Bound Flesh

The cold, icy air that had just moments before enveloped the entire room was now gently beginning to release its frosty grasp. The girl looked up at the paralysed man who stood her. The bewildered child’s eyes quickly began to fill with tears as her gaze met with that, not of the man before her, but of the rusted blade that he held tightly within the hands. The strangeness of the situation only added fuel to the fire that was her fear. His entire body was frozen, alone in place as though time itself had stopped for this moment alone. Yet peculiarly, the candle to which the old man had placed upon the ground beside him still flickered intensely. Time had not stopped; something else was at work here, something both sinister and benevolent at the same time. The old man’s hands started to shake violently, his grasp on the blade began to loosen as though something, or for that matter, somebody wished to disarm him of his weapon. Suddenly, roughly, something took a hold of his legs, pulling them backwards, as his body slammed to the ground.
Jackal, ironic is it not? The voice was Slug's, the tone at least that was, but, the depth, the layered pronunciation and layered veracity sounded otherworldly. Slug’s vocals were now almost entirely different, now resembling an entire symphony of briefly audible voices, all crying out at once. The old man, though struggling to clamber to his feet seemed to have miraculously regained at least some of his bodily control. But, bizarrely, once up onto his feet, he began to press his arms into his sides, that, or the aforementioned otherworldly force was again, playing its part. It was as if a multitude of great weights rested upon his dainty shoulders. It was now blatantly obvious that his emotions had been altered and elevated to those of complete terror.
Ha! A dog, you know that's what you f*****g are Jackal. A worthless, b*****d dog!
Slug began to eerily hoist himself upwards from the cold, stone floor, in an almost puppet-like manner.

The temperature, again began to drop drastically, whatever had caused the old man to halt in his very position was surely about to return. Without hesitation and partly by uncontrollable instinct, the girl hastily leapt over the stone slab. She really didn't know why, but she just wanted to hide, to close her eyes and pretend that this entire ordeal was nothing more than a bad dream. She lowered her head to just between her legs she started to sob profusely.
Sins may be forgiven, even for fiends like you; all gods must feel compassionate enough to give fiends another chance. F**k your gods Jackal, f**k them all! A freakishly insane laughter ensued, followed by the heart wrenching, gut churning reverberating echoes of the cracking of bones. Then...silence.

Come child, you need not fear me.
After a moment of hesitation the girl fearfully yet in the typical child-like way, obediently raised her head and peered over the crumbling stone slab, only to be greeted by Slug, standing, lumbering in full force before her. His skinny hands were shaking, his eyes blood red, his arms were contorted into obscure positions, positions that would under any normal circumstances, be anatomically, never mind physically impossible for any human to recreate without bringing serious injury upon themselves. What was worse, what struck fear into the child’s eyes, was the grimacing, almost forced, menacing smile that took over his entire face.
Tell me, delicate child, how did you come to be in such a...dreadful place? Slug said in such a way that his intentions seemed clouded to the child.
With a few lonely tear drops still rolling down her soft cheeks, and while struggling to meet Slug's eyes with her own, the girl said nothing, only retaining her fear-induced, blank expression. Slug creepily knelt down to the girl; the somewhat uneasy grin still firmly had full control over his young, pale face. Instinctively, the girl backed away, almost falling backwards into the hard wall behind her, she began to shake her head profusely in disagreement.
Aren't you a pretty child? It makes one question this vessels morals. We are sure this wretched hound won't mind what we do with its scrawny little body.
The menacing smirk on his face suddenly grew even larger, as he reached forward, tightly gripping onto her by the arm with his cold, sickly hands. The girl started to struggle intensely as Slug roughly pinned her to the cell wall, now grasping both of her small arms with brutish force. An uncontrollable onset of emotion was let forth as she started to scream and panic in a mess of tears and pain. Slug reacted to her outbursts with nothing more than a simple yet cruelly intentioned smile, and continued with all of his strength to reach whatever goal he had in mind within his twisted pursuit. Suddenly, without warning, his eyes rolled back into their sockets in such a way that the tissue around them violently tore apart, spurting blood and dark yellow liquids onto the girl’s tear-soaked face. Blood started to eerily drip from his ears as his body began to shake and convulse ferociously. Within moments he collapsed to the ground with a truly tremendous thud, smashing his head against the hard stone slab like a tormented doll.

A deep , familiar silence once again entered the cell, bringing forward and leaving nothing but the imprinted flashes of the horrific events of which had just moments ago taken place in the child's mind. She sat there, alone, knelt over, shaking behind the cold, stone slab, sobbing, wiping her face with her hands ferociously, trying with everything she had to remove Slug's sticky blood from her soft cheeks.

 The tears had now all but dried and her previous state of panic was gradually beginning to subside. Looking around the room anxiously, a somewhat deep look of disappointment took over her soft, bewildered face. Nothing came to her drowning attention, nothing she could use, no visible, nor viable means of escaping this nightmare. Only the sight of the giant steel door, which was looming over her, tempting her curiosity. The large door somehow knew it was her only means of exile, be that anthropomorphism or not, there was something living, something within that door, something watching her. There was no other alternative, she couldn't stay here forever. The cell was cold, the only thing illuminating the interior of the stone walls was the two small candles that lay on the floor, and their short lives would shortly come to an abrupt end. Then nothing would remain, only darkness and fear. With her hands shaking uncontrollably, she hoisted herself up from the damp ground and slowly, regrettably,  edged around the large stone block in front of her. The steel door stood towering before her, grasping onto the side of the wooden frame she peered out into the corridor., the faint glow oil lanterns could be seen, mounted onto rusted iron fixings heavily bolted into the walls, their bright, somewhat humbling, yellow light revealing the rusted iron bars of what looked to be an endless track of identical cells, each surprisingly matching the cell she was currently in almost perfectly. A jet black blanket of darkness laid waiting, between every three or so cells. As daunting as it seemed, entering this seemingly endless corridor appeared to be her only means of finding any kind of salvation, and ultimately, an escape from this wretched place.

Taking careful, muffled steps she unwillingly made her way out into the partly illuminated corridor. The air here was bitter, harshly scratching at her soft face with every new step she took. While making her way down the corridor in a somewhat disgruntled manner, she tried hard to keep her gaze firmly fixed to the stone ground in front of her, oddly, although this corridor and the cells branching off from it were obviously void of any other occupants, there was the ever constant, elevating fear that something was watching her every move, lurking in the darkness between each cell, waiting for the precise moment to reveal itself. This was, most likely just her imagination, toying with her confused senses, constantly giving the impression of hastily dancing shadows, elegantly parading from wall to wall.

A large, neatly piled stack of barrels came into view a few paces in front of her. The flickering of the orange light produced by the lanterns revealed what appeared to be a series of small, rusted taps, forcefully wedged into the bottom of each barrel. Suddenly, a faint shuffling sound began to echo down the corridor behind her, the shuffling soon turned into footsteps. Heavy footsteps. With each passing second they drew closer, closing in on her position with dedication. In a sudden state of Panic, she ran for the barrels, diving for the ground, quickly taking shelter behind the largest stack, hoping that whatever it was, she would be safe. The sounds then died down, but, after a few moments returned again, tenfold. This time they were much heavier. Whatever it was, it was drawing closer to her with every step it took. The urge to scream was paramount, but, holding her hand over her mouth she managed to suppress it. Edging her head out into the corridor, she immediately saw something, a large, dark mass, wrapped in shadows, quickly heading for the barrels.. She fell back behind her shelter as the figure came within mere feet of her. Suddenly, one of the lanterns above the cell across from the illuminated the dark mass, revealing the hideously wretched monstrosity as it passed by. The creature was like nothing she had ever seen before, nor ever witnessed within her darkest nightmares.  The slender legs of what looked to be a young woman, completely unclothed. At its waist, or at least where its waist should have been located was something truly sickening, something tremendously unholy. The upper body of a goat had somehow been sown onto the lower abdomen of the a young woman. It's spine was crooked, hunched over in the most horrific way as it passed by. The girl closed her eyes tightly, in the hope of at least limiting any future memories of this gut churning encounter. Luckily, with the beasts heavyset pace, it had moved on within a matter of seconds, letting out the most freakish sounds imaginable with every step it took, unexpectedly, giving away the impression that it was in a great deal of constant, agonising pain. Each sound pierced the girls small, soft ears. The bleating of the torn goats remains mixed unnaturally with the sickly, almost sexual moaning of what could only be a woman.