The Monsters Birth

Pain… A thousand knives were sticking into my body. Searing, throbbing pain. I thought my heart would stop as I endured the torture. I sizzled under the menacing lightning which was striking me down and showing no mercy. Why do I deserve this punishment? Please let me die. The lightning charged through every inch of my disfigured body like cavalry charging through a sea of enemies. One of the most agonizing experiences in my disturbing life to come. My senses cleared, but for the worse, as I could see blinding flashes of light and could now smell my own burning flesh. What kind of satanic spirit would permit this? Why is there not a gallant paladin bolting to my aid, to release me from the shackles of insanity. My body gradually moved more and more into frightful spasms. I tried to scream, but merely hawked and echoed it, through my throat. After what felt like two hours of unbearable pain, it stopped… The platform underneath me was moving into the dark abyss below. For the last time, I heard the distant rumble of thunder and the cold, hard rain, slicing at my chest, like ants. The shrieking wind, crying out for attention. The platform beneath me, crept lower and lower into the truth as to what happened to me and, my creator.

It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting below. My vision cleared and saw the room. It looked hellish. Scattered across the floor like breadcrumbs were begrimed, rusty instruments of science and torture which made me feel uneasy and scared. I shivered with fear every time I heard lightning or the occasional noises of the room. The creaking of objects or the scuttling of diseased rats along the scratched, splintered floor. The chamber reeked of an archaic demeanour which could only have been created by someone who has a deep fanatical interest with those that lie in supernatural practices. The few candles that there were, were nearly burnt out. I only managed to turn myself over and see massive towering machines, strewn with cobwebs and dust. Would I have to linger in this god forsaken abode of the dammed all my existence. The very idea caused me grief. It was then that my senses, heard someone, approaching in hurried footsteps. I could smell his sweaty body and feel his rattling breath turn to condensation on my shoulders. A hand then quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me down onto the floor.

I thumped to the floor and shards of material from the floor spiked me like a thistle. I gazed, vision blurry into the face of my creator. He had a crazed face with a hooked nose and white, pasty complexion. His hair was extremely greasy. My eyes finally came into focus. Being the only person in sight, I desperately tried to smile and then reached out my arms to him. I was sure that we would bond together well and that he would show me the same love. The man was speechless for a second with an air of excitement circling him. A haze of light allowed me to see the rough condition he was in. He had scratches and mud all over him. He was now examining me from head to toe with a look of concern on his face. To my horror, he then turned to me a glance which was the one I had been dreading. His body language contorted and the expression on his face twisted into one of maddened disappointment and sadness. He looked at me, disgusted with me as though I am nothing to him. I did not understand. Is it something I did? I reached out to him again and he lunged backwards from where I sat. He sank to the floor and screamed in despair at me. I was alone; he did not come to me, but only talked under his breath with stress patterns in his voice. With him gone I could feel the cold again and the shadows of depression creeping into my mind. I lay there, weeping…