The second set of short stories based on prompts such as first sentence starters and 3 random words. Some of these are quite old...can you spot the newer from the older?
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She tried to gasp for breath, but something was making it hard. Her eyes fluttered open only to find her head was foggy and her vision blurred. She tried to move, shake the fuzzy feeling away. She found she couldn't.
Then the panic set in. She tried to cough the foul smell away. The cloth over her mouth prevented her from doing so. The panic sky rocketed. She struggled. She couldn't move.
She was aware she was sitting upright. Her arms hurt. Her wrists. She was bound. Giving a sluggish kick of her legs, a failed attempt, at least, she found her legs were bound as well.
She shook her head, trying to regroup her senses. She couldn't remember how - what brought her into this situation.
Her watery eyes looked around. Everything was cast in shadows created by a single swinging bulb above her head.
Slowly, little things came to her. She was walking home. She was confronted by someone. She thought she was being mugged.
Then the world went black.
Her breathing increases, near hyperventilating.
Her eyes scanned the room frantically. She tried to push her hearing to pick up if she was alone.
The smell was awful. There was a chemical smell. It emanated from the cloth. But there was another smell assaulting her senses. Rot, decay. Death.
Her eyes finally adjusted.
There were stains on the floor, some puddles. The stains, a rust color. Brownish.
The puddles. Oh, god. The puddles were red. Crimson.
It was blood.
Her eyes picked up a single item on the edge of the shadows. Flies were buzzing around it.
A severed hand.
Oh, god.
She opened her mouth and screamed. Her throat constricted.
Then something cold was pressed there. There was a sting against her throat. A sliver. Then release. A machete came into her line of vision.
A voice in her ear.
"I don't like starting at the head. Be still. We'll start at your feet. One foot at a time. Shall we proceed?"
