- Pronoun
- she/her
I wrote this in my writing course at school and generally liked the basic concept, so I thought I might as well share it here as well.
It's basically an original short story that has to speak for itself. I'm not sure about the title; I hadn't made one and just tacked on something semi-appropriate when making this thread, so bear with me on that. (Suggestions would be nice.)
He didn’t know where he was.
He blinked a few times and turned his head; the pitch darkness of the – well, whatever the place was – didn’t change one bit whether his eyes were open or closed. He came to the conclusion he was lying on some kind of a surface, in a sort of a heap, like a ragdoll that had been thrown aside, but that didn’t tell him very much. After feeling it blindly with his hands, he deduced that seemed to be a rough, rocky cave floor, which did not tell him very much useful either.
He sat up and tried to remember how he’d gotten there, but everything seemed cloudy. He had a hazy idea in the back of his mind of who he was – he didn’t feel like he had amnesia, at least – but it didn’t seem to be important for the time being. He couldn’t recall doing anything specific in his life, but was still quite sure he had done things. He knew that London was the capital of England, that the French Revolution had started in 1789, that the past tense of catch was caught and that he was of the species Homo sapiens. And he was confident that he knew how to drive a car. He knew how he had presumably learned all those things, but couldn’t recall any particular moment of the process. He pondered the oddity of this for a moment, but quickly concluded that it was not of especial significance and he was not very likely to get anywhere trying to figure it out anyway, and instead turned back to the problem of where he was exactly.
He stood shakily up and found his body felt weaker than it ought to; had he been drugged somehow? It took him a few moments to realize he was also starving and very thirsty, but he wished he hadn’t realized it because it was only now that it became truly uncomfortable. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and it took some concentration to release enough saliva to get it loose again. He tried to speak, but his voice refused to come out as more than a pathetic squeak.
This was getting quite unnerving.
He made his way aimlessly forward on unsteady feet and nearly fell when he unexpectedly bumped into a rough wall. This, at least, was a start to figuring this cave out: he felt his way along the wall, which was curved, and quickly discovered that the room he was in was unmistakably too round for it to be a coincidence: not a natural cave, then, but some sort of a man-made one. Feeling energized at the thought he had made some sort of progress, he discovered a rather narrow tunnel leading outwards near the floor, something he could definitely crawl through.
It wasn’t until he was lying down to get through it that he properly became aware of the fact he was naked. He winced, feeling the sharp ridges in the rocky surface sting into his skin in various places, and for a moment seriously considered just waiting in there – even if he got through the tunnel without seriously injuring himself, what would he say to the person he would inevitably have to ask for help once he found them to explain why he was naked and bleeding?
Starving to death in a cave, on the other hand, did not seem like a very viable option, and he couldn’t help getting the impression people weren’t exactly likely to find him in there on their own accord. He had no way of communicating from the inside. He had to get out if he was going to live.
That was a very sobering conclusion, as he did not recall ever having been in a situation where he had to do something unpleasant to save his life before, not that he was entirely sure he would be able to recall it if it had happened. In any case it seemed like a kind of divine test of his worth.
He lay firmly down and began to push himself in through the tunnel, wincing as the sharp rocks cut him, and prayed for it not to be a very long tunnel. After an agonizing while, he found that the tunnel was beginning to widen, allowing him to first walk on all fours, which was considerably more comfortable, and finally to stand up and just bend his head. And it was not until the tunnel was wide enough for him to walk comfortably upright that he realized that it wasn’t as dark anymore: there was, quite literally, light somewhere at the end of the tunnel, and a dim reflection of it was making some parts of his field of vision a little more dark gray than the black shadows.
He hastened along; turning at one point, he could see light falling directly onto a section of the wall ahead, and after practically running towards it and nearly tripping, he finally found himself facing light outside –
Through bars.
The sight flabbergasted him to the point of stopping to stare. A gust of wind twirled the sand outside around, some of it scattering across the rocky cave floor on the other side of the thick metal bars; he could feel a faint, pleasantly warm whisper of the same wind stroking his bare skin. He couldn’t see anything outside except the sand, and then a bit further away… something that looked like hewn rock?
He heard noises that resembled animal sounds, but the volume and apparent number of the creatures producing them seemed decidedly odd for animal behavior as he was meant to understand it: he was oddly reminded of hooligans at a football game. It didn’t quite make any sort of connection in his brain. He walked, now slowly and more cautiously – after all, the bars seemed to make it clear that somebody had willingly imprisoned him there – towards the mouth of the cave and found himself irritatingly concerned about preserving his dignity as he did, despite the situation: he feebly covered his privates with his hands and tried to approach in an apologetic manner, already making up the quickest possible explanation in his head, in case he found some rescuers and a way out.
Then he heard a something midway between a screech and a roar, deafening, angry and ferocious, and momentarily forgot about all of this as his heart took a sudden lurch in his chest and his balance failed so that needed his hands to support his body against the cave wall.
He waited there for a few seconds, his violent heartbeat audible even through the cries of what he could have sworn was excitement outside, but when the roar did not repeat itself, he inched slowly along the wall, now more concerned about seeing what in the world was outside those bars anyway than about any potential conversational awkwardness later on. He closed his eyes in a brief few indistinguishable words of what might have been prayer or just encouragement to himself – he didn’t really know – and pressed forward for what seemed like quite a long while – then he was startled to find his hand gripping cold metal, and before he had really realized that this must mean he had reached the gate, he had automatically opened his eyes.
His voice appeared to be gone, which was probably a good thing, since if it had not, he would have produced a very unmanly yelp he could never have forgiven himself for. He stared up at the – he’d be damned if it wasn’t a Roman coliseum in its full, absurd glory – and the spectators crowding the seat rows, and his feeble attempts at convincing himself they were human never managed more than to highlight the obvious fact they weren’t: he saw malicious glee glinting in every yellow, lizardine eye, rows of teeth gleaming in long jaws as they snapped in excitement, long tails lashing impatiently around, and this combined with clothes of all things, brightly colored togas covering their bodies as if nothing were more natural. Their forelimbs were short and clawed, and yet they carried them as humans would their hands; the ones that stood had a hunched stance balanced by the tail, and yet they were on their toes to see above the heads of the ones in front of them –
He closed his eyes again, pressed himself back against the cave wall, and tried to ignore the cries of obvious dismay that this elected from the audience. This was somebody’s joke; the CGI team for Jurassic Park was using him as an unknowing test audience for the next film, or maybe somebody had slipped him a mind-altering drug at some point – he was quite happy with that explanation, as it could explain the partial amnesia as well. His breathing slowed down a bit. Okay. This was not real. Once he opened his eyes again, all the creepy lizardmen would be gone, and he would be in some sane place like his bed, or maybe raped and bleeding somewhere in an alleyway, but at least not a gladiator in the world of Raptorjesus.
He had no such luck; the only thing that had changed when he opened his eyes was that the lizardfolk all seemed more impatient, and they began to let out loud, screeching noises which quickly worked up to a rhythmic, inhuman chant of demand as more and more of them joined in. That then abruptly exploded into cheering, and something made him more predisposed to consider this a bad thing than a good one; he could not say it surprised him particularly when another terrifying roar pierced through his ears, and in some bizarre way, it felt almost reassuring to have anticipated it.
He had not anticipated that the metal bars covering the entrance to his cave were about to be raised up to allow him to exit, however, and this made him hesitate long enough to see the approaching dinosaur before doing something stupid like running out.
This thing looked far less like the lizardmen than like your ordinary, hunger-crazed Tyrannosaurus rex, so he did not assume it had a brain capable of grasping any sort of negotiation and just ran screaming back into the cave. He wondered vaguely if Jurassic Park was right about them not seeing you if you didn’t move, but figured it was a stupid movie and not worth risking it.
The dinosaur roared after him, and he felt its hot, foul breath on his back; the smell was nauseating, but he held his breath, turned round the bend in the tunnel and there stopped to breathe while looking quickly back where he had come from. He couldn’t see past the blind turn, which made it a bit of an uncomfortable place to watch from; he retreated further in, still panting, and waited for a few seconds. He could hear the T. Rex’s annoyed growls, but they did not seem to be getting nearer. After a moment, he dared to go closer again, very cautiously, and look round the corner.
Of course. It couldn’t get this far into the cave. It stood there and stared madly ahead; it roared hungrily as it eyed him and tried to squeeze itself farther in, but couldn’t.
This left him really only one option: to retreat deeper into the cave again. He ran along the tunnel, though cautiously enough to make sure he didn’t fall or hit his head on the ceiling, and stopped only when he would no longer be able to continue without crawling on all fours. There he stopped to catch his breath again, drawing in quick gulps of the rather stale air, and thought over his situation.
He was in a cave.
There was a dinosaur at the only exit.
In other words, he was fucked.
After a blank moment he concluded that there was regretfully little else in the situation to think over, and he looked restlessly around, unable to get rid of the persistent feeling that the T. Rex might break in through the ceiling or a weak wall at any moment, or perhaps that they would release a smaller dinosaur that could get in through the cave and tear him to shreds, or maybe just drag him out themselves to hasten his probably no more pleasant death in the jaws of the Tyrannosaurus. Though he felt as if he ought to prefer something quick and messy to the slow agony of starvation, the notion of just being stuck inside a cave, with no dinosaurs involved, seemed like a decidedly more attractive alternative with every moment that passed. He shifted, wondering if perhaps he could go back to the chamber he had started out in and close it off somehow; another roar, sounding distant now, made him jump, crouch down and begin to make his way blindly along the tunnel.
The rocks seemed even sharper now that he was going the other way; they cut into his skin in many places at once, and though he had not really noticed himself bleeding too much the first time around, the air was now heavy with the coppery smell of his blood. He hadn’t remembered the tunnel being nearly as narrow as it was now, either, and it was beginning to be difficult to breathe as he pushed himself through a gap that should have been far too small for him – he felt the sharp edges of the rocks making deep, long cuts in his chest and hips as he squeezed through – and suddenly found his hands groping thin air.
His stomach took a sickening lurch as he lost his balance, and his legs slipped through the hole even as his feet fumbled to stop his fall; his body slammed hard against the slimy rock wall below before he plummeted on downwards, nightmarish terror overshadowing even the pulsing pain in his entire body after the impact. Four long heartbeats of free fall, and then he hit sand, the tiny grains burying themselves painfully into his cuts. He raised his head up, his entire body aching.
Attempting to move his right arm only intensified the throbbing pain, so he wiped the sand off his face with his relatively uninjured left hand and opened his eyes. Everything was swimming before him, but while he tried to regain focus, his brain began to process his other senses again, and he realized uncomfortably that the vague background noise ringing in his ears was the mad cheering of the lizardmen, and that the musky smell of rotten flesh around him was the steady, foul breath of the Tyrannosaurus.
He had only a moment to contemplate the physical impossibility of this before his eyes focused upon the filled coliseum, and he turned his head sharply around – his neck stung with pain – just in time before the beast opened its jaws wide.
--
Name: James Randall Smith
Birth: January 19th 1986
Death: September 14th 2027 (automobile accident)
Occupation: CEO
Primary virtues: NONE
Primary sins: Wrath, envy, adultery, blasphemy, bearing false witness
Worst nightmare: Being eviscerated and devoured by dinosaurs (age 7)
Other fears: Reptiles, darkness, caves, falling, helplessness, social embarrassment, muteness
--
He could only scream, and it did not relieve the pain; the cold sky was dark in the back of his fading vision and the scorching sun no more than a dull spot of white, time passing in desperate, pulsing heartbeats and the torturous throbs of pain accompanying each of them, the slashes of claws and the tearing of teeth, until everything slowed and there was only the burning agony of prolonged death.
--
Sentence: HELL
--
Darkness. Silence. He blinked. He didn’t know where he was.
He felt the ground experimentally and concluded it was a rocky cave floor. He tried to remember how he had gotten there, but he could not really recall anything at all of his life. He did not feel as if he had amnesia – he still knew facts he had learned, and the memories felt just out of reach. It just didn’t seem like his most important concern for the moment.
He sat up and began to feel blindly around with his hands.
--
“Torture any man for long enough, and it will cease to bother him. He should not know what is coming to him, nor why he is subjected to it. No man can feel fear and pain like one who has never felt them before.”
It's basically an original short story that has to speak for itself. I'm not sure about the title; I hadn't made one and just tacked on something semi-appropriate when making this thread, so bear with me on that. (Suggestions would be nice.)
He didn’t know where he was.
He blinked a few times and turned his head; the pitch darkness of the – well, whatever the place was – didn’t change one bit whether his eyes were open or closed. He came to the conclusion he was lying on some kind of a surface, in a sort of a heap, like a ragdoll that had been thrown aside, but that didn’t tell him very much. After feeling it blindly with his hands, he deduced that seemed to be a rough, rocky cave floor, which did not tell him very much useful either.
He sat up and tried to remember how he’d gotten there, but everything seemed cloudy. He had a hazy idea in the back of his mind of who he was – he didn’t feel like he had amnesia, at least – but it didn’t seem to be important for the time being. He couldn’t recall doing anything specific in his life, but was still quite sure he had done things. He knew that London was the capital of England, that the French Revolution had started in 1789, that the past tense of catch was caught and that he was of the species Homo sapiens. And he was confident that he knew how to drive a car. He knew how he had presumably learned all those things, but couldn’t recall any particular moment of the process. He pondered the oddity of this for a moment, but quickly concluded that it was not of especial significance and he was not very likely to get anywhere trying to figure it out anyway, and instead turned back to the problem of where he was exactly.
He stood shakily up and found his body felt weaker than it ought to; had he been drugged somehow? It took him a few moments to realize he was also starving and very thirsty, but he wished he hadn’t realized it because it was only now that it became truly uncomfortable. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and it took some concentration to release enough saliva to get it loose again. He tried to speak, but his voice refused to come out as more than a pathetic squeak.
This was getting quite unnerving.
He made his way aimlessly forward on unsteady feet and nearly fell when he unexpectedly bumped into a rough wall. This, at least, was a start to figuring this cave out: he felt his way along the wall, which was curved, and quickly discovered that the room he was in was unmistakably too round for it to be a coincidence: not a natural cave, then, but some sort of a man-made one. Feeling energized at the thought he had made some sort of progress, he discovered a rather narrow tunnel leading outwards near the floor, something he could definitely crawl through.
It wasn’t until he was lying down to get through it that he properly became aware of the fact he was naked. He winced, feeling the sharp ridges in the rocky surface sting into his skin in various places, and for a moment seriously considered just waiting in there – even if he got through the tunnel without seriously injuring himself, what would he say to the person he would inevitably have to ask for help once he found them to explain why he was naked and bleeding?
Starving to death in a cave, on the other hand, did not seem like a very viable option, and he couldn’t help getting the impression people weren’t exactly likely to find him in there on their own accord. He had no way of communicating from the inside. He had to get out if he was going to live.
That was a very sobering conclusion, as he did not recall ever having been in a situation where he had to do something unpleasant to save his life before, not that he was entirely sure he would be able to recall it if it had happened. In any case it seemed like a kind of divine test of his worth.
He lay firmly down and began to push himself in through the tunnel, wincing as the sharp rocks cut him, and prayed for it not to be a very long tunnel. After an agonizing while, he found that the tunnel was beginning to widen, allowing him to first walk on all fours, which was considerably more comfortable, and finally to stand up and just bend his head. And it was not until the tunnel was wide enough for him to walk comfortably upright that he realized that it wasn’t as dark anymore: there was, quite literally, light somewhere at the end of the tunnel, and a dim reflection of it was making some parts of his field of vision a little more dark gray than the black shadows.
He hastened along; turning at one point, he could see light falling directly onto a section of the wall ahead, and after practically running towards it and nearly tripping, he finally found himself facing light outside –
Through bars.
The sight flabbergasted him to the point of stopping to stare. A gust of wind twirled the sand outside around, some of it scattering across the rocky cave floor on the other side of the thick metal bars; he could feel a faint, pleasantly warm whisper of the same wind stroking his bare skin. He couldn’t see anything outside except the sand, and then a bit further away… something that looked like hewn rock?
He heard noises that resembled animal sounds, but the volume and apparent number of the creatures producing them seemed decidedly odd for animal behavior as he was meant to understand it: he was oddly reminded of hooligans at a football game. It didn’t quite make any sort of connection in his brain. He walked, now slowly and more cautiously – after all, the bars seemed to make it clear that somebody had willingly imprisoned him there – towards the mouth of the cave and found himself irritatingly concerned about preserving his dignity as he did, despite the situation: he feebly covered his privates with his hands and tried to approach in an apologetic manner, already making up the quickest possible explanation in his head, in case he found some rescuers and a way out.
Then he heard a something midway between a screech and a roar, deafening, angry and ferocious, and momentarily forgot about all of this as his heart took a sudden lurch in his chest and his balance failed so that needed his hands to support his body against the cave wall.
He waited there for a few seconds, his violent heartbeat audible even through the cries of what he could have sworn was excitement outside, but when the roar did not repeat itself, he inched slowly along the wall, now more concerned about seeing what in the world was outside those bars anyway than about any potential conversational awkwardness later on. He closed his eyes in a brief few indistinguishable words of what might have been prayer or just encouragement to himself – he didn’t really know – and pressed forward for what seemed like quite a long while – then he was startled to find his hand gripping cold metal, and before he had really realized that this must mean he had reached the gate, he had automatically opened his eyes.
His voice appeared to be gone, which was probably a good thing, since if it had not, he would have produced a very unmanly yelp he could never have forgiven himself for. He stared up at the – he’d be damned if it wasn’t a Roman coliseum in its full, absurd glory – and the spectators crowding the seat rows, and his feeble attempts at convincing himself they were human never managed more than to highlight the obvious fact they weren’t: he saw malicious glee glinting in every yellow, lizardine eye, rows of teeth gleaming in long jaws as they snapped in excitement, long tails lashing impatiently around, and this combined with clothes of all things, brightly colored togas covering their bodies as if nothing were more natural. Their forelimbs were short and clawed, and yet they carried them as humans would their hands; the ones that stood had a hunched stance balanced by the tail, and yet they were on their toes to see above the heads of the ones in front of them –
He closed his eyes again, pressed himself back against the cave wall, and tried to ignore the cries of obvious dismay that this elected from the audience. This was somebody’s joke; the CGI team for Jurassic Park was using him as an unknowing test audience for the next film, or maybe somebody had slipped him a mind-altering drug at some point – he was quite happy with that explanation, as it could explain the partial amnesia as well. His breathing slowed down a bit. Okay. This was not real. Once he opened his eyes again, all the creepy lizardmen would be gone, and he would be in some sane place like his bed, or maybe raped and bleeding somewhere in an alleyway, but at least not a gladiator in the world of Raptorjesus.
He had no such luck; the only thing that had changed when he opened his eyes was that the lizardfolk all seemed more impatient, and they began to let out loud, screeching noises which quickly worked up to a rhythmic, inhuman chant of demand as more and more of them joined in. That then abruptly exploded into cheering, and something made him more predisposed to consider this a bad thing than a good one; he could not say it surprised him particularly when another terrifying roar pierced through his ears, and in some bizarre way, it felt almost reassuring to have anticipated it.
He had not anticipated that the metal bars covering the entrance to his cave were about to be raised up to allow him to exit, however, and this made him hesitate long enough to see the approaching dinosaur before doing something stupid like running out.
This thing looked far less like the lizardmen than like your ordinary, hunger-crazed Tyrannosaurus rex, so he did not assume it had a brain capable of grasping any sort of negotiation and just ran screaming back into the cave. He wondered vaguely if Jurassic Park was right about them not seeing you if you didn’t move, but figured it was a stupid movie and not worth risking it.
The dinosaur roared after him, and he felt its hot, foul breath on his back; the smell was nauseating, but he held his breath, turned round the bend in the tunnel and there stopped to breathe while looking quickly back where he had come from. He couldn’t see past the blind turn, which made it a bit of an uncomfortable place to watch from; he retreated further in, still panting, and waited for a few seconds. He could hear the T. Rex’s annoyed growls, but they did not seem to be getting nearer. After a moment, he dared to go closer again, very cautiously, and look round the corner.
Of course. It couldn’t get this far into the cave. It stood there and stared madly ahead; it roared hungrily as it eyed him and tried to squeeze itself farther in, but couldn’t.
This left him really only one option: to retreat deeper into the cave again. He ran along the tunnel, though cautiously enough to make sure he didn’t fall or hit his head on the ceiling, and stopped only when he would no longer be able to continue without crawling on all fours. There he stopped to catch his breath again, drawing in quick gulps of the rather stale air, and thought over his situation.
He was in a cave.
There was a dinosaur at the only exit.
In other words, he was fucked.
After a blank moment he concluded that there was regretfully little else in the situation to think over, and he looked restlessly around, unable to get rid of the persistent feeling that the T. Rex might break in through the ceiling or a weak wall at any moment, or perhaps that they would release a smaller dinosaur that could get in through the cave and tear him to shreds, or maybe just drag him out themselves to hasten his probably no more pleasant death in the jaws of the Tyrannosaurus. Though he felt as if he ought to prefer something quick and messy to the slow agony of starvation, the notion of just being stuck inside a cave, with no dinosaurs involved, seemed like a decidedly more attractive alternative with every moment that passed. He shifted, wondering if perhaps he could go back to the chamber he had started out in and close it off somehow; another roar, sounding distant now, made him jump, crouch down and begin to make his way blindly along the tunnel.
The rocks seemed even sharper now that he was going the other way; they cut into his skin in many places at once, and though he had not really noticed himself bleeding too much the first time around, the air was now heavy with the coppery smell of his blood. He hadn’t remembered the tunnel being nearly as narrow as it was now, either, and it was beginning to be difficult to breathe as he pushed himself through a gap that should have been far too small for him – he felt the sharp edges of the rocks making deep, long cuts in his chest and hips as he squeezed through – and suddenly found his hands groping thin air.
His stomach took a sickening lurch as he lost his balance, and his legs slipped through the hole even as his feet fumbled to stop his fall; his body slammed hard against the slimy rock wall below before he plummeted on downwards, nightmarish terror overshadowing even the pulsing pain in his entire body after the impact. Four long heartbeats of free fall, and then he hit sand, the tiny grains burying themselves painfully into his cuts. He raised his head up, his entire body aching.
Attempting to move his right arm only intensified the throbbing pain, so he wiped the sand off his face with his relatively uninjured left hand and opened his eyes. Everything was swimming before him, but while he tried to regain focus, his brain began to process his other senses again, and he realized uncomfortably that the vague background noise ringing in his ears was the mad cheering of the lizardmen, and that the musky smell of rotten flesh around him was the steady, foul breath of the Tyrannosaurus.
He had only a moment to contemplate the physical impossibility of this before his eyes focused upon the filled coliseum, and he turned his head sharply around – his neck stung with pain – just in time before the beast opened its jaws wide.
--
Name: James Randall Smith
Birth: January 19th 1986
Death: September 14th 2027 (automobile accident)
Occupation: CEO
Primary virtues: NONE
Primary sins: Wrath, envy, adultery, blasphemy, bearing false witness
Worst nightmare: Being eviscerated and devoured by dinosaurs (age 7)
Other fears: Reptiles, darkness, caves, falling, helplessness, social embarrassment, muteness
--
He could only scream, and it did not relieve the pain; the cold sky was dark in the back of his fading vision and the scorching sun no more than a dull spot of white, time passing in desperate, pulsing heartbeats and the torturous throbs of pain accompanying each of them, the slashes of claws and the tearing of teeth, until everything slowed and there was only the burning agony of prolonged death.
--
Sentence: HELL
--
Darkness. Silence. He blinked. He didn’t know where he was.
He felt the ground experimentally and concluded it was a rocky cave floor. He tried to remember how he had gotten there, but he could not really recall anything at all of his life. He did not feel as if he had amnesia – he still knew facts he had learned, and the memories felt just out of reach. It just didn’t seem like his most important concern for the moment.
He sat up and began to feel blindly around with his hands.
--
“Torture any man for long enough, and it will cease to bother him. He should not know what is coming to him, nor why he is subjected to it. No man can feel fear and pain like one who has never felt them before.”
