78 - Casa Perdida

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Alice Boe

I heard a scream, followed by sounds of pleading in another language. I took a deep breath and searched for the source of the noise using my ears. That was the least I could do; for, I was bound.

"Baluke Inschimara. Balika Matalihera!" I heard someone shout. It sounded like the voice of someone struggling. I moved my neck a little to glance at the corridor visible from my right. I heard another round of screams, yells, and moaning, followed by the sound of footsteps getting louder. The sound of the wailing boy grew louder and more agitated.

Taking a deep breath, I saw the hooded figure. It was dragging a boy of my age down the corridor. The boy was screaming, crying, and wailing, trying to free himself from the monster's grip; but, La Negra was too strong for him. I wanted to say something, to raise my voice and curse that horrid being. But I was too weak. I was so weakened that I couldn't even push the worms off my leg. They began infesting the injuries on my foot; I was to them a buffet dinner, a source of unhindered feasting.

I couldn't do anything but whimper as I heard the sounds of the boy dim. I could only wish that I won't meet his fate. I couldn't run, fight the fiend, and save him. Soon, I heard no other noise except for that of the flies laying eggs on my injuries. Then, scenes of Shifaly dying flashed before my eyes. I broke down. I wanted to cry, but I lacked tears; for, I drained all the water in my tear glands grieving ever since I realized I was incarcerated in this lost house. I could only wail and groan in deep-seated despair and hopelessness. My throat was dry too. It hurt when I cried, but I couldn't stop moaning. What made me weep was not knowing what will happen to that boy; what might happen to him might happen to me. When you're aware of how you will end, it's easy to accept your fate. But when you aren't, you're tortured by all sorts of grisly, terrifying imaginations of how you might perish. Your creative mind is your worst adversary when you're in my state. You tend to imagine the most hurtful, painful ways to die.

Thirty minutes went by. Those were the lengthiest moments of my life; it felt like forever. Then, I heard the clanking of chains. La Negra entered the room I was trapped in. I wanted to scream, "Please, No!" But my voice was gone. I was so weak that I couldn't punch her when she removed my chains and put new ones on me. I was gagging; that's the only noise I made. She dragged me with chains along the floor to another room. I closed my eyes, wishing that my death would be quick. The ground was coarse. It ripped off small bits of my skin.

Kirt Heinrich

It was getting hot inside the room. That hooded monster brought a table, a large stove, and a large basin. Then, the fiend set up the table first before turning on the stove and placing the basin on top of it to boil some water. The boiling water in the basin warmed the room. I was horrified when I saw the dish because I feared that the demon was going to cook and eat me. I cringed as I imagined the various pains I'd suffer when I'm boiled alive. I screamed. I knew that this creature had to be the creature Sergio told me about. It must have been the fiend that slit his wife's belly and munched on the embryo of his unborn baby. I tried spitting on the beast, but my spittle just landed on the floor, not even near it. It lit some candles, and the entire room was illuminated with fiery orange lights. Under the light of the candles, I saw an old chainsaw stowed to the corner of the room. I also could see all the corpses clearly. It was raining outside the house. The sound of thunder filtered through the space between the molecules of the walls.

The savage then brought a boy and spread him on the table, which was beside the basin with steaming water. The boy looked like a native; he had brown skin. He shrieked like a chicken before slaughter. It stripped him and restrained his legs with chains. The creature found it difficult to bind the boy's hands; the boy was trying his very best to resist the fiend. Giving up on chaining the boy's hands, the monster grabbed a hammer from a drawer under the table, along with a few nails. I looked on, fearing the worst for the boy; my fears became true. The evil creature then held the boy's hands down on the table, despite his screams, gripping them tightly in a way that was quite painful for the boy. After that, it placed a nail on the boy's left palm. Lifting the hammer as high as it could, the fiendish monster proceeded to hit those nails down the palm of the wailing, moaning, and screaming boy. The whole scene reminded me of a Roman crucifixion. Blood rushed out of the boy's hand as soon as the nail penetrated it. Despite his bloodcurdling screams, without an ounce of compassion, the creature continued hammering the nail until it came out through the back of his hand and sunk deep into the wooden table. "Aaaah!" he yelled, screaming in uncontrollable, severe agony.

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