Chairs

Chairs.
By Stephen A Abell.

Number Of Words: 892


Her eyes flickered open as she twisted in the chair. Something was wrong. Looking down, she noticed her wrists were bound to the arms of one of their carvery chairs. Glancing around quickly, she breathed a sigh of relief to realise she was sat in their dining room.

What was she doing here? She remembered feeling ill; nauseous; and she had taken herself to bed in the hope of sleeping it off. The heavy woollen covers enveloped her and instantly warmed her naked body, in a comforting heat.

A silver flash sliced the air before her and she screamed as the pain bit into her flesh.

“Damn, these bloody things are sharp!” Her husband exclaimed as he looked at the scalpel in his right hand. He was dressed in doctors greens, a long white lab coat draped over the top. Bending forward he picked up her amputated nipple from the floor. “Oops!” He smiled.

She watched as the blood ran warmly down the curve of her breast and dripped, in thick drops, onto her bulbous stomach. From inside there came a twitching.

“Junior’s hungry.” Doctor hubby pronounced jubilantly as she passed out into the safeness of unconsciousness.



Later.



The slap of a calloused hand across her face brought her out of the safe place.

“You don’t get off that easy you fuckin child murderin’ shit.” The man standing over her wore a uniform she could not recognise. She tried to rise up to flee her attacker, only to find herself restricted again. Her hands were manacled to the chair this time, and they looked oddly strange.

With her head immobile all she could do was scan the cold grey room with her eyes; finally halting on the reflection of the man in the window opposite. The man who sat restrained in the big wooden chair. She watched as the strangely uniformed figure lowered a hood over his head.

Her vision turned black.

“Fry the cunt,” an angry disembodied voice growled.



White Pain.



“Jesus Christ,” he screamed, sitting upright in his favourite armchair.

“Bad dream?” His wife asked, trying to stifle a giggle, and not succeeding.

“Yeah. An’ some weird shit at that,” he shook his head to push the sleep away.

“Weirder than this?” His wife’s legs sprang open to reveal her womanly parts, moist and glistening.

He leaned forward, the erection, instant in his pants.

The tentacles shot out of her dark valley with the speed of attacking serpents and wrapped tightly around his shoulders. With one vicious yank he was pulled from the chair and into the awaiting dark abyss, between his wife’s smooth creamy thighs. Somewhere in the darkness he heard teeth chomping, chewing, grinding.



White Light.



It hurt his eyes as he opened his lids. As he began to refocus on his surroundings a voice boomed, “Glad to have you back, sir. It was touch an’ go there. Didn’t know you had a reaction to novocaine. You feel okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied as he sat up in the dentist’s chair, head clouded and groggy.

“Well, you sit here and recuperate. We’ve called an ambulance. The paramedics should be here soon. I’ve got some other patients to see, but Britney here, will sit with you ‘til they arrive.”

As the dentist, opened the door to leave, he heard the screams of pain and the electrical grind of the drills doing their work. He was not sure but he thought there was arterial spray on the corridor walls outside. The door closed and shut out all sight and sound.

The buxom Britney in the too-tight dental nurse’s uniform stood up and moved slowly and provocatively towards him. He could hear the rustle as her stockings scraped against each other at the top of her, so fleshy, thighs.

He sprang forward, catching her off balance and they toppled backward into the window. The sound of breaking glass exploded in his head; shards of melted sand tore into his skin. Their bodies entwined as they fell, leaving rivers of blood behind them in the air. The Jaguar broke their fall, and their necks.



Darkness.



The door slammed into the side of her chair and sent her rudely to the floor.

“Oh, God,” The voice was worried, plaintive, and reassuringly familiar. “Here,” her husband proffered his hand, “let me help you up.” As she eased up from the hard floor he apologised, “I’m so sorry love. Thought you’d gone t’bed in here, I could here you snoring. I didn’t know you were still on the chair.”

“What time is it?” She enquired as she rubbed at the soreness in her eyes.

“Half two. I was missin’ you. You know I hate sleeping alone.”

“I only had a few hours to polish up this story and get it posted before the contest closed.”

“You did it?”

“Yeah, just in time too. You get in bed and I’ll turn off the computer and I’ll be with you in a couple of ticks.”

As he left the room she grabbed the mouse and clicked on the start bar. From the pop-up menu she clicked turn off computer, and seconds later confirmed the action.

One by one, the windows closed and the desktop died.

As the light on the monitor popped out of existence, all the light, around the world, went dark.



Darkness Stole The World Away.