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The room was dimly lit with four candles slowly burning in a rusty chandelier fashioned from scrap metal. The walls were covered with a tobacco-aged wallpaper that was trying hard to escape the mildew-ridden wall and the carpet was worn and stained. It was sparsely furnished with nothing but an empty cupboard and a gun rack mounted on parallel walls of the room. In the centre there was a device that would baffle most people, but to its creator was all too familiar. It was a large cross, made of solid wood that was laid flat and rested upon large legs. At the ends of the cross were large leather straps that were worn from sweat and struggling, but they were strong and had managed to hold.
On the table now was a young man stripped to his underwear and strapped so tightly to the table that his hands and feet were turning blue from lack of blood. His chest bore a large hole that leaked blood and puss but his face showed that he was still alive. Barely. His face was a picture of terror, his pupils were engorged and his eyelids stretched wide baring the white of his eyes. The blood from his crushed nose flowed steadily into his mouth and every few seconds he spat the blood out to stop himself choking. The man’s arms showed the beginning of bruising and large areas of grazing that indicated a struggle, which had evidently been in vain.
The floorboards groaned underneath the weight of a heavy man who entered the room. He was tall and of a broad stature and wore a long white coat. He put his hand in his pocket and emerged with a scalpel and some pliers which he set down beside the man on the bed. The tall man looked into the eyes of the man on the bed and as he began cutting deep into his chest cavity he said in a manic voice, “Trust me, I’m a doctor.”
Outside, a young couple hastily walked away from the ramshackle cabin with a rusty pickup truck parked in front to continue their walk in the woods and to avoid the foul scent of burning flesh.
On the table now was a young man stripped to his underwear and strapped so tightly to the table that his hands and feet were turning blue from lack of blood. His chest bore a large hole that leaked blood and puss but his face showed that he was still alive. Barely. His face was a picture of terror, his pupils were engorged and his eyelids stretched wide baring the white of his eyes. The blood from his crushed nose flowed steadily into his mouth and every few seconds he spat the blood out to stop himself choking. The man’s arms showed the beginning of bruising and large areas of grazing that indicated a struggle, which had evidently been in vain.
The floorboards groaned underneath the weight of a heavy man who entered the room. He was tall and of a broad stature and wore a long white coat. He put his hand in his pocket and emerged with a scalpel and some pliers which he set down beside the man on the bed. The tall man looked into the eyes of the man on the bed and as he began cutting deep into his chest cavity he said in a manic voice, “Trust me, I’m a doctor.”
Outside, a young couple hastily walked away from the ramshackle cabin with a rusty pickup truck parked in front to continue their walk in the woods and to avoid the foul scent of burning flesh.
Bloody hell, thats sick. Excellent descriptions though, got a good feel for everything. Except the pain.
um one) EWWWWW
Two) Sick mind
Three) Good description even when I cannot think right due to this fever I had a clear mental picture
Only thing was it quite short. I think if you broaden and add to it - it would be better
Two) Sick mind
Three) Good description even when I cannot think right due to this fever I had a clear mental picture
Only thing was it quite short. I think if you broaden and add to it - it would be better
Yeah I kinda sorta shoulda wudda made it simpler. But I didnt.
I really like the 2nd paragraph Kyle! Just a little confusion for a moment with the table/bed thing! :P
The room was dimly lit with four candles slowly burning in a rusty chandelier fashioned from scrap metal. The walls were covered with a tobacco-aged wallpaper that was trying hard to escape the mildew-ridden wall and the carpet was worn and stained. It was sparsely furnished with nothing but an empty cupboard and a gun rack mounted on parallel walls of the room. In the centre there was a device that would baffle most people, but to its creator was all too familiar. It was a large cross, made of solid wood that was laid flat and rested upon large legs. At the ends of the cross were large leather straps that were worn from sweat and struggling, but they were strong and had managed to hold.
On the table now was a young man stripped to his underwear and strapped so tightly to the table that his hands and feet were turning blue from lack of blood. His chest bore a large hole that leaked blood and puss but his face showed that he was still alive. Barely. His face was a picture of terror, his pupils were engorged and his eyelids stretched wide baring the white of his eyes. The blood from his crushed nose flowed steadily into his mouth and every few seconds he spat the blood out to stop himself choking. The man’s arms showed the beginning of bruising and large areas of grazing that indicated a struggle, which had evidently been in vain.
The floorboards groaned underneath the weight of a heavy man who entered the room. He was tall and of a broad stature and wore a long white coat. He put his hand in his pocket and emerged with a scalpel and some pliers which he set down beside the man on the bed. The tall man looked into the eyes of the man on the bed and as he began cutting deep into his chest cavity he said in a manic voice, “Trust me, I’m a doctor.”
Outside, a young couple hastily walked away from the ramshackle cabin with a rusty pickup truck parked in front to continue their walk in the woods and to avoid the foul scent of burning flesh.
On the table now was a young man stripped to his underwear and strapped so tightly to the table that his hands and feet were turning blue from lack of blood. His chest bore a large hole that leaked blood and puss but his face showed that he was still alive. Barely. His face was a picture of terror, his pupils were engorged and his eyelids stretched wide baring the white of his eyes. The blood from his crushed nose flowed steadily into his mouth and every few seconds he spat the blood out to stop himself choking. The man’s arms showed the beginning of bruising and large areas of grazing that indicated a struggle, which had evidently been in vain.
The floorboards groaned underneath the weight of a heavy man who entered the room. He was tall and of a broad stature and wore a long white coat. He put his hand in his pocket and emerged with a scalpel and some pliers which he set down beside the man on the bed. The tall man looked into the eyes of the man on the bed and as he began cutting deep into his chest cavity he said in a manic voice, “Trust me, I’m a doctor.”
Outside, a young couple hastily walked away from the ramshackle cabin with a rusty pickup truck parked in front to continue their walk in the woods and to avoid the foul scent of burning flesh.