The 7th Night - Robert Thorn, ebook
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The 7th Nightby Robert Thorn(Editor's note to readers: This story contains graphic scenes that some readers might find disturbing. You have been warned.)It was the seventh night that I realized it would be pointless to continue any type of resistance. It was all too clear that they were going to do what they intended to do and no feeble struggle on my part would stop them. I had tried vehemently to stop them in the beginning, but none of my attempts at retaliation yielded any hope of success. This fact unfortunately forced me into an uncharacteristic state of pacification and submission, which I must say I now regret.Guns had virtually no physical effect on them. The deadly bullets rendered nothing more than tidy little holes in their skin, which sealed almost before I could follow with a second round. It matter not whether I fired into their face, head, or body. Furthermore, the irritation caused by the gunfire, triggered a merciless outburst in which they would pierce my spine with thin needles to make their point. Needless to say, gunfire was useless and unwise, unless of course I had the courage to turn it on myself, which I did not.Verbal protests were also fuel for their unpredictable tempers. My screams and curses would be played back at monumental volumes during the period of my nightly transfers to their realm, sometimes causing my ears to literally bleed. I'm sure they could understand or at least conceive the meaning of my spitting assaults, which made me feel a little better, but it was not worth the replay back into my own ears like millions of rooting worms.My last and most reluctant hope had been the disclosure of my situation to a few close friends. During my tentative confessions, I was careful to throw out small pieces of the puzzle at a time so that I could avoid committing myself to an eternal badge of insanity if the person seemed unwilling to open his or her mind to the reality of it all. If this was the case, I would then carefully sew up the remaining conversation with a suture tight enough to prevent it from coming back to me as a vengeful ghost. In most cases I was referred to the quick and easy solution of relaxation or professional counseling, which would have been the worst thing for me.As I awaited their arrival on the night in question, I did not bother with the pretense of sleep (even if it were possible) and lay awake contemplating an escape that could not occur. For the most part, escape would require the presence of walls, bars, or locked doors, physical or otherwise, which in this scenario simply do not exist. In the beginning I had tried to hide, sleeping elsewhere or confining myself to a remote location, but no tunnel was too dark, no well too deep, or no island too deserted for them to lose sight of my laughable business of evasion. They would find me and return me instantly to the dreaded road of transfer from this world to theirs (wherever that may be) punishing me with confinement in a dark tube for the inconvenience.As I mentioned, I was unable to grasp any hint of orientation which could provide even a general idea of where they were taking me, although I have become all too familiar with the dark denizens and strange landmarks of my interior destination within their facilities.Some will suggest that this interior destination lies somewhere on the troubled vistas of my mind, but as physical pain will tell you, this explanation would be too desirable a solution. No, there is no doubt that I have been physically moved somewhere outside of my normal realm of existence during these apprehensions and placed under the all-seeing microscope of their unmerciful probing. I have scars to prove it.The rooms in which I was confined to endure the unspeakable experiments were of shockingly primitive construction. The walls were made of haphazardly chiseled rocks which resembled greenish marble. Dirt, trash, and unidentifiable organic matter were littered along the room's edges in a purely careless fashion. Odd-shaped gelatinous masses affixed on the ceiling provided a purplish glow, giving the room a black-light type aura. I would have believed this place to exist on earth, but its entire feel, including the air, the strange appearance of physical matter like dirt, and my gut intuition told me otherwise. Their gift of advanced intelligence seemed to clash with their choice of environments.I first thought that during those times which I lay naked, sprawled upon that chilling black surface in their laboratory (for lack of a better word), that I was not the only one undergoing the unrelenting subjectivity of their curiosity. But my beliefs were altered after the third visit when I was placed in a room where I could hear the distant sounds of screams and moans. However cold and selfish, I felt relieved at this prospect of companionship.My first impression of the voices had been the obvious conclusion that they were screams and moans of pain just as mine were. But at a later visit, in which I was quartered within immediate earshot, I heard something more haunting swirling among the tortured wails. Screams and moans of pleasure! Not the pleasures of my own human-kind, but of their kind with slightly warbling timbres whose attributes could not be achieved by our thinner throat cavities. I was not mistaken! Their voices I knew intimately just as I might know that of a friend or television personality, although what they spoke was as enigmatic as the remotest foreign language. My horror now had been compounded by this discovery. As my every threshold for anguish was being explored, they engaged in carefree sexual pursuits next door. My brain seethed at the thought.A test which I suspected had a close relationship to these horrible sounds in the next room, came in the form of an unbound visitor to my room. It was a girl wearing a restricting apparatus that only exposed her body in brief strips of flesh which managed to poke out between the straps of its confinement. Her head was the only section of her body excluded from its uncomfortable application which ended at the top of her throat. Its ruddy black color contrasted with her white skin as it clamped in awkward and seemingly random points around her body. The harsh material stretched between these clamps giving her an obvious burden of dull pain.I reached out to her as if I were Frankenstein's monster and she were my bride, thrust together by the tragedies of our haunted existence. The curious abductors watched behind veiled glass. I could not see them, but their burning contemplation of my outward reactions to the woman bore into my back nonetheless.Her face smiled despite pain, raising her pure white cheeks ever so slightly, as she approached me. Her beauty could not be annulled by the hopeless condition and I wanted to free her from this terrible captivity no matter what the cost. But I did not get this chance. She was hastily removed by a rough orderly as they gauged my reaction. I never really understood the purpose of her visit.During the ordeal which had robbed me of six nights over the last month, I had lost my own incarnation of beauty whom I had planned to marry as soon as my financial situation stabilized. Lorna and I had been together since I had moved to Arizona three years ago. It had been the most satisfying relationship of my life, although I will be the first to admit that I was not always the ideal mate. In our second year I had an affair with a neighbor who shockingly confessed to Lorna in a state of drunkenness. I had seriously damaged our relationship, but was able to save it through counseling. Only Lorna would have forgiven me for such a n outright abuse of trust. I never thought of such a thing again.Looking back, I realize now that she could not have been expected to comprehend the things which were happening as she slept peacefully beside my vacant side of the bed. My description of the first two ordeals invoked a pitiable laughter which danced uncomfortably across her slender face. To her it must have seemed like a tasteless joke. Resentment began to burn inside me at her shallow treatment of my circumstance, but I had to give her a chance to consider my plea. I tried again two more times to convince her of my dire need for her understanding in the matter, but each time my case seemed more like a well-constructed science fiction story than reality. I could feel the separation hardening like a concrete wall between us and began to unexpectedly explode with anger at my merciless abductors. The pools of midnight sweat, bouts of maniacal frustration, and late night disappearances were more than she could endure. She finally left. I could not blame her.Regardless of my personal problems, the seventh night eventually led to the familiar black table. I barely took notice of the journey. They had already removed my clothes and I could feel the heavy stare of their bulbous eyes bearing down on my vulnerability as they must have been reviewing the night's agenda in their alien heads. I tried to transport my mind from this torturous anticipation, but I have never been good at fooling myself. The touch of their cold hands brought me back to the reality from which I never escaped.As he/it/she touched me with one hand near the lower portion of my body, the other brought forth a long steely rod ending in a sharp crescent, which looked like a large dental pick. In ritual, I tested the gravitational shackle which held the four corners of my limbs in scientific crucifixion. They were as firm as iron chains.It lowered the pick instrument toward my thigh where it paused in search of the proper destination. Finally I felt it bore into the tender flesh of my left inner thigh as he pushed it forcefully with his long fingers. The pain s...
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