and why he resisted family outings.

In 1940 a friend in the Gestapo secretly handed him a note at a party. Hands shaking, he opened it in the bathroom. It read: “They know.”

When they got home that night, he told her to take the children to the park in the morning.

He kissed them goodbye that morning, then watched them leave through the window. As soon as they were out of site, he rushed to his bedroom to pack.

After finishing, he scoured the house for every document he could find that connected them. As he was feeding them into the fire, his eyes fell on her old diaries, from which their love letters protruded.

He lay down and began reading them. Lazy summer afternoons at the lake. Whispered promises under the stars. Nervous caresses. Shared dreams. First kiss and first realizations. Naive, heartfelt, authentic.

With a sigh, he dropped the last one into the flames, then went into the bathroom to wash his hands. He didn’t look up into the mirror.

He grabbed his bag and newly-prepared documents, took one last look behind him from the front door, taped the yellow star onto the door, and disappeared.

Advertisements

You Won’t Feel a Thing

The pretty brunette nurse, radiating motherly comfort, chatted pleasantries while she set up the machine.

“Now don’t worry,” she assured me, “you won’t feel a thing.”

I smiled back at her, feeling cozy under the blanket. I wondered if I’d be able to sleep through it.

But when she flipped the switch, a thousand lightning bolts shattered my brain.

The pulses froze my muscles. I couldn’t move or speak.

The nurses stood gossiping quietly and discussing after-work plans as I shrieked and wailed inside my head.

I was trapped inside myself with no way to communicate to the nurses that I was being fried alive from the inside. Horror strangled me.

I bloodied my fists, elbows, knees, forehead against the interior wall of my skull, screaming at them to let me out.

Needles, flames, plyers, hack saws, machetes, hammers, meat hooks, thumb screws collided inside my body, swirling and ripping, clawing and slashing, pounding and scorching, piercing and hacking, squeezing and slicing.

I was boiling and suffocating in pain. Red, hot, frothing, vicious, twisting, torturous torment. My insides writhed and thrashed and melted.

It felt like I had turned inside out and I was gushing and splattering all over the ceiling and walls, erupting nerves, sinew, tissue, organs, blood onto the floor.

And all the while my face, body, eyes are fiercely gripped, locked tight, frozen by the electricity.

Inside my mind I’m jerking, writhing, howling, screeching, bawling, begging, pleading for them to FLIP THE SWITCH! DEAR GOD PLEASE JUST LET ME DIE! TAKE IT AWAY! MAKE IT STOP! OH PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!

After the stipulated six minutes, the nurse switched off the switch and said gently, “There, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Post Navigation