The Audience, covering their eyes…
‘Like’ This Page is a two part thriller as stated in the title. If you are a little squeamish and horror stories and thrillers make you uncomfortable or downright terrified, you may like to give this story a miss.
One of the black hooded figures then withdrew two hot skewers, from the coals, with his gloved hands and approached the man in the chair.
Gasps and various sounds of disgust emanated from the crowd as, one by one, the skewers were inserted into the poor soul’s nostrils. An agonising scream filled the room momentarily, but with one sharp push, the metal spikes were inserted all the way up and into his brain.
Quickly gazing around I saw many in the audience covering their eyes, or actually throwing up. I had to suppress that urge myself.
The screams stopped as quickly as they started and the man’s head slumped forward onto his chest, but his torturer had not finished yet. Two more skewers were selected and the previous process repeated, only this time into the man’s ears. He didn’t issue any further sounds, but his body seemed to convulse and shudder.
The person in black withdrew the two remaining skewers from the coals, seemed to turn and stare at the audience for a second, and then stabbed them into the captive’s eyes. The eyeballs popped and blood and ooze poured down the cheeks.
The audience had fallen into silence, sitting in shock at the gruesome scene before them.
Then, in an instant, and what seemed like one fluid movement, the black clad figure withdrew a razor sharp blade from his coat, reefed back the blonde head, and slashed the man’s throat. Blood gushed out like a fountain splashing many in the front row who screamed, and tried to jump back into the seats behind.
The other dark figure returned to the stage and together they picked up the chair and dragged it and the lifeless body away.
The audience sat in shock, frightened to move until a harsh voice sounded from a loudspeaker, “You may leave!” Wherein everyone jumped to their feet, pushing and shoving in their hurry to escape this horror show.
As I made my way out of the building my feelings were a jumble of disgust, shock, horror, but also excitement and exhilaration. I tried to make sense of what I had witnessed.
While driving home I realised that the victim must have been chosen at random from the numbers held by those people attending the event. It would have been a simple matter for him to be ushered through a different curtain than the other spectators, especially as only one person entered at a time. How did they get away with this though? What about the bodies – how did they dispose of them? A hundred questions spun around in my brain.
I felt a sense of relief that my own number hadn’t been chosen, but that was soon followed by an adrenalin rush as I realised how close I had come to being executed. It was a 1 in 50 chance. Wow!
I didn’t tell my family about the night, or what I had witnessed. How could I? I told my wife I had been to attend a baseball game – something she can’t stand, and would not question further.
Once again this horror invaded my dreams and more than once I awoke tossing and turning in troubled sleep. A week later I received an email, “Another live performance has been arranged. A confirmation letter containing your allocated number will be mailed to you shortly.”
To say I wasn’t excited would be a lie. I wondered if the other participants felt the same way. In fact I was both excited and afraid. What if my number was the next one chosen? Maybe I only had a couple more weeks to live. I’d better put my affairs in order just in case.
This was a real-life game of Russian Roulette and I couldn’t wait to find out – whatever the result. I knew this was crazy, but I anxiously checked the mail every day
Within the week, a black envelope arrived.
by John Hansen © 2016
After a lot of procrastinating I have finally self-published my first eBooks of poetry "I Laughed a Smile" and "On the Wings of Eagles" at Lulu.com.Now I find myself branching out and experimenting with short fiction.
I have also been fortunate to have two poems chosen to be made into songs and recorded. The first "On the Road to Kingdom Come" by Al Wordlaw, and the second, "If I Could Write a Love Poem" by award-winning British singer Tally Koren.
I am also finding my services increasingly in demand as a freelance writer and I have ghost-written the text for a number of children's books and educational tutorials.
My personal life is largely devoted to spending time with my wife on our 40-acre property and together trying to lessen our footprint on our precious planet Earth and encouraging others to become as self-sufficient as possible.