in the dim light, a bruised and broken man in a battered and broken chair. rope around his wrists, drawn tight enough that tiny flecks of blood traced would be rivers across his skin. his clothes were a mess, shirt collar ripped wide, mud and god knows what else caking the heels of his pants. they were silk pants, too.

slowly, this bedraggled form stirred, an inkling of consciousness emerging in his oaken eyes. with a groan, all the pains accompanying waking channeled into a single, albeit drawn out syllable, he opened them. after copious amounts of blinking, eyes fluttering in time with the broken fan struggling to spin over his head, comprehension dawned as well. as his brightening eyes wandered the peeling paint and cracking tiles, his confused thoughts wandered a blur of memories and darkness.

his chaotic reverie was interrupted by the violent onset of company. the rusty door behind him burst wide, slamming into the unfortunate wall with a hollow clang. the wall across from him was thrown into sharp relief, and it vaguely occurred to him it would have been kinder to leave it in shadow. echoes of the door’s abuse faded, but not before providing a melody to the slow, deliberate tread of whoever had had entered.

he squirmed apprehensively, nerves overwhelming him. the footsteps ended, a second of silence hanging in the air. the chair was roughly grabbed from behind, and his world spun round to meet his enigmatic antagonist. shrouded in shadow, this stranger appeared an ogre in shape, if not in substance. one massive arm remained extended over his shoulder, gripping the chair’s back so tightly that it splintered a little.

squinting, his eyes contracted to tiny slits, as if to cut away the shadows. though the behemoth’s face was a mere few feet from his, he could not penetrate the veil of darkness drawn across it. the few seconds he spent staring, praying to decipher this cryptic shroud, felt as if they were drawn out to years upon the rack of time.

somewhere in that blackness, that hole where a head should be, a flicker. vague, immaterial, but growing steadily more distinct. he focused, forehead furrowing just a little more. in the blink of an eye, the image solidified, and as he recoiled, screaming in horror, he wished it had not. an elongated skull, lower jaw disjointed and flapping menacingly, emerged arcing towards his contorting face. like his stare, his scream seemed to last forever, before it faded, taking him down with it into catatonically ignorant bliss.

Hope that was somewhat enjoyable. A note about the capitalization (more specifically, lack there of): It is intentional, and not a byproduct of my abundant laziness.