Seven Psychos Slashing

On the Seventh Day of Creepfest, my true love gave to me...

Seven Psychos Slashing
Six Demon Soldiers
Five Creepy Dolls!
Foure Werewolves Howling
Three French Fried Eyeballs
Two Corpses Walking
And a Zombie Hanging From A Christmas Tree!

No contest today. Just a story. Paul Dail, this one is for you, although I don't think this counts as child torture...unless you meant a psychotic child.

Hanging from the ceiling were cats. When I first opened my eyes, I thought I was dreaming. I had taken some valium to deaden the pain in my leg, along with some alcohol. Okay, a lot of alcohol. I drank a whole bottle of Jack. It just seemed the best way to get through the holiday. It wouldn't be the first Christmas I spent comatose and unless my situation changed, it wouldn't be the last.

Something woke me up though. The first thing I saw was Fluffy, or whatever the damn things name was. Then I saw the others, hanging from the ceiling, blood still dripping from some. Others were bled dry. They all were strung up by their tails, their faces froze in some ghastly, cat grimace of pain.

Fluffy was dripping blood on my face. It was a slow drip. Most of it's blood was already on the floor, but what was left was doing a good, yet twisted impression of the Chinese Water Torture.

Okay, maybe this would be my last. My first instinct was to panic and I managed that in spades. I screamed. Man, did I scream. And then I cried, begging God, if God existed, to free me from this hellish nightmare.

I was strapped to a table and I struggled against my bonds, pulling against the leather straps until I felt them cutting into my wrists. The blood acted as lubrication and I felt my wrists beginning to slip free. At last I heard a sickening pop, the sound of my thumb breaking and my right wrist slid loose. I was still tethered to the table by my left and my right hand was useless to help it. I was now able to manuver my body so that I could gnaw at the strap with my teeth. It was when I was halfway through the strap, my teeth bloodied, some broken, that I saw her.

Amelia. My neighbors ten year old daughter. She was just sitting there, watching. When she saw me, she smiled. Her teeth shined in the dark. So did the gleam in her eyes. She was enjoying my pain. Then she spoke.

"You're funny."

"Sweetie, help me." I hadn't yet fully realized the danger I was in. I had always assumed the girl was retarded. She hardly ever spoke.

"Why?"

"So we can get out of here, before whoever did this to me comes back."

"But I'm already here." And then she stood up and stepped into the light. She had a knife in her hand. "I was getting bored with cats. And mommy died too fast. What happened to your leg?"

I looked down at my leg. It was twisted, a reminder of a war long gone.

"Does it hurt? Is that why you drink?"

I didn't answer her. The gleam in her eye scared me...and the knife, which she was holding too close to me. I reached out with my hand to grab it, but she danced out of my way, laughing.

"You are more fun. Now let's see what's going on with your leg."

She laughed then. It was the last sound I heard before I passed out. When I woke up, my leg was gone. She's not done yet. A finger here...a toe. My eyes. She's says she wants to be a doctor and she needs to learn about the human body.

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