An average Saturday, the clear skies of the day fade into the abyss that is night. On many occasions this wouldn’t be a problem at all, but tonight, you feel scared. Frantically looking in car windows as you walk for something you know isn’t there, any sound cursed at your ear. You want to go home. As you walk down the sidewalk on the way to your house, the creepy vibe you feel grows, as does your fear. You look to a parking lot to see what looks like chalk, but only one word. It reads “pictoratus”. You remember picatarus is Latin for “Picture” from your language classes. The word sends chills down your spine, even though you do not have a clue as to the meaning of the word. Then, in the blink of an eye, everything turns dark. You struggle but you feel as if you are being held.
You feel yourself being lifted up and thrown onto a hard floor. Immediately afterwards the sound of slamming doors fills your ears, leaving a ring. It feels like hours pass before you notice a bag being pulled off your head, revealing the dreaded word “pictoratus” again. Your hands and feet are bound by rope. Directly across from you is another person with a bag still on his face. On his bag the word “painted” is drawn in what seems to be marker. The panic of the situation is all that you could think of. You then see the window that separates the front and the back of the vehicle lower, and a pale hand takes your bag away. The window rises. Minutes pass before the vehicle comes to a pause. You hear the doors open, but can not see anything due to the darkness of the night. Then, the pale hands put the bag onto your face again, followed by a blunt force to your head.
When you awake you see the man chained to a steel table, the bag with the word “painted” still on his head. He is laying so that you can see the long side of his body. Your arms and legs are chained to a wall, unable to move more than an inch. A door opens from up the stairs, and a man in a golden suit walks down, gently closing the door behind him. He walks down slowly, humming under his voice, holding a suitcase. The lower he gets the more you see of him, eventually revealing a pale face, with more of slots than eyes. The area that designates a nose has small holes, this thing breathes heavily in between its humming. It walks to you and stops. It looks you right in the eye and does not blink. The humming has stopped, it smiles at you. Then this retched beast turns to the table with the man on it. It walks over and sets his suitcase down gently, smiling again, but this time showing its teeth. They point out in all directions, obviously made for tearing flesh. It then walks to the opposite end of the table, turns it’s suit case, and opens it.
The beast pulls out multiple knives and tools, ranging from saws to a screwdriver, and lays them down in an order of use. It picks up a knife no bigger than a switchblade, and lifts up the mans shirt. For some reason unknown to you, it is impossible to look away. The beast lightly cuts a line going from his bellybutton, to the bottom of his ribs. The scent of blood and ecstasy fills the air, as you find yourself enjoying his pain. The screams fill your soul with delight as you watch the personal slaughter laid out for you. The beast then grabs another knife, this one around 8 inches of blade size, and cuts under the man’s rib cage, bending with it, making a perfect outline of his diaphragm. It then does the same thing at his pelvis, but this time it makes a straight line. Then a cut connecting the two, bringing them together.
It then looks at you and talks in what seems to be multiple voices, of both men and women. It asks “This man was a Homosexual. Do you, in your honest opinion, think this to be punishable?” You grunt back honestly, but scared. “N-no, I do not”. The beast then nods its head and puts the 8 inch blade down. It picks up a screwdriver and raises it to its head. With one fast swing it is under the mans right kneecap from the left side. Within seconds a hammer swings down, hitting the screw driver, in turn shattering the mans kneecap and flipping it up. It makes eye contact with you. “This man committed thievery of a small business and did not go to prison. Do you, in your honest opinion, think this to be punishable?” Looking at the creature with slightly more courage, you speak. “Yes, I do”. The beast goes upstairs for a few seconds, and comes down with a lantern and a glass box that has a hole and hatch. Moving the hammer and screwdriver, it forcefully puts the mans leg in the hole, the area his kneecap used to be in the center, latch above it. It opens the latch and the lantern.
Hot coals are being poured from the lantern onto the mans wound. It waits until the coals have burnt into the man before using the screwdriver and hammer as a chisel the shatter the box on the mans leg. Looking up the beast says to you “Final judgment”. Picking up a 7 inch bladed knife and a plastic pill case, it proclaims “This man has cheated in 2 different relationships, sold drugs and alcohol to minors and addicts, and lied to many. On the other hand, he has adopted 2 children after his divorce, donated to many organizations, and stood in the very spot as you do now. He saved a mans life, but let him be judged by his fellow man. Do you, in your honest opinion, think this to be punishable?” You weigh the thought in your head for a few seconds and answer. “Yes, I do” The creature smiles again, and opens the pill box and tightens his grip on the knife. It takes the knife and slowly severs the mans ring finger. The sound of cracking bone fills the room, echoing. His screams do the same. Laughing, it then starts to cut down the middle of his fingers on the same hand, 3 inches deep every time. Then it turns over the pill box on the mans chest. Small razors fall out.
One of the razors falls into the diaphragm cut from earlier. The beast drops in knife on the floor and takes all but the one razors. It then inserts them one by one into the mans Adam’s apple. The man dies. The creature takes a bag out from earlier and walks to you. It points to the word “pictoratus” drawn on it. “The next phase of art awaits you”.
You wake up at home, right in your bed. Happily you stand up and take a look outside your window. Today is a new day, no time to think about past mistakes, it could have even been a dream. You turn around to see a word drawn in marker on your wall.
Original Author: ShawnHowellsCP