Short Story – Joke

Not to be taken seriously…

Darkest Days by Allan Moore

Constantly drifting in and out of consciousness Moss surly knew this would be the end, with every ounce of strength in his body he reached his arm up to clutch the pendent around his neck from his once beloved. His mind wandering, he though back to when he had received the pendant, it was there first wedding anniversary, they had spent the whole day together wandering around Oxford, followed by a quiet evening with some horrible cooking he made him self, the food may have been bad but the company of his beloved was priceless. He knew she didn’t have much money he provided for the both of them, he also knew how much that pendent meant to her, she was given it when she was only a young girl by her father after her mum died, it was suppose to keep her safe… He managed to open his eyes once again, he took a quick look around the room before attempting to pull himself to his feet. After doing so he took one step forward before feeling a warm slimy sensation underneath his left foot, it was too dark in the room to see what is was, but he could only assume it was the remains of some of the other poor souls that had once found themselves trapped in this room as he was now. He knew if he didn’t want to face the same fate they had he needed to find away out of here. He moved to the front of the room, faced with a large iron door, he quickly felt around to see if there was any way to open the door with no avail. The door had no handle no lock or anything. Peering through one of the cracks in the door he could make out an iron deadbolt on the opposite side that was securely holding the door shut. Stepping back he remembered he still had a box of matches in his pocket, he took them out and as he removed a match from the box his hopes quickly faded as he realized they were now socked in his own blood, He tried to light the match but after a sudden burst of light it quickly went out, there was no way these matches were any use any-more. He peered around the room to see if there was anything useful, on the ground he could see the cold wet mattress he had just pulled him self off of. Behind it was some of the various torture devices they used on him, large absurdly shaped iron bars with wooden handles. To the left he could make out only what he assumed to be a pile of bones and rags, he moved over to them wondering if there could be anything useful hidden amongst the remains. Whilst doing so he noticed just underneath where the mattress lay there was a broken drain grate, once he was fairly confident there was nothing in the remains, he pulled the mattress off of the drain and lifted the broken drain gate off and threw it to the side. The smell coming from the drain was unbearable, and the hole it left was barely big enough for him to get through. He looked down the hole but couldn’t make out anything below it was too dark, figuring he had better chances down there than up here he grabbed one of the rags off the floor wrapped it around his nose and lowered him self down the hole. There was a slight drop and he then found himself knee deep in all the fowl fluids that had came from the rooms above, scattered above the surface was broken bone shards, rags and a thick layer of pure sewage. As bad as the situation was he still thought to himself this is nowhere near as bad as that time I fell down the stairs and found myself dangling from the handrail with my half erect penis out. What a sorry set of affairs.

Please don’t let me know what you think XD.

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