RAZOR: FESTIVAL OF THE DAMNED

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Summary

The evils slices we may partake of in life, may be razors that carve pieces from us with diabolical strife..... One man drunken, on the run from the police..... Renewed acts of hostile intent causing the death of an innocent....... Awakening, blind; unaware of his surroundings, this man finds himself to be in a predicament most malign...... Captured in a lethal prison of his own design......

Genre:
Horror / Humor
Author:
Robert Alan Ryder
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
1
Rating:
5.0 2 reviews
Age Rating:
18+

RAZOR: FESTIVAL OF THE DAMNED

Millard Black, a man hated, and even feared. Condemned as being a serial murderer, an armed robber, and a rapist. The system for this evil man’s case, it was not at its best. Black escaping incarceration in the guise of a laundry attendant.

Holding up within the confines of an abandoned home, Millard black did what all free criminals do; he began to celebrate. Illegally procured beer; a twelve back of Miller High Life in the bottle, and junk food to sustain him, the memories of a convenience store’s clerk already to haunt him.

Three beers down, nine to go….. The convict, he began to rage. The now empty bottle smashed to hundreds of pieces, as it is tossed violently toward the eggshell white brick wall that now faces him. Black turned away from the solid construct of a wall, the man thankful there are no mirrors for him to stare into.

“.…. Idiot!” Black raged with a slight slurring of his tongue. “He should have just given me the damn money….. Fool didn’t have to fight back…..”

Black quickly returned to quenching his thirst. Images of a struggle playing over and over again in his mind, giving the conflict his due cause to continue on his escapes from his recent deeds through drunken debauchery.

Six beers down, six to go….. Silence of guilt began to dull his senses. Voices appeared to call out to him, as he slowly drifted in and out from consciousness.

Nine beers down, three to go….. The ninth, half empty; fell from his grip, as unconscious darkness quickly took over his mind. Millard Black was now fast to sleep.

Millard Black awoke, the man finding himself to be in a bit of a bind. His head pounded to the memory of the past night’s binge of nothing but alcoholic drink and beef sticks; and of barely controlled ill- temperament. The man’s mind, it was dazed and confused.

Blurred, were his eyes; from uncountable levels of substance abuse, Black attempted to raise his arms. This maneuver a standard reaction for someone attempting to rub the sleepiness from their eyes.

Panic now began to slowly set in. Millard Black, he could not move.

His eyes still blurred, the man resorted to a listening of his surroundings. This, the one good skill he had learned from his passed experience in commitment to military service.

“.…. My, my, my Mister Black…..” The voice of some unseen captor, was now beginning to toy with him. “Not so much fun anymore, the morning after; is it?”

“Where am I?” Black questioned, as he tried to fidget free from whatever was restraining him.

“You will have to trust me on this….. You really do not want me to answer that question…..”

Millard Black, raised his head slightly and spat in the direction of the speaker.

“I am not afraid of you…..”

“.…. You should be….. You, you cannot even move….. You, you do not even know where you are….. You, you do not even know who I am…..”

The smell of burning flesh now reached Black’s nasal passages, as the unseen speaker moved in on his position. Millard Black’s heart began to beat rapidly as feelings of helplessness threatened to consume him.

“.…. Get me out of here! The building, it’s burning!”

The mysterious speaker now laughed in a deep booming voice that seem to resonate all around him with unexpected echoes.

“.…. You, you’re a maniac! Get us out of here, now! We’ll both be burned alive!”

The mysterious speaker laughed a second time. This time his roaring vocals shook the ground beneath Black’s feet. Millard Black’s eyes slowly started to clear. The silhouette of a tall and spindly, wiry man now came to his unfocused sight. His mysterious captor was creeping around walls of flame that appeared to be surrounding him.

Millard Black now managed to glance at his arms and his legs. He was being imprisoned by some kind of wire.

Millard Black attempted to flex his muscles in an effort to test his binds. His flesh started to sizzle as the heated cords cut into his skin, the cuts slicing through as if they were razors.

Millard Black screamed.

“You, you are in a cell Mister Black. One that is of self- contained imprisonment….. You have been imprisoned, that you may answer for your past deeds…..”

Black’s eyes now cleared further. The frightened and panicked man getting a better look at his mysterious tormentor. The being, it had an unnatural flesh that was a reddish- orange in color. The being seeming to be almost like living flame.

“What the hell is going on here?” Black cried out aloud.

The tall and spindly reddish- orange skinned stranger, now stared into the man’s face; looking deep into his eyes. His own unnatural eyes flaring from burning embers that have been set within his crimson pupils.

“Now, Mister Black, now you are on the right track….. Hell, it is where you have made your home….. Hell, it is now where you will stay…..”

Millard Black screamed louder. Like living slithering creatures, lengths of his bindings drew tighter. New expansions to the razor cage biting multiple points of entry into his chin. Two blades, razor- sharp; jam themselves between his upper and his lower teeth.

Millard Black now fell silent. Thin extensions of his razor cage beginning suturing procedures, that slowly seal his mouth closed with metallic stitching.

“Welcome to eternity Mister Black….. It has become the hell of your own creation, and from your suffering will there eventually be an ascension event….. A release of all those souls you have wronged…..”

The Devil turned away from the crying and bleeding, struggling shell of a man. His wicked laughter resonating in booming eruptions around him. Millard Black’s head, now pounding even harder than before. In his eyes, the man could not believe what he was now seeing. The Devil, he was gripping the handle from the box of a twelve pack of bottled Miller High Life, one beer was in his right hand; three were left clanking against each other in the box. One empty bag of Hot Fries and another of Flaming Hot Cheetos was littering the ground nearby.


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