Excerpt: The Lost Isle of Lejus

(UNEDITED, UNBETAED, UNREVISED)

Whisper found herself walking down what seemed like an old, abandoned hospital. She had no memory of what had transpired before this and no recognition of her surroundings. She heard low masculine voices chanting, “ooooohmdraaaaa, ooooohmdraaaaa”.

Feeling dizzy, she leaned up against the wall. She was barefoot, in her thin, gauzy negligee. A diluted amount on moonlight filtered in through open doors and she realized she could easily see her nipples, her stomach and pubic hair through her nightie. She shivered and put her arms around her torso. She’d never realized how small her arms were. Though strong and lean they didn’t cover much of her body.

A scream split the air, at first strong and bold, almost arrogant in its strength. It wavered in no time though and became sad, giving up it’s hope for the owner’s escape and even life. Whisper shivered again, feeling that fear and loss within her own body. The hallway was cold and the tiles of stark white floor were almost painfully icy. She took a few steps, a little suspicious. Why did the rest of the place look so ruined but the floor freshly washed?

The chanting picked up and she wondered if perhaps she’d been sleep-walking, wandering and following the sounds of the chanting.

Walking forward took effort; not just through her fear and confusion but walking felt like stepping on knife-sharp ice. Her legs also felt tight, like the muscles had been tense. She attempted to stretch her legs and the pain was nearly unbearable. It felt as if there were metal rods inside her legs and if she tried to move against them the muscles were tearing off the rods.

Another scream broke her concentration and this time it lent to the air a song of despair. It didn’t sound like the first; this was just frustration because of pain being released through vocalization.

Whisper walked in the direction she hoped was away from the scream. The hallway was long and doors open brought more light into it; that wasn’t what she was looking for. Light meant windows and windows meant walls and walls meant dead-ends. For some reason, though she was far from a window to conclude she was correct, she felt as if she was on a floor above another. She didn’t know how high up she was but she was struck with a sudden certainty that she was not on a first floor.

Vertigo hit her but she pushed through it and walked past a room with an open door, the moon light like a spotlight on her.

Despite her need for light and warmth she didn’t need to be stuck in hole when someone came looking around. If they ever did. Wondering into the darkness could possibly mean finding an out.

Reaching the end of the hallway she was brought to a “T”. To the right was another long hallway, only this one was longer and with no doors leading into patient rooms. A great portion of the wall was a window and she figured it could be the nursery. To her left was a shorter hallway with a stairwell at the end but this hallway felt wrong. There were doors open but no light and maybe that wasn’t a bad thing, maybe that meant that she could take the stairwell and find the way out but she was frozen in the spot.

Though there was a chill in the air she felt her face flush and her body thrill with a nausea that broke upon her skin a sweet smelling sweat. A vile stench hit her nose and she became aware that she’d defiled herself.

She felt heat on her neck that was most likely breath. There was an overwhelming smell of rotten eggs and her eyes burned. She was afraid to break out into a run so she took a step, her eyes shut against the blow she expected to come, the hands she just knew where going to grab her and do horrible things to her.

Nothing happened. She still felt the heat; coming and then leaving her neck chilled with it’s rhythmic absence. She put her hand over her nose and attempted to filter the air coming into her mouth. It was thick with the permeance of the egg-taste. She fought back her gags, made her she covered her tits from view, not caring that her ass showed and took another step. She took another one.

Nothing happened. But the heat and the stench stayed.

A few steps later she felt herself stepping into a warm thickness, almost like wet glue. She didn’t want to look down, she fought the urge and continued walking in the near darkness, her eyes on the door with the pressbar and the window with the chicken-wire inside. It was her exit, her purpose.

It was when her foot came down on something that felt hard and soft and wet all at the same time that she squealed and jumped back. Without giving them permission, her eyes looked down at what she’d stepped. It was a hand, dark-skinned under the grayish film of death that flesh procures. There were no adornments and all the nails but the pinky nail were cracked or torn and hanging from the cuticle. The pinky nail was missing entirely.

Whisper didn’t have time to react farther than she already had. What she feared most happened. She felt strong bands come around her and she at first felt as it they were metal bands. When she struggled against them the thin material of her lingerie ripped. She brought her hands up and felt cold. Looking down it was white, as stark and bleached as the floor. But this was bone.

She screamed and struggled against what she could only guess was a skeleton holding her, but it had the strength of several men. She couldn’t get away and what was worse was she felt the bone against her back, buttocks and calves. The hands of the skeleton were roughly squeezing her tits, one moved down her abdomen, towards her pelvis and she screamed again.

She looked around for anything that might help her escape this and she felt even more horrified at what she saw. Looking into the room she’d just barely passed she saw a scene of torture, a brutal, vicious murder. An island native in burlap pants and a cotton shirt, red with blood, stood strapped to the wall, a single hand missing as well as his leg below the knee. The floor was slippery with his blood and she now realized that the floor was slippery with the blood of every islander tortured in the hospital; when she had approached the doorways that had been what had been going on.

How had she not noticed. The floor had been white, stark white. Hadn't it?

She wondered if the screams had belonged to this man, or someone in worse condition. Torn flesh and pieces of the body she didn’t dare to glance at for fear she would recognize them littered the hallway now as she looked around for help, for assistance.

Her stomach lurched violently.

She felt the cold bones pushing against her crotch and she screamed again. Struggling against the skeleton she couldn’t find purchase on the slippery floor.
Then the doorway to the stairwell opened and she stopped struggling. At the same time the skeleton abruptly let go and she fell down onto the tile floor, splashing into the blood floor.

She fought her nausea and scrambled in the blood and torn flesh to stand, the stench now a sweet one of blood and for some reasons she could smell ‘White Linen’.

White Linen?

Not sure how or against what, Whisper found purchase and pushed herself up. She slid more than ran across the hall and panicked reached the stairwell just as it opened all the way. She wasn’t sure what she would find but her hopes were that it was better than being molested by a skeleton.

Stopping directly in front of the stairwell she only had a moment to catch her breath before seeing who had opened the door. Looking in she found her mother, pinched face grim and ghastly white. Her eyes seemed to bug out of their sockets; she was dressed in a stylish yellow sweater and blue jeans much too young for her, but the clothing was ripped and bloody around the crotch and breasts.

“It’s your father, you know.”

Whisper fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands, still bloody from the floor.

“Your father had me murdered, my darling girl. See?”

Whisper didn’t want to see, she didn’t want to look up but seemed as if the skeleton was now pulling her head back by her hair. She screamed. Her mother had turned her head sideways. The back of her head was bashed in, bloody and missing large chunks.

“Now you die too, Whisper. Come to Mommy. You’ll all die now.”