Home > Horror, Writing > I need a clever title.

I need a clever title.

I don’t have a title for this one that I am happy with. “Revenge” is what comes to mind but that just seems under-whelming.

Also, I am thinking of doing a story as a serial. What do most of you think. Are serials on a blog a good thing or a bad one?

L. E. White

Revenge

Two feet.

All Jack needed to do was to move two feet. If he could move, then he could reach the latch. If he could reach the latch, he could open it.

The bomb was attached to the latch. It would blow when Jack messed with the lever that held the boats together. Jack would die in that explosion. He knew it, but it didn’t matter.

Dead was better than this.

He pulled, trying to drag his slick, tortured hand through the cuff, but when that didn’t work, he shifted his hands back together and started clawing at it with his other hand. It hurt so bad, but trying to scratch enough of his own flesh away to get free so that he could kill himself was better than waiting for this other death.

The one he knew was coming. The one he felt.

The one her father had promised him on sunny, summer morning.

*****

When Jack came around the sun light glaring in his eyes was confusing. The last thing he remembered was walking out to his car last night. He had been walking out of whats-her-names house after she had given him a BJ and he was heading home. He remembered a burst of pain and then falling.

When he tried to move, he realized his hand and feet were connected. His ass was up in the hot, humid air and his cheek was resting on some smooth surface. There was something jammed into his mouth and it felt like a belt was wrapped around his head. He was trussed up like a pig.

“Morning.”

Jack knew that voice. He knew it and he feared it.

It was Beverly’s father.

“I don’t know if you realize exactly what is happening here, but since I gagged you I know you won’t be asking me. That’s fine, I planned to tell you anyway.”

A shadow blocked out the sun. Jack wasn’t in a position to look up much but it didn’t matter.  He couldn’t move enough to face him. He wouldn’t have faced him if he had any other choice in the world anyway.

A hand rested on Jacks head. It wasn’t stroking his hair or pulling it. Instead, it just rested there, unmoving and unnerving.

“I told you when they arrested you that the only safe place for you was in jail. When you got off on a technicality you must have known I would be coming for you. There was no way you were going to get away with what you did to my little girl. There was no way I would allow you to do that to someone else’s little girl.”

Jack tried to say something around the gag. Her father grabbed his ear and twisted it until all Jack was doing was crying.

“Don’t try to talk, I don’t want to hear you.”

The man rested his head back on Jack’s head as he waited for the young man to quiet down.

“Better. Now then, I have you here and I am putting an end to you. We both know that, but what you don’t know is how. I want to share that with you. So I will explain as I we go along.”

Jack felt the intrusion, the sudden, stabbing into his rectum, but it wasn’t all that painful and since her dad didn’t move it wasn’t him extracting some form of poetic justice.

“That was the tip of an enema bag. I am going to shoot your bottom full of water. “

There was a rushing sensation, a feeling of being full to the point of Jack’s stomach beginning to ache. Then, the thing was removed and jack was drug into a sitting position.

Now that his face was up, he could see his captor clearly. Bev’s dad looked like he always did. A t-shirt and jeans plus that stupid trucker hat he always wore on the weekends. He was standing beside an old wooden canoe that Jack was sitting in. Jack had his hands and feet cuffed together, he was naked, and now that her dad had given him the enema, he had to go very badly.

Bev’s dad picked up another canoe, and turned it upside down. He put it over the top of Jack, so that his head was poking out of a hole that had been cut in the middle. Then, he started moving around the boat.

“I have packed the edge of this top canoe with powder and ball bearings. If these latches are flipped, the whole thing turns into a pipe bomb. I don’t want you getting out of this.”

Jack bit down on the gag to keep quiet.

After that, the guy put on a pair of chest waders, the big rubber pants that some men wore to walk through a river when fishing, and then he smiled at Jack. Bev’s dad walked to the end of the boat.

“Have you figured out what is going to happen yet?”

Jack shook his head a tiny bit, afraid to move. He felt a bubble in his stomach and fought not to shit himself in the boat.

Her dad pushed the boat out a bit and began to wade into the tiny pond. “This is only a few feet deep, so I am going to push you out to the middle and anchor you there.”

Jack turned his head to look at the man when he moved up to the side of the boat. “This is one of the oldest forms of torture. I am going to leave you here, and you are going to shit yourself. The smell is going to draw in flies and they will lay eggs on you. Especially in those small cuts I made on your back. ”

Jack’s eyes widened. He began to thrash and pull against the cuffs but the strain caused him to let loose. His ass emptied into the boat in a rumbling fart that he and his friends would have laughed at any other time. He felt the gooey mass expand around him in the boat.

“That’s right. The fly larva will hatch and eat you. This will be slow and terrible. You will feel them wiggling and working around and you won’t be able to stop them. This is horrible and I hope you suffer. After what you did to my little angel, you deserve to suffer.”

Bev’s dad waded away, leaving Jack to stew in his juices and wait. Once he was out of the water and all of the stuff had been gathered up he turned back to the condemned. “By the way, this is private property. No one is around and no one is going to hear you try to scream around that gag. You are a pretty big boy, so I expect you to survive through at least two hatchings. You might die from starvation or de-hydration, but I don’t think you will. Remember, you deserve this.”

Jack had screamed at her father as he walked away. He screamed again when he heard the first of the buzzing.

*****

It hurt so bad, clawing at one hand to try and get enough skin and meat out of the way so that he could get loose. That pain was nothing though. It had been two days. He found out that the flies hatch from the eggs in about a day.  His back was on fire. Burning, tingling and stabbing all at once with a healthy dose of itch included.

The buzzing was so loud. They were all around the canoe as another one landed on his head beside his ear. The little bastard was crawling into his ear. Jack slammed his head sideways and tried to smash it, but it didn’t work. He could feel it in his ear.

He pulled at the handcuff and when his hand didn’t slip through, he screamed around the gag.

Again.

And again.

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Categories: Horror, Writing
  1. April 24, 2013 at 10:23 AM

    I like ‘Larva’ as a title. It will throw he reader off at the beginning, and they won’t understand it until they are deep into the story. Good job!

  2. April 24, 2013 at 10:55 AM

    ‘Retribution’ is what I can quickly come up with.

    • April 25, 2013 at 12:55 PM

      Retribution is pretty good.

      I discarded “Buzz”, “Bugs” and “Feeding” on my own. Still thinking though.

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