Short Fiction: Echoes of captive hands

Image provided by Wendelin Jacober through Pexels

I didn’t deserve to be rescued, but I had to be selfish one last time. The underground maze proved difficult to navigate for my pursuer in blue. My labyrinth home would be my escape; each turn led me to the next narrow walkway laden with thick steel doors on either side. Ignoring their cries for help, I could barely hear the police dog’s barking as the screams and smacking of bare hands against steel echoed through the winding corridors. My mask obscured my vision and made breathing a task in itself. Not that I’d prefer huffing the dust and grime the concrete walls swirled around, but it definitely slowed me down.

To think I’d never fill my home like I’d imagined. So much potential in that old wreck. I was the overlord of my own personal paradise where I could take what I earned whenever I like. I was so close to finishing my collection. They were almost perfect.

The barking started to get louder with every step now. I know now that at this point the well-trained, feverishly riled, German shepherd (who wanted nothing more than to sink its teeth in me) had been unleashed. My night-vision didn’t do me much good. What’s worse, the damn thing was able to track my scent. It make my evasive maneuvers look like a drunkard’s impression of the Ministry of Silly Walks. That’s one thing those steel doors were good at, keeping in smells. Now if the odours of those cells had seeped through maybe I would’ve had a chance at getting away. Oh bollocks I’ve spoiled it now haven’t I?

Yeah, yeah it’s no surprise the attack dog from hell managed to chase down a lad in skinny jeans who’d spent the last few days up to his nuts in guts with a pair of nostrils that’ve taken more hits than the Gaza Strip. Tell you what though, took them days to drill through them old doors and it sounds like they weren’t too thrilled with what they found. It was too late for some of them.

I’m told the total’s at eight right now. Insulted won’t cover it if they think that’s all I managed to collect down there. I do hope they’ll keep looking. Course, it’ll be a lot harder to find them now. The place must be eerily quiet. Soon enough they’ll decide it’s a waste of resources now they know they’re digging for bodies.

I can’t wait for the trial date.

I get to find out which ones they found.

Published by Owen Corkin

https://the-write-owl.com/

One thought on “Short Fiction: Echoes of captive hands

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: