The Tale of the Floating Charnel House
[waves to people from customers_suck]
I'm in an enormous military-type ship - a destroyer, or an aircraft carrier, perhaps. With me are a few hundred non-military personnel, all dressed in orange coveralls (think workman's coveralls, not prisoner's jumpsuit).
There are an endless number of rooms, filled with pipes, gantries, and other industrial equipment. We are pursued endlessly by some faceless, omnipotent entity that is steadily decimating us - every time I enter a new room, I see different scenes of carnage. In one, a few dozen people have been impaled on meat hooks hung from the ceiling; in another, everyone has been gassed to death and have crowded against the door, tearing each other to pieces in an attempt to escape. Here, some are lined up, execution-style, against the wall; they died on their knees, their brains sprayed across the floor.
The worst part is that these deaths keep occurring every time I turn around. People die, soundlessly, invisibly, and only their corpses are there by the time I see. They seem to be dying in the same room with me and I can't see it or stop it, just weep with terror and guilt when I find the corpses.
I keep running, and running, trying to keep the people around me alive, knowing that our killer can wipe us all out at any time, but is killing a few here, a few there, just to torment me, drive me mad with fear.
One room has plastic painter's sheeting over the grey steel walls. Blood has splattered everywhere, in Pollock-esque patterns. I can't seem to find any body parts larger than a hand intact - half a foot lies in the corner, next to a crushed eyeball, a hank of hair still attached to a ragged chunk of scalp, grey brain tissue like jelly underneath. The floor is slick with fluids - blood, urine, vomit, feces. I feel bile rising in my throat, but can't throw up - have to keep running.
Corpses mouth silent screams as I pass them. Every room, everywhere, in every conceivable way, these people are being murdered and it's somehow my fault. I can't keep them alive. I can't stop the faceless, nameless, taunting killer. I can't escape the labyrinth of slaughter. Incredibly, despite the enormous size of the boat we're on, I can feel it rocking slightly. The engines are dead. We're not going anywhere. None of us are ever leaving this place again.
There are an endless, endless number of dead; those whose eyes are still intact seem to stare at me, pleadingly, accusingly. I'm screaming, sobbing, unable to keep people from dying whenever my back is turned, unable to keep my eyes on them every second. I'm stumbling, tripping over corpses, slipping on the gore-slick floors, running and running and running. The dying will never stop, and I must bear witness to it all. We will never get out.
I woke up screaming from that one.
I'm in an enormous military-type ship - a destroyer, or an aircraft carrier, perhaps. With me are a few hundred non-military personnel, all dressed in orange coveralls (think workman's coveralls, not prisoner's jumpsuit).
There are an endless number of rooms, filled with pipes, gantries, and other industrial equipment. We are pursued endlessly by some faceless, omnipotent entity that is steadily decimating us - every time I enter a new room, I see different scenes of carnage. In one, a few dozen people have been impaled on meat hooks hung from the ceiling; in another, everyone has been gassed to death and have crowded against the door, tearing each other to pieces in an attempt to escape. Here, some are lined up, execution-style, against the wall; they died on their knees, their brains sprayed across the floor.
The worst part is that these deaths keep occurring every time I turn around. People die, soundlessly, invisibly, and only their corpses are there by the time I see. They seem to be dying in the same room with me and I can't see it or stop it, just weep with terror and guilt when I find the corpses.
I keep running, and running, trying to keep the people around me alive, knowing that our killer can wipe us all out at any time, but is killing a few here, a few there, just to torment me, drive me mad with fear.
One room has plastic painter's sheeting over the grey steel walls. Blood has splattered everywhere, in Pollock-esque patterns. I can't seem to find any body parts larger than a hand intact - half a foot lies in the corner, next to a crushed eyeball, a hank of hair still attached to a ragged chunk of scalp, grey brain tissue like jelly underneath. The floor is slick with fluids - blood, urine, vomit, feces. I feel bile rising in my throat, but can't throw up - have to keep running.
Corpses mouth silent screams as I pass them. Every room, everywhere, in every conceivable way, these people are being murdered and it's somehow my fault. I can't keep them alive. I can't stop the faceless, nameless, taunting killer. I can't escape the labyrinth of slaughter. Incredibly, despite the enormous size of the boat we're on, I can feel it rocking slightly. The engines are dead. We're not going anywhere. None of us are ever leaving this place again.
There are an endless, endless number of dead; those whose eyes are still intact seem to stare at me, pleadingly, accusingly. I'm screaming, sobbing, unable to keep people from dying whenever my back is turned, unable to keep my eyes on them every second. I'm stumbling, tripping over corpses, slipping on the gore-slick floors, running and running and running. The dying will never stop, and I must bear witness to it all. We will never get out.
I woke up screaming from that one.