Ebony Island

Captured, tortured, malnourished; traits of the humble people that knew too much. Ample amounts of information that could lead to the collapse of the Fellicion Corporation - an enterprise that provides the W.E.A. (Western and Eastern Alliance) with biological and ballistic weaponry and supplies - is being held by one of the fifteen captives held in the jail. Only question that remains is who holds the intelligence and who is just an average bystander? With the US all ready suspicious of their illegal activity, the higher-ups of the organization must move quickly to find the informationand they will do anything to obtain it.

Chapter 1: An Abrupt Silence

Moonlight seeped through the rusty, brown barsa poor excuse of a window that only brought salty air and the soft sounds of crashing waves against the rocky cliffs. A rickety bed with bloodstains held the silhouette of a skulking prisoner, sitting with his head hung low. His cracked, dry hands holding his sweaty head, exhausted from the brutal treatment the guards have left on his fragile body. With blood trickling down a minor cut along his brow, he stared ruefully at the window. The scream of a woman from a couple cells down echoed through the oxidized building...or at least the building was recently on fire; to either burn the bodies of the previous prisoners, or this place really was a shithole. Her name was mystery to every other prisoner. No one remembers their names, as there was never a moment to exchange them amongst others. The only people anyone sees are the ones being dragged across the cement flooring in the dark hallways, and the men dressed in body armor with dark helmets to shield their faces against our silken eyes. The lust for communication to ease the insanity that clouded the minds of the prisoner was a far cry from what the home he wanted to be back in. The loneliness sparked suicidal contemplation, yet the man endeavored whatever was thrown at him with clinched teeth. Screaming only made it worse.

The man - like everyone else - was branded like a cow or slave. Scar tissue in the form of the letters FC in a three-inch diameter on the right breast so to remind them that they are bound to torture, that they are not dreaming the nightmare they endure day and night.

All that was left to do after the torture was to sleep and regain your strength for the next round. Eating the slop that they serve you three times a day is the only thing to look forward to in a day, entertainment with your own certain part of your anatomy only makes the depression worse. The knowing that you will never again get to feel the softness of your lovers skin drove a few prisoners to their suicide; hoping that the God that they believed in would be forgiving enough to let them in heaven. However, for the shadowy prisoner, heaven and death were not an optionhe had to survive. Something drove him on, whether it be instinct or the loose grip on sanity, he clung to his pathetic, worthless life with hopes to see the people he once loved. His past history escaped his mind, only the last three weeks, two days of hell were the only life he now dwell on.

As he waited for his next brutal torment and misery, his eyes clamped shut tight, as the world around him came to a complete halt. The screams from the woman came to a standstill and the sound of his own body hitting the pavement face first didnt even reach his own ears. His real Hell was truly now about to start.

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Well, slow beginning, the story will pick up quite quickly next chapter.

Well done! The story already has a moody, dark setting, which you painted very effectively. Your writing seems very patient; a thing which is rare yet essential in most horror/survival stories.

Keep writing. I want to read the next chapter.

Some edits:
"...all ready" In the first paragraph should be 'already.'

"...the brutal treatment the guards have left " There should be no possessive apostrophe there. Perhaps you first wrote it as "The guards' brutal treatment had left..." or some such variation.

"Her name was mystery to every other prisoner." To make this sentence correct, either capitalize "mystery (Mystery)" or put "a mystery."

This post has been edited by Jest3r on August 09, 2006 05:22 pm

Chapter 2: Keen Eye

The sound of muffled, distant voices reached the mans eardrums. The soft patter of fresh, pure water came down upon his whole body, washing away some of the grogginess in his body. Eyelids weighing what felt like a ton, his damp eyes slowly opened. His vision blurry, and the water still coming upon his body, he shuddered slightly. The muffled voices ceased abruptly.

The man groaned slightly, dragging his right arm towards his face, and immediately stopped; he was lying down on pavement. The jailhouse only had old, gray cement, yet this was black pavementthat of what a road should be. The man slowly turned his head towards his arm and brushed off the sleep from his eyes. With eyes now fully adjusted to his surroundings, the first new awaken images made him feel like he was having one hellva trip. The branded man saw what looked to be large white buildings which looked to be from some sort of future. The roads had the feel, scent, and look of just being put down, the sidewalks were in just the same way. The sky was heavily overcast, with rain slightly drizzling down on the mans face and into his eyes. The man blinked away the rain drops and slowly started to sit himself up, one ligament at a time. A few low-keyed voices were heard from behind him, making his sluggishly twist his neck around to see who was conversing.

A group of people was huddled by a barrel, which held small flames inside. They set it underneath a balcony that was connected to one of the newly built buildings to keep the saturation off the fire and themselves. Their garments, unlike the town, looked to be from the Salvation Army or Goodwill; small pricks and holes are shown on their jeans and assortment of shirts. Looking upon himself, he too was wearing civilian clothing. One of the five of the scraggly people emerged out of the group and made his way towards the figure. The shadowy figure fixed his eyes upon the black man. With his dark hand reaching out to help him up, the man took it. As blood rushed to his head, the feeling of the world around him almost escaped once more.

Whoa buddy, the black man exclaimed in a very deep voice. Keep your feet planted this time. You dont need to relive the experience of another head injury. With his feet finally situated, he wiped his wet, black hair out of his eyes and gulped a thanks towards the man.

Well, youve been out for a couple days now; found you laying in out of the metallic ditches over yonder, the man said, pointing towards the direction. Well, you looked to be in an OK shape, surprisingly. You probably noticed that your environment is a little bit different than say, a couple days ago. You know as much as we do, believe it or not.

The man sighed and put his fingers to his eyes, rubbing them irritatingly. He put his hand on the mans back and slowly gave him a slight push to follow him back towards the others.

Well, all of us - even you - were taken from our jail cells with black masks covering our heads. We dont know where we were lead to, but most of us believed that we went for a helicopter ride for some time. Then the rest is a haze; they drugged each of us and we went lights out. He gave a long sigh once more and I just eyed the ground some more. How did I become unconscioushow could I not remember anything?

Yeah, a man in a blue jacket with a blue beanie one his head spoke up. We all then just came to inside a broken down chopper. Obviously the helicopter didnt crash land; the pilots, the guards, and the others were gone. So they probably just separated us in a city and are playing mind games on us.

The mysterious man shook his head in understandment, but nothing was really triggering in his mind. He looked up towards the man in the blue jacket and caught his hand slowly coming towards him.

Names Mike, he said slowly and paused for a short while before murmuring underneath his breath: Prisoner number 0-0-8.

The mysterious man exchanged the other hand with a handshake and responded with his name: I, uhnames Maxxwith two exs.

Well Maxx-with-two-exs, the black man spoke up. This here is Elsie- pointed to a dark haired woman in her early thirties. -Aliasreal name or not- as he bobbed his head towards a man that was in the process of graying hair. And, finally, this is-

I can take it from here; Benton, a man stepped towards Maxx with an outstretched hand, as Maxx shook it. He wore a long green sweater with a dirty white t-shirt underneath From what we have gathered - Kevin here didnt fully inform you of our situation - the ground that we have covered has been clear. Its weirdits a complete ghost town. Benton rubbed his hands together by the fire, letting the water drops roll off his fingers and into the burning inferno.

Since weve been here for the last twelve hours, we have only heard one single noiseONE. It sounded like a snap or pop from gunfire. So we know we are not completely alone-

-that noise could have been anything! Alias exclaimed angrily. It could have ranged from a gun to a window shattering, and lets hope its the other over the first. Last thing we need is to be shot at.

Im positive it was a fucking gunshot, Benton snarled at him. I was a police officer for three years, and I know what Im talking about. It was probably a small caliber gunpretty sure handgun. Benton paused for awhile, looking out into the distance before going on. Well, that was roughly a few hours before we picked up your carcass. The building weve been huddling under is locked, as are the majority of the buildings. No signs of cars or gas stationsjust generic white sky scrapers.

Bizarre structures as well, Kevin piped up. He went over and felt a side of the building softly with his rugged hand. I wasAM an architect. I have never seen a building like this. It feels like thin metal, but no concrete implicated in the building of this structure. In fact- he said, looking all around them. -Nothing looks to be made of concrete besides the pavement. Hell, even the sidewalks feel to be made of high quality alloy. Its a mayors dream city.

Maxx gazed at his newfound environment with wonder. He thought Tokyo was nifty, but this takes the cake. There was not just one window after another: the buildings had dark blue, vertical elongated windows, but on the outside, there was an inability to peer inside. The dark streets was clear of water, as they had a slight incline to keep the water from lingering on the street, but go through the drainage systems in the ditches. The streetlights hung horizontally on the buildings across the streets, as a faint blue light shown, lighting up the environment ever so slightly. A few blinking blue lights erupted systematically across the buildings.

Have we awaken to a future city of yesterday?

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Wow, a bit of a resurrection. Anyway, to the person/people that are reading this, did you get the sense of an alienated city? (No, I'm not saying this takes place on a different planet...)