THE RETICENCE OF EVIL
The room was quite and still.
The bed in the corner of the room was empty although not made up. The cotton sheets were soiled with blood and urine, and with the rooms windows bolted shut, the air in the room was dank and acrid. The stale air leaving the unlucky occupant of the stinking pigsty wanting to retch.
As the door swung open the encroaching occupant pulled his handkerchief to his mouth attempting to stifle the puke and phlegm flowing from his mouth, nose and throat.
He surveyed the scene making a mental note of the objects in the room and the total lack of any home comforts. The floor of the cell like space was uncovered, with the floor boards stained with urine and body fluids.
He pulled his mobile phone from his jacket pocket and started to take photographs with it camera application. As he focused the light sensitive lens across the room he suddenly felt a cold rush of air against his neck, and simultaneously fell forward as if kicked forcefully in the back of his legs. As he fell forward he swivelled his neck to grab a glimpse of wispy figure twisting and turning away from his line of sight.
As he concentrated on focusing his fading vision of the assailant that had knocked him to the floor, he felt a stinging and crushing pain to his spine as a dead weight drilled in to his back. His head smashed on to the stained floor boards as his failing lungs exhaled a spume of blood and carbon dioxide.
The floor directly below his prostate body cracked as the old wooden flooring cracked through the force being applied by the vicious assailant assaulting the prone figure, who was now unconscious and surrounded by his own sweat, phlegm and blood. His bowels had also failed and a putrid mess spread from the bulging crease in the rear of his beige slacks.
Hours passed passed and day had turned to night as the aching and stinking body recovered consciousness. Pulling his blood and shit stained body to his feet, he lifted his head and tried to focus his bloodstained eyes on the cracked mirror on the far wall.
As Pepe strained to recognise his own countenance, the door swung open and a large overweight woman, aged about sixty five yelled at the stumbling figure
"I've told you before about not cleaning your room you little shit. Now start cleaning yourself up and change those sheets you stinking little fucker. And stop taking photos to show your friends that i don't clean the room you lying little prat".
The startled figure stood shivering in the centre of the room, his bladder releasing an orange trickle of piss down his bloodied leg
"Yes mum" came Pepe's tearful reply and he motioned for his mother to leave the room.
As she shut the door he tried to mouth a further sentence to his mother but the words fell silent as he thought to himself
"have I been a good boy, Mum? or have I been bad again ?".............................
The room was quite and still.
The bed in the corner of the room was empty although not made up. The cotton sheets were soiled with blood and urine, and with the rooms windows bolted shut, the air in the room was dank and acrid. The stale air leaving the unlucky occupant of the stinking pigsty wanting to retch.
As the door swung open the encroaching occupant pulled his handkerchief to his mouth attempting to stifle the puke and phlegm flowing from his mouth, nose and throat.
He surveyed the scene making a mental note of the objects in the room and the total lack of any home comforts. The floor of the cell like space was uncovered, with the floor boards stained with urine and body fluids.
He pulled his mobile phone from his jacket pocket and started to take photographs with it camera application. As he focused the light sensitive lens across the room he suddenly felt a cold rush of air against his neck, and simultaneously fell forward as if kicked forcefully in the back of his legs. As he fell forward he swivelled his neck to grab a glimpse of wispy figure twisting and turning away from his line of sight.
As he concentrated on focusing his fading vision of the assailant that had knocked him to the floor, he felt a stinging and crushing pain to his spine as a dead weight drilled in to his back. His head smashed on to the stained floor boards as his failing lungs exhaled a spume of blood and carbon dioxide.
Hours passed passed and day had turned to night as the aching and stinking body recovered consciousness. Pulling his blood and shit stained body to his feet, he lifted his head and tried to focus his bloodstained eyes on the cracked mirror on the far wall.
As Pepe strained to recognise his own countenance, the door swung open and a large overweight woman, aged about sixty five yelled at the stumbling figure
"I've told you before about not cleaning your room you little shit. Now start cleaning yourself up and change those sheets you stinking little fucker. And stop taking photos to show your friends that i don't clean the room you lying little prat".
The startled figure stood shivering in the centre of the room, his bladder releasing an orange trickle of piss down his bloodied leg
"Yes mum" came Pepe's tearful reply and he motioned for his mother to leave the room.
As she shut the door he tried to mouth a further sentence to his mother but the words fell silent as he thought to himself
"have I been a good boy, Mum? or have I been bad again ?".............................
