Caged (part of it)

                                                                                                Caged
                                                                                                By Amanda
                                                                                                    Scroggins
    I heard the sound of rocks being kicked and the sound of heavy breathing come from behind me. I felt my hair staind on end and my hands begin to tremble. "Come now, child," someone said behind me in a high, screechy voice that was meant to be comforting, but sounded scary to my ears. "Turn around so I can see your pretty little face," the voice said, and, even though I didn't want to, I turned slowly around. My mouth opened and my face went pale. I was unable to breath and my entire body began to shake.
    Even though I knew that the creature behind me was human, his features made him look like a monster. He had thin, bony arms and legs, with wrinkles covering every inch of his body. He wore rags instead of clothes, and had multiple holes in his shirt and pants. His fingers looked more like black skeleton bones, and his nails had been bitten so much that they were only half the length of normal fingernails. My eyes slowly roamed up his body until I got to his face; then I couldn't look anywhere else.
    His face was the most horrible part of his demonic body. He had dark circles underneath his eyes and his face had multiple sagging wrinkles. He had red eyes with forever-dialated pupils in the middle. The eyeball was yellow instead of white, with red lines set all over it. His teeth were so yellow they were almost orange. He had black gaps where five of his permanent teeth had escaped his awful, garlic-smelling mouth. There were holes and cracks in every tooth that I looked at, and I wanted desperately to look away, but I was paralyzed. Although the creatures hair was supposed to be white, it had been smeared with so much mud that it looked like he had brown hair. The only thing that gave him away was the chunks of dirt found in his hair.
    The man's beard had bits of food in it and huge clumps of knots. I noticed that it was smeared with blood, and that he had scars all over his face. I knew that he had been in many fights, and that he had won all of them. The victim didn't even crawl away to his family; he would just lie sprawled in his own blood, unmoving and not breathing. At the thought of breath I realized that i needed some badly, and I took in a deep breath, then let a shaky one out. My knees were trembling feircly, so I unconsciously laid my hand against the wall to keep me from blacking out. My eyes darted around, trying to find an escape route. The walls on either side of me were smooth, with no foot holes nor hand holes to allow me to climb out. The ugly creature blocked my path in front of me, so I couldn't run out.
      The only other option was the wall behind me. But even that was a bad choice. Even though I could easily find foot and hand holes, the moment I turned my back the man would shoot at me with the silver, rusted pistol he held in his hand.
      The man seemed to read my thoughts. "You're smart," he said, "not turning your back on me. 'Cause if you did..." He flipped the gun in the air and caught it. He pointed it at me and laid his hand on the trigger. "Let's just say it wouldn't be a pretty ending." Suddenly his smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed. Then he ran toward me and slapped me so hard that I stumbled and nearly fell. "Don't act so scared!" he screamed as he walked back to where he had been standing previously.
      I leaned against the wall for a second, panting. Then I brought my hand up to my stinging cheek and felt something sticky underneath my fingertips. I brought the hand in front of my eyes and saw something dark covering them. Blood. I began to breath easily as my brown eyes were hidden by my dilating pupils. I stood up straight, rigid as a board, and tensed. I wiped my hand on my brown pants, leaving a red stain on them.
      My predator may not have known it, but he had just slapped some sense into me. I will admit that he was right; but I had a different tactic on not being scared.
      My attacker took a deep breath, then said in a calmer voice, "Now, come with me, child. There's nothing to worry about,"
      "There's a gun in your hand!" I screamed, surprising him. "There's plenty to worry about!" My strong, angry voice had done exactly what I had wanted. "Shut up or I'll shoot you!" the man growled, his calmness gone. He pointed the gun at me and laid his finger on the trigger. "I mean it," he added, as though I didn't already know.
      I held up my hands and stepped out where he had a clear shot. "Go ahead," I said. "Fire."






                                                                                    Read the next part of Caged soon!