Noire

Noire – A Short Story By: D. Hoover

 

 

 

     She stumbled out of the dark basement into the blinding light of day. As her eyes adjusted, she squinted into the blazing sun. She stood; swaying in the breeze like a spring sprout absorbing every ray. She looked down at her dirty, tattered dress, tossed her long, thin hair out of her face, and just stood there. She was no longer a prisoner in that cold, dark basement. Her captor was dead, and she was finally free...

     A tear rolled down her cheek as her eyes slowly opened. Her mind acclimated to the reality of her true surroundings. The tight chain around her ankle. The taste of copper in her mouth. The damp, cold air, and the dirty blanket that covered her. "Damn this re-occurring dream", she muttered. It's the dream she often dreams. A dream of the sun on her face, and the warm wind in her hair. A dream of freedom. A dream of utter fantasy...

     The one-eyed teddy bear looked menacingly at her from the lonely chair. She would tear it to shreds if she could reach it. Her visceral hatred for this object swelled up in her throat like hot acid. It was a reminder of something dark and distant; although her memories were fragmented, she knew this object held significance. The crackle of old speakers echoed through the dungeon. "Oh god no!” she shouted. And the children's songs began to play. The incessant, repeated songs. A fate worse than death...

     168 days in this basement… Every day was the same. She was given lukewarm water, some bread, and soup once a day… The children’s songs would play through the crackling speakers about two hours a day. A masked woman would come in about twice a week and taunt her. Sometimes the taunts would end in violence. This was a hell that no one should ever suffer. This was a place that should be reserved for the worst of animals. This place was a torture chamber wrapped in a nightmare. God must surely be dead to allow such cruelty.

     Her dim prison cell suddenly turned on with blinding, lights. She could clearly see the walls now. They were papered with a single girl’s picture. Above her door, she could clearly see, in large letters, Elizabeth Suddles. “Was that the little brat’s name?” she thought. The little wretch she starved to death in her own basement all those years ago? Was this her poetic justice? It all made sense now; but how did anyone know the details? She had buried her in her cellar. No one ever knew about that. How? Who? The lights violently flashed and then the entire place went black… She was left in the darkness to contemplate her horrible deeds… To be left alone forever…