literature

A Beautiful Poison

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Literature Text

    The shadows shifted as the old electric lighting flickered to life. Someone’s footsteps thumped down the stairs into the poorly lit room. The old stone walls of the room hidden beneath the cellar shone damp in the sickly yellow lighting. The shadows seemed to stalk and conspire together as a woman walked into the large stone room. She was tall with long slender legs, thin waist, and thick jet black hair neatly piled on the top of her head. Her long dress was red and black with a long slit down each side up to her hips. The jeweled floral pattern of the corset shone and sparkled, blinding a few of the inhabitants of the room. Behind her, a sturdy, barrel chested man lumbered in heavily. He was bare-chested and barefoot with a whip attached to his hip. The shadows stalked after them after them as they walked casually through the room. The woman’s heels clicked followed by the man’s heavy thuds. Hearing these noises, the inhabitants shrunk back, cowering against the walls; the chains and manacles clattered as they slithered on the floor after their captives. A whimper was heard here and there, but the woman and her companion paid them no heed and continued to the staircase across the room.

    The wooden staircase creaked and moaned under their combined weight as they descended into a deeper darkness. Down. Down. Down. Down they went. It seemed as if the staircase was never ending. The man, bothered by the descent, began to fidget with the whip on his belt. At every turn in the staircase, a door with a  small light above it shown out of the darkness. At every turn, the small lights caused the ever growing amount of perspiration on the man to glisten. His eyes roamed, searching. Searching. Searching for a hint as to his purpose I being brought down to this dank hell. “Hah…hah…hah.”

    The man stopped and listened. Panting. The man, startled, hurried to catch up with the woman. He swiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. They stopped at a door from which the panting seemed to be coming from. The woman pulled a key from a hidden pocket on her person. The key clanked in the door and it creaked as she pushed it open. The key disappeared, hidden on the woman once more. The breathing halted. The man could only see darkness before them. Pitch black darkness.

    They heard movement from the darkness. A shuffling noise, then heavy gasping breathes again. The woman flipped a switch, causing blinding white lights to blink on, stuttering. Then staying. The man blinked, his eyes watering. As he was blinded by the darkness before, now he was blinded by light. The man looked around the room once he could see again. This room, unlike the previous ones, was filled with an antiseptic like cleanliness. Cold, uncaring; it was much like a hospital. The floor was covered in old blood stains.

    Four people were chained the walls and ceiling and scattered throughout the smaller room. All of which were blindfolded. The strips of thick black cloth covered most of their faces but the mouth remained uncovered. Three of them laid almost motionless on the floor, left for dead. Two had blonde hair the other red. The fourth person was strung up in a way similar to a cow ready for slaughter. His chains were drawn tight, his feet an inch or so above the ground. His body trembled and shivered. His hair seemed to have once been a deep jet black, lustrous and thick. But now it was dirty, ratty, matted even and off black in color. It hung limply in oily nasty locks past his waist. All four were bloody, and beaten. All four were thin and frail, bones showing through under the skin.

    The woman walked over to the boy hanging from the ceiling. She whispered in his ear, causing him to struggle feebly. She turned to the man, her hand running down the boys back. “This is your charge. Punish him well. I don’t want my son disobeying me anymore. This is a business I’m trying to run, not a daycare.” She smiled coldly at the boy. The man swallowed, disbelieving. She strutted out the door. It slammed shut and the key clanked in the door. Locked in. Her heels clicked then disappeared altogether. Trapped.

    “With the boss lady’s precious son.” He whispered.

    The man smiled and walked to a table that, before, was nearly hidden by the door, but was now plainly visible. He looked upon the tools, syringes, and pharmaceuticals laid out on the table. He fingered each delicately and turned to look at the boy.

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    The FATTF building was brightly lit, but not uncomfortably so, and filled with desks. Each desk was covered in files and papers, each with a single desktop Dell. It was quiet, empty. The stench of old coffee permeated the room. Thump. Thump. Thump. A man burst through the door and ran to one of the desks. He had greying, dark hair clipped short. His face, clean of facial hair, was lightly lined from stress and worry. He wore a bulletproof vest over his light blue button up shirt. He opened and shut a few desk drawers hurriedly. Searching. Searching. He opened the last drawer and his face lit up. He reached in and pulled a ring of jingling keys from the drawer and slammed it shut. He ran to the door letting it shut behind him. He rushed down the hallway and stamped heavily down a stairwell. Thump. Thump. Thump. At the end of the stairs he rushed to the end of the hallway to a door, which quickly opened. Inside ten men laughed and joked around obnoxiously as they put their vests on. They turned to look at the older man and quieted down, becoming serious.

    “Sir, would you mind telling us what we are dealing with?” A young man stepped forward and asked his superior.

    “Rookie,” the man answered calmly, “this is your first big assignment, don’t mess it up.” He stalked forward the gun case and, unlocking it, handed each man a gun. Next to it was another case, which he also unlocked and grabbed a few sets of car keys. “We are handling the usual human trafficking case. However, there are drugs and weapons dealing suspicions surrounding them, as well. Be wary. We’re heading out. The HSTC has sent me the address.”

    They followed him from the room quickly and headed to the parking garage. The piled into three cars and drove through the city quickly but cautiously. The cool night breeze rustled through their hair as they parked near a large upper-class hotel. “This is our target.” The older man said, “Underground they have some hidden rooms and inside are the people we are trying to rescue. Do not involve them if there is a firefight.”

    Many more black cars pulled up and a woman dressed for the office wearing a vest walked up to them, “Are your men ready?”

    “Yes, ma’am. We are ready whenever you send us in.” The older man replied respectfully.

    “Good. I expect everything to start soon.” She said and left to order her subordinates.

    The radio crackled to life and they mumbled into it. They trudged inside as the others moved in through the front door searching for the Queen Bee. The FATTF men snuck in behind them, easily getting by in the commotion. They headed for the stairwell, avoiding the firefight as much as they could, and rushed down the stairs to the cellar and through the hidden room.

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    The dark clothe over the boy’s eyes prevented him from seeing what was around him, but he was sure that the comforting blackness surrounded him and his “companions” once more. The room was quiet except for his own heavy, gasping breaths. Suddenly, there was a commotion way up above him. The noise was quiet, but he was sure that, being he could hear it down here in hell, that it was really loud up there. The commotion quickly started to die down, but a loud thumping noise seemed to be coming at them. He tensed expecting one of his mother’s goons.

    “We have another room down here!” An unfamiliar voice yelled. A bright beam of light flashed over the thick black cloth, causing the boy to flinch. The others twitched but could not muster the strength for anything else. Hands gently pulled the clothe from his face as someone loosened the chains and lowered him to the floor. He crumpled and laid limply in someone’s arms.

    “You are going to be ok. Everything is going to be all right don’t worry. Just rest.” Someone, his rescuer?, whispered to him. The boy’s eyes, though open could not distinguish his rescuer’s features. Everything was a blur. A loud ruckus bombarded him. Gunshots, anguished cries, fearful screams. Light blurred before his eyes as they began to adjust, but he was unseeing. His breath quick and unsteady, his heartbeat fragile. He waited to crumble into a pile of dust and blow away in the wind. Wind? He was outside with the feel of the fresh night air on his skin for the first time in years. He smiled weakly, attracting the attention of his rescuer.

    “Feels nice, huh?” The man mumbled with a bright smile. “Don’t worry they won’t be able to hurt you again. You’re safe now.”

    The boy closed his eyes numbly his breath slowing and his heart weakly fluttering in his chest. “Hey! Hey! Don’t die on me now. Help is here, just a little longer. Come on, open your eyes!”

    The boy sighed, a single tear running down his cheek as his breathing halted and his heart fluttered to a stop. How death can be so sweet and pain a beautiful poison.

     

    THE END

A story I wrote for English class. I'm actually thinking about continueing this story so if you'd like to see the main character Live or Die now say so in a comment.
© 2013 - 2024 SillvrMist
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