۲۷-۰۳-۹۴، ۱۲:۴۸ ب.ظ
It was a beautiful autumn day when we were told the devastating news. There apparently was a toxic spill up the road from our small development, and we were to be moved to a safe location. No details were given; however, they did make it quite clear it would be in our best interest.
So here we are: myself, my wife, the Blackstones, the Harrises and the Baldrics. Our minuscule community, held in the seclusion of this tiny basement.
Tom Blackstone was the first and only one to try an escape. He began to lose what was left of his mind, unable to stand being cooped up in the tight space that we were locked in any longer.
During one of the infrequent feedings, Tom made a pathetic attempt to overpower the hulking jailer. The last time any of us saw him alive was when the mutant guard outside lifted him up over his head. Our keeper slammed him into the concrete and steel wall and broke his neck. Tom’s body twisted in the throes of agony for a few brief seconds. He died right before his screaming wife’s eyes.
The guard left, tossing a pack of matches into our private prison. We never saw him again.
Five days later we cooked him for our meal. Of course Mrs. Blackstone did not partake in our feast; that would have been unethical. Unfortunately, we were forced to restrain her in the corner. She hasn’t been the same since.
So here we are: myself, my wife, the Blackstones, the Harrises and the Baldrics. Our minuscule community, held in the seclusion of this tiny basement.
Tom Blackstone was the first and only one to try an escape. He began to lose what was left of his mind, unable to stand being cooped up in the tight space that we were locked in any longer.
During one of the infrequent feedings, Tom made a pathetic attempt to overpower the hulking jailer. The last time any of us saw him alive was when the mutant guard outside lifted him up over his head. Our keeper slammed him into the concrete and steel wall and broke his neck. Tom’s body twisted in the throes of agony for a few brief seconds. He died right before his screaming wife’s eyes.
The guard left, tossing a pack of matches into our private prison. We never saw him again.
Five days later we cooked him for our meal. Of course Mrs. Blackstone did not partake in our feast; that would have been unethical. Unfortunately, we were forced to restrain her in the corner. She hasn’t been the same since.
و دیگر آسمان را نخواهی دید...