Dearest Captor: Difference between revisions

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(Created page with "As I came to, the first thing I tried to do was stand up. When I realized that I was tied down, a feeling of unrelenting horror came over me. The last time I remember being this scared was my first performance. My name is Bryce Doyle. I'm an illusionist and I'm actually quite popular for my field of work. The room I was in was pitch black so I couldn't see a damn thing. The only two senses that I was aware of were sound and feel. I ''heard'' the incessant ringing in my...")
 
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The room I was in was pitch black so I couldn't see a damn thing. The only two senses that I was aware of were sound and feel. I ''heard'' the incessant ringing in my ears and I ''felt'' my head throbbing. As the annoying buzzing died down and I began to regain my sight, I could see someone walking around and I could hear murmuring.
 
“Afternoon"Afternoon, Mr. Doyle..."
 
I never responded.
 
" I said good afternoon... Mr. Doyle!" my probable captor said impatiently.
 
I still never responded and my gracious captor grunted and slammed the door, wherever it was, behind him.
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In heaps, there were bodies. Some of them dead, but many of there were... ''half'' alive. They all, at one time or another, suffered and I was sure of at least that fact. Which isn't saying much. When the lights turned on all those alive instantly turned their heads toward me. Their skeletal faces hardly resembled anything that could have been at the very least ''once'' human. If they even had eyes anymore they were so far sunken back into their sockets they looked like black pits. Their skin was so tight around their bones that I was expecting the skin to tear altogether. That is, if the necrosis hadn't already done that. The smell of shit, piss, and rot was overwhelming. Even through the window.
 
“You"You've found them... don't think anything of it. They're worthless."
 
The sudden crackle of the intercom turning on had startled me.
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''Okay, random as this is... this could be useful,'' I said to myself in a whisper.
 
No more than two minutes later the walkie talkie came to life and my captor said, “I"I saw you, you know. I let you live."
 
I never responded.
 
“I"I'm behind you, I'm always behind you."
 
Still, my silence was stern.
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At least I knew where he was most of the time. I followed him. When he walked through a threshold I waited outside the door and spoke into the walkie talkie for the first time.
 
“The"The place forms a circle... or at least something that resembles a circle, doesn't it?" I asked, semi rhetorically.
 
“Ah"Ah, it speaks," the asshole said quite condescendingly.
 
“Shut"Shut up and answer the damn question," I barked sternly.
 
“Yes"Yes... it does."
 
“Well"Well... then that means I'm always behind YOU doesn't it?" This time my question was definitely rhetorical.
 
There was a dead silence on the other end. I smirked as I could hear frantic rustling and banging from within the room. My captor came out in a hurry, looking both ways in a panic. And when he looked my way I knocked him out cold with a couple of hard blows to the face.
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Then, from around a corner I didn't even notice, turned the ''fucking masky''.
 
“HOW"HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET OUT OF THERE?" I demanded furiously.
 
This time ''he'' didn't respond.
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Crawling across the floor, powered only by the will to live, and looking for an exit I checked the doors that seemed to not have anything behind them. Eventually, after continuous trial and error I gave up on finding an escape. Just then, a great crash practically made me go deaf as a newly formed entrance/exit, five feet away from me, flew open. I don't know who found me but the only thing I remember after that was continuous shouting and then blackness. Days later I woke up in the hospital after nearly succumbing to my wounds.
 
{{by-cpwuser|Mr.Zalgopasta|date=September 30, 2011}}
[[Category:Deletion Log Refugees]]
[[Category:Bad Creepypasta]]