Two Sentence Stories (Part 3)

There is definitely someone behind me, but whenever I look back I only see my shadow. It would be reassuring, but my shadow just keeps facing me.

My husband says that he’s sorry, that he loves me and that he’ll never hurt me again. I’d like to believe him and let him out, but it took so long to brick him up inside the wall, and I’m really proud of the patching I did.

I served the food in silence, and it was only when I placed the sixth plate that I realised I had plated one too many and nervous laughter erupted from the guests, soon replaced by hysterical tears and sobbing. How hilarious, serving Frank’s empty place after all he’d sacrificed to ensure we had this meal.


The Last Locked Door

They’re almost through the door now.

I think they might actually be savouring this, which makes sense. They’re tired after killing all the others. And I’m the only one left alive.

The drugs were only meant to cause temporary effects: heightening the reflexes and strength of the participants. But the drugs also sped up their metabolism and caused a horrible form of pica: participants ate anything nearby. One choked to death on their own pillow stuffing. Another chewed their own limbs down to stumps. The strongest ones ate everything that moved slower than themselves.

I was moved to my room and strapped to the bed after the first “reactions”. I think most of us participants were. Which made the sounds of the other doors being broken much more horrifying.

The last person I saw alive was a nurse. She locked my door hurriedly, fumbling with the keys. I saw the panic on her face as the door closed, and then heard her start running down the hall. I didn’t cry to her for help. I heard her cry for it only seconds later.

There was a lot of screaming after that. And crashing. And running. And horrible wet noises.

It eventually quietened down, and I think they formed a hunting group. I could hear the doors down the hall being broken into, one by one.

The worst ones were the locked doors. When they’re unlocked, it’s over quickly. The locked doors aren’t impenetrable, but they hold for long enough to hear the… participants… getting louder and more enraged as food draws closer to them.

The last one was my next-door neighbour. I heard the door splinter, the inhuman screams increase. I heard the sound of something hard striking flesh, splintering bone, crushing tissue, and then hitting floorboards.

They’re almost through the door now.

I wish I could talk to them, make them understand me. I wish I’d never participated in this madness. But after my “reaction” I chewed off my own tongue and lips. I really wish I could tell them that they were right: the effects are temporary.