Owned exclusively by author
Warning: (Abuse) Very dark writing....
The shadows of the fire danced patterns of ghost like movements against the mans face as his naked, cut and scratched body hung suspended upside down by his ankles. Blood coagulated about his wounds as the remaining ran down and mixed in with the dirt that covered almost every inch of his flesh.
Seven figures clothed in hooded red capes wearing a white mask with dark eyes and red ruby lips moved about below him assuring each task assigned was done just so. One tending the fire to be sure it was hot and built big to keep the suspended cauldron boiling with the mixture of oil and lavender while another brought out what looked to be a photo album and placed it as tho it was sacred upon a bare old tree stump that seemed to hold a mystical power over all the forest.
Another was laying out a red velvet lining along a makeshift alter fit for a king to sit upon and upon it she placed one unique knife at a time to be lain side by side counting up to seven. After that she lay a sword. Drawn from it’s sheath, the flicker of the flames in the fire reflected against the sharp steel so bright it hurt the mans swollen eyes.
Three others were huddled about together looking at old photographs and handling jewelry and the man noticed one in particular held a little boy’s toy.
The other hooded figure stood beneath the man. Looking straight, with arms crossed and never moving.
The man was only now coming to himself. As the fear gripped him he was suddenly aware of the seething pain that was coursing his mangled body and he let out a scream. It pierced the deep wooded area and was sure to have gotten all the night creatures attention.
The hooded figures stopped what they were doing and then assembled themselves in a circle humming as they listened to him cry and plead. He begged, asking to know why he was there? How did he get there? What were they doing?
The more he struggled, the worse the pain got. He’d come by this time to realize his ankles were secured by not only rope in a Master Oak tree, but also wrapped within the rope was barbed wire.
The fire in front of him was so hot the sweat and mixture of blood may as well been salt water in his wounds. And he was so thirsty. He had no idea how long it had been since he’d had water. His last memory was being at his favorite bar. He’d ordered a Tom Collins. Had he drank it? He tasted it. He knew that, but did he drink it? He must have! This is how they got him here! He felt even more panic seize his chest when suddenly another figure came in on the scene which broke the circle of figures out into a straight line. The humming suddenly stopped.
This figure wore a different color cape. It was made like the rest, but it was black as coal. The mask was different too. Dark eyes, but lips of blue. It also wore white gloves and it held something in them. It moved toward the man as the others began to hum ever so low.
‘Please!’ he begged, with a parched throat, ‘Let me go! I will tell no one! Let me go!’ The figure spoke, and for the first time, he was now sure it was a woman, saying, ‘I wish to hear you no more.’ And then she took the ball of clove oil soaked cotton she was holding and stuck it in his mouth and another taped it shut. It took his breath away as the numbing agent took it’s course, forcing him to slow down and concentrate just on the mere fact of breathing to stay alive.
She stepped to his right and held her now empty white gloved hands out when one of the first of seven hooded figures approached the table of photographs, picked one up and then on to the alter of knives where she picked one with a rose quarts gem in it. The blade was like that of a thin razor. She went to the man and whispered from behind her mask, ‘This is for the time you touched me when I was only five.’ And then she sliced him quickly into left cheek, held up a picture of herself when she was age five for him to look at and walked away with his blood still dripping on her blade as she placed the knife into the white gloved hands of the black cloaked woman and the photo into the photo album sitting on that magic stump.
Then a second figure went, and likewise took another blade of her choosing. This one had a blue stone like that of aquamarine in it and the blade was slightly curved. As she whispered, she said, ‘This is for the time you beat my friend and broke her arm after you threatened to beat her kids in front of her.’ And then she cut deep into his shoulder insuring that muscle would be good for no thing again. She too placed the dripping blooded knife into the gloved hands. And, like-wise held up photographs for him to see, before putting them into the book.
By this time the man was struggling hard to breathe. The clove oil had numbed out his mouth and was causing him to salivate more than normal, so one of the hooded figures came and took the tape from his mouth, removed it and that is when the the dark cloaked one said, “I think you know better than to speak.”
All he could do was cry. His body was too weak to scream anymore. But it was time to continue.
Another picked a double edged blade and whispered, “For the molestation’s of my twin and me when we were only three.’ and she cut him with a giant X across his chest. She was the one that held the little boy’s toy.
And so it went as he struggled to scream, cry and beg. At times he would almost lose conciousness, but cups of alcohol assured to bring him back as it was tossed up on gaping wounds.
Once all the hooded women had made their mark, the black cloaked woman took the blades and dropped them carefully one by one into the cauldron boiling with oil and lavender.Then it was her turn. She walked to the alter and picked up the final blade. The sword. Giving the order she said, ‘Cut him down, and lay him here by the fire’.
He was dropped as if he was a bag to the hard ground and drug to her side. Then took their place to make a circle around the dark cloaked one and the man. Again, the soft hum started again.
Into the fire she thrust the sword until it grew red and then without a word she began to burn him on every cut that had been made. It stopped the bleeding instantly and it would be sure to scar upon scar.
By the time she was done, he was weakly begging for her to kill him. Instead, she pulled the sword back and swiftly cut off his penis. Kneeling down, she held it in front of his face, leaned down and whispered in his ear, ‘That is for raping my Mother’ before pitching the severed organ into the cauldron with the knives. Then she dropped to her knees, grabbed him by his hair and forced him forcing him into her eyes behind her mask as she then put the hot sword there where his man part had been as well.
He fainted from the pain, but when he awoke again, he could only hear the humming growing louder and though blurred, he saw her looking down upon him, holding up her now soaked, red and bloody gloves that had one time been so pure and white, saying, ‘Remember, you did all of this’. He knew. He understood it all now. The blacked cloaked one had no need to show him a photograph. He would never forget. And that stump that held that book would make sure he never spoke a word of the “Seven Hooded Figures”. Her eyes made sure he never even dared think of her name tho he knew it.
The humming grew louder and louder as he was forced to drink a bitter drink as he watched her take off the gloves and offer them into the cauldron of boil with the other things before blacking out. When he woke up again, he was laying naked and in critical condition in front of one of the best Hospital Emergency Room Entrance’s known to man. He was surrounded by all kinds of medical workers trying to make him ready for transport inside to the ER. Police cars were starting to come in as well.
A nurse bent down over him with an IV ready to start in a latex white gloved hand causing him to jump in fear. She shushed him like a baby and whispered to him, “Don’t worry sweetheart. Everything is going to be just fine.’ He longed to just let go. To let himself rest in her arms like the Angel of Mercy she was supposed to be. ‘Just try to stay calm,’ she cooed to him. ‘Not going to hurt you honey. It’s just going to be a little stick.” She put emphasis on that word ‘stick’ causing him to look into her eyes.
He knew those eyes. He knew them well.
Inside The ER*
As she stuck the needle to flow the much needed fluids into his veins, he passed out. When he awakened again the bright light hurt his eyes as he realized he was in the Emergency room of the hospital. An alarm went off signaling that his blood pressure had suddenly risen which caused nurses and others that were working in other areas to come in response.
One was looking carefully over the monitor and pushing some buttons on a machine while another had a stethoscope out and too his now bandaged chest. He felt fear, but was unable to voice anything much more than a slurred yes or no answer when asked if he was feeling certain type feelings in the heart area. ‘It must be the medication,’ he thought to himself.
He tried as best he could to find the woman that had bent over him in the parking lot and started the IV. Where was she? He had to know. It was important that he know where she was at all times. What if she was there to finish he job started in the woods?
Suddenly he was brought out of those thoughts for a moment when he heard a male tech say, “His blood pressure is stable now Dr.” Doctor? A Doctor was there! He was so thankful to know this. He managed to get himself together enough to look at the Doctor and focus in on his face as he heard him tell the tech that he could now move on to another patient.
Bight blue eyes and a smile that brought him some comfort. He sat down on a little stool and put his gloved hand on the mans shoulder and said, ‘Don’t worry. It’s okay. You have some very serious injuries, but we are going to take care of you here.’
Then he stood up and took off his latex gloves and the man noticed a tattoo on the Doctors right hand just between the thumb and fore-finger in the meaty area of his flesh. It was of a white mask with dark eyes and blue lips.
Before he had time to scream, several others gathered about his bed, two being police officers ready to take a statement. Out ten females, there were seven that wore the same tattoo.
The head Police Officer wore a tattoo as well and it was on her right hand. It was of a beautiful two edged sword just like the one used on him in the woods. She was also the same one that had administered the IV now set to flow anything they wanted into his body. And those eyes. Oh my gosh, those eyes. He could be put blind and never forget those beautiful, but so very scary eyes.
She spoke as she took out her pen and pad, “Hello again Doctor. So nice to see you. And how are you and your twin sister doing these days?”
‘She’s just fine Officer,’ he giggled as he stressed her position, ‘Said to remind you that you that you are working as Charge Nurse three days in ICU next week.’
‘Yeah,’ she giggled back with a wink, ‘I know, got it covered. Already got my schedule in order with the police department for the next two weeks, so I’m way ahead of ya.’
She then turned to the terrified man; flashed a pretty smile to go with those beautiful, scary eyes and said, “And how you feeling today sweetheart? Better I hope?”
He heard a low humming sound. He knew that sound.
END-
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