Bats in the basement

for MomzillaNC's challenge, boiling a plagiarist in Bat Guano ...

The man opened the door to the basement. He dragged an unconscious woman across the room. She looked to be in her fifties, with short cropped perfectly coiffed white hair. Normally, not a hair nor stitch would be out of place, but today, she was particularly disheveled. Her eyes fluttered open as he propped her up in a chair, securing her arms and legs with sturdy cotton ropes.

She felt too weak to struggle against the restraints ‎. A survey of the room through a veil of blood and a puffy eye revealed several other chairs, each with people in them, tied to them in a similar fashion to herself. To her horror, a couple of them were moving, but not of their own volition, rather they were teeming with maggots. 

‎She felt her gorge rise, but fought the urge to vomit. She wasn't going to give this sick pig the satisfaction. Where the hell was he? The dark, basement made her lose all sense of time and space. She drifted in and out of consciousness ...‎

The woman snapped to attention, along with the others who were able to, when the lights were turned on. A man stood at the centre of the tied captives in their chairs. 

"Listen up, people, we've been found out. I need to know what each of you said or did to alert those meddling interlopers at the cafe'."

It had to be one of them, he thought. How else did people find out about the stolen poems?

The devil had a vague familiarity about him, Mary thought. A former colleague maybe? 

 

"The first to fall was you," he pointed at the disgusting, putrefying mass in the chair, "Tomatoe, potatoe, cockroache, no one bought ‎ your teacher bit, Ms Timmins..."

Something clicked in the woman's brain. Anne, lovely Anne? From Montreal? Oh, this was bad. 

The man who went by the name of Chris, his last name was something funny, Valiant? No, it was something like that but it ended in court, kicked each chair, one by one. Some of the people groaned. Many of them were past making noise.

Last he came to her. "Mary, dear Mary. You will be the last to go."

Why did he want to do this? He loved us all, did he not? 

Chris stomped about the room. The smell of them made him sick. His special friends. Blake, barely conscious, was too tired to struggle against the ropes. The other Mary, and the two he knew as Sometimesblood, and Wandering Minstrel, were long past caring. They were worm food.

Patrick looked at him pleadingly. Jon, oh, he had fought hard, was still glaring daggers at him.

How dare he? I am God, I am the creator, he thought, as he took the knife and began cutting. He couldn't tell who the screams were coming from anymore. He felt the blood dripping down his arms, and he immersed himself in hot bleachy water in the downstairs bathroom tub. Things were foggy -- I need to take care of Mary, he thought, close her account for good...

Excerpt from the Windsor Gazette, December 13, 2014:

Police outside Windsor Ontario, responding to complaints of smells and strange activity in a home in a quiet neighbourhood last ‎week, made a grisly discovery. 

A man's body, yet to be identified, was found in a basement in a small bungalow.

The circumstances remain under investigation. There are unconfirmed reports of chairs in a circle said to be placed in a ritualistic like fashion, prompting rumours of occult connections to the case.

Whether it be a bizarre coincidence or linked to the death, the police called a pest control company in to safely trap thousands of bats that had infested the bungalow. The amount of bat guano meant the scene was a virtual petri dish, especially since the heat had been turned to over 26 degrees C, presumably due to the recent cold snap.

While the death is considered to be suspicious, police declined to comment as to why they are not looking for any suspects, only that the case does not appear to be a homicide... 

Author's Note

okay people, it's fiction, and it's for a contest, I am really not this sick.:)
I thought of the movie Identity www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIfcdg7etE0

Reviews

[icelandicblue]

This is wickedly acidic. Every word cuts, as it should. I was especially stuck by the news report. One way or another things like this do not end the way we had hoped. It is sad and vexing all at the same time.

[Lyn Anderson]

I think, really, it is a sad tale, as every psychotic person's tale is. I am glad that came across.