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©The Room

by author E. Motketsan


Kyle stared at the ceiling looking at the stained tiles above him. The rust colored water stains took the shape of previously terrorized victims. Victims, who had their pain etched across them, and understood the helplessness he was feeling. The tiles, like that of some bizarre quilt, were woven together by the misery of its victims who had shared their pain in the small, unforgiving room. It was a quilt that told a story. A story of how, in what we call a civilized society, victims were taken to the small room and subjected to a series of agonizing tortures.

How could it be that Kyle was here again? What in his life had he done that deserved this horrifying experience? He looked at the walls that surrounded him. There were no windows to shed light on the darkness that went on inside. There was only the bluish, pale light coming from the florescent fixture above him. The light flickered and hummed, calling out to him with the voices of others. The deafening sound of a hundred cries calling out for mercy. The sound cut through Kyle’s flesh, and seemed to shatter his bones, as he lay helplessly in the room.

Kyle quivered as he lay, waiting for his turn to come. He was so cold. Why was it so cold? Was it the spirits of previously tortured victims that made the room so cold? There was the sound of footsteps coming from outside the door. Shadows could be seen, from the small opening beneath the door, looming about. No! No, not yet! It can’t be time for me yet! Kyle’s thoughts echoed through the depths of his mind. He lay there, motionless, staring at the opening. Kyle watched as the shadow moved slowly across the doorway, and let out a sigh of relief when the shadow moved on down the hallway. The shadow was going to another room, where the same terror was taking place. There another victim would endure the pain and misery.

Kyle turned his head. He was safe for now. The shadow was gone. The cold metal chain around his neck seemed to be tightening with every move of his head. It lay on the back of his neck like some tremendous weight. Was this the weight of his past sins? The chain cut into his neck like a slow turning saw blade, cutting into him bit by tiny bit. With every turn of his head it went a little deeper, reminding him of his sins.

He rolled his eyes to the left, only to realize what he was lying next to. He hadn’t noticed it before. When did they bring it in? Was someone in the room? When did they bring the rectangular metal tray? His heart began to pound as he lifted his head to see over the lip of the metal tray. His eyes fixed on it as his head moved slowly upward. He could almost…What was on it? He could almost see over the lip…a little more…"No!" Kyle gasped. He stared at the contents, the devices of evil. The devices that inflicted the pain on whoever entered the small room. The shiny metal objects, reflecting the light from overhead, were razor sharp. The light was turned into hundreds of laser beams that bounced around the room searching out a target. The sharpened tools of misery lay side by side, not one was out of place. They were soldiers lined up straight, waiting to use their weapons on the enemy. The enemy lying in the small room.

Kyle glanced around his room. His eyes glazed over as he stared at the walls that were spattered with the blood of previous victims. How could a society let this go on for so long? What evil force kept this room open? Kyle closed his eyes and tried to take his mind to another place, a place of calmness. Somewhere that he couldn’t feel the pain. A place where he could, once again, feel safe. A place where…

The door burst open! Kyle lay there still. He tried not to move but felt himself shaking with fear. Fear! Fear of the small room! Fear of the pain that went on inside this dark and terrifying place. Fear of the shadow that entered the room. Fear of fear itself. Why did he have to come here?

The shadowy figure moved toward him. His face was masked, but Kyle saw the devious smile that he wore beneath the mask. It was the smile that came from inflicting the pain and the misery on his victims. His cold uncaring eyes never looked at Kyle, but penetrated right through to his soul. Kyle could feel the burning inside.

Kyle’s heart was pounding; his breathing heavy and uneasy. The pounding in his chest echoed in his ears. The deafening sound drowned out his screams of terror as the shadow moved closer and closer to where he lay. Kyle tried to move, but his body lay there helpless. What did they give him? Was he paralyzed? The shadowy figure loomed above his head. He called out instructions to him but Kyle never heard them over the sound of his pounding heart. The shadow moved his hands on Kyle’s face. He pried his jaws apart. "No!" Kyle tried to scream but no words would come. He saw the shadow reach onto the metal tray and pick up one of the tools. "No!" Kyle tried to scream again. The lights flickered as if to laugh at the futile cries of help. The stains on the tiles seemed to change. The faces of the victims seemed to be more agonizing. Calling out to him in despair but unable to help him in his moment of need.

The shadowy figure moved the metal device closer and closer to his jaw. Kyle tried to turn his head but the chain around his neck dug in only further. The shiny tool reflected his face of terror as the shadow drove it deep into his mouth. Kyle flinched as he felt the metal point of the device enter into his jaw, driving deep inside his head before the slow burning sensation of the liquid entered his body. The shadow pulled the device from the back of his mouth. He held it up high, as if to show Kyle the full view of the cause of his terror and pain. The shadow dropped the device on the tray and walked out of the room with a terrifying laugh.

Kyle lay there, helpless. He could no longer feel anything. The stains that shaped the victims faces on the ceiling seemed to blur away. The florescent light above him became a soothing aura of bluish colors, like a child’s night-light that kept the monsters away until the morning sun rose from its resting-place. The spattered drops of blood that covered the walls turned to various patterns of flowered colored paper.

The shadowy figure entered the room again. Kyle moved his head to look into his eyes. The shadow smiled at him and said, "So, how are you doing? Did the novocaine take hold yet?"



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