Stranded Darkness

SavourYou30

Sippy McLickerfannie
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Jan 4, 2011
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Stranded Darkness (Open for new female lead)

This is a dark erotic thriller. I narrate in 2nd person limited voice. Through me are all your senses. You are the protaganist. You think and feel. You respond to your surroundings, 1st person, female. Seek quick, vivid, evocative prose. The protagonist is not seen. She is the reader. She is you.

Your eyes begin to barely adjust to the rusty pale light but your ears are screaming; the echoes of sudden shrieking metal, desperate gasps, acrid tire howl, clawing tree trunks. The thin metal sheet wall bow and shudder in the gully breeze. Some sort of tool shed. Someone must have pulled you from the wreckage. Through the cracks you see the base of a tall dark evergreen wood. There are chains on the door.
 
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I try to stand... wincing in pain as something tightens, cold hard metal keeps me from moving far... realizing I'm chained and freezing cold...
 
I try to stand... wincing in pain as something tightens, cold hard metal keeps me from moving far... realizing I'm chained and freezing cold...

Outside the rustling branches quiver and rasp against the walls... tap, tap, growl... a dog outside clawing at the pine needle strewn ground. The glint of his eyes shimmer against the grey. Footsteps, one, two, one, two... slow, getting closer, almost human.

"Get back boy" a voice commands.
 
Trying to scoot back against the thin cold wall, my feet and hands claw the dirt floor. My eyes are open wide, straining in the darkness. The cold metal bonds and wall behind me keep me more or less in the same place, chained, helpless. My heart pounds almost painfully, feeling like it will tear free of my chest. I try to bring my arms together, to hide my chest as I hear the male voice outside, but there's not enough slack.
 
Trying to scoot back against the thin cold wall, my feet and hands claw the dirt floor. My eyes are open wide, straining in the darkness. The cold metal bonds and wall behind me keep me more or less in the same place, chained, helpless. My heart pounds almost painfully, feeling like it will tear free of my chest. I try to bring my arms together, to hide my chest as I hear the male voice outside, but there's not enough slack.

"What is it boy?"

Louder. Angry. "Leave it alone. Probably just a raccoon." The dog snarls. Footsteps closer. A man's shadow crawls under the steel paneled wall. A dark metal tube pulls back against a rusted fissure, hollow like a gun. "I don't see anything in here boy... let's go." A rustle of leaves and a retreating shadow, one second, two, then freezes. "Wait a second"
 
My ears perk up at the confusion on the other side of the door. My fear broken, I speak up....

"HELP! Get me outta here! Please!!!" I forget my helpless condition as I plead for rescue.
 
My ears perk up at the confusion on the other side of the door. My fear broken, I speak up....

"HELP! Get me outta here! Please!!!" I forget my helpless condition as I plead for rescue.

The man sprints back and peers into a crack on the wall. "Hello? What the hell..." Clang, clang as he tugs against the old chains. The air fills with thick metallic dust, the sheet metal warbles but holds fast. "How did you get here?"
 
"I... I don't know... I think I had an accident. I just woke up here."

Feeling very small and scared again, chained helplessly to the cold metal wall, I notice pine needles poking my soft bare ass.
 
"I... I don't know... I think I had an accident. I just woke up here."

Feeling very small and scared again, chained helplessly to the cold metal wall, I notice pine needles poking my soft bare ass.

"Accident? There isn't a road for miles. "Are you hurt?" He lifts a large log and begins pounding against the rusted lock. Thunder and scrape. Twice more. The chain severs and he quickly ravels it back and your face is flashed with sunlight. "Oh fuck... What the..."
 
Looking up in terror I begin to realize how exposed I am. "I'm not sure... I know I ache all over" I respond... Cringing in the corner, chained...
 
Looking up in terror I begin to realize how exposed I am. "I'm not sure... I know I ache all over" I respond... Cringing in the corner, chained...

The somewhat rough looking man in canvas work pants kneels down beside you, rolling up his sleeves, the coarse wool fabric brushing against your knee as he gets closer. "Can you move? You are pretty cut up."
 
I nod meekly. "I think so" I say. I slump against you, for warmth. Shivering...
 
I nod meekly. "I think so" I say. I slump against you, for warmth. Shivering...

His rough hands grasp under your wrists. "Shackles? What kind of sick fuck would do this?" His finger tips trace around the crude iron devices, wisping against your arms. "I don't have anything to cut these off." He fumbles around in the dim shed, searching under boards and scrap. You catch his eyes make a quick glance up your mostly bare shivering legs. "I have some tools back in the cabin."
 
Stranded Darkness (Needs one more)

This thread now open for a replacement female protagonist. PM to apply.
 
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Bump. I am in need of a top notch female mind; captivating, erotic.
 
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His voice.

There's a distant familiarity to it, a ring to it that echoes the same timbre as that of a voice hidden somewhere in my past, that's muffled by years of life, of sighs, of whimpers. Even here in the dark, in this hell, it comforts as well as sends a cool finger of mystery slinking down my spine.

He moves to stand, the coarse fabric of his pants grazing my leg and I want to beg him to stay beside me and never leave. Die here with me now. But I can't.

As he moves about the cabin. I fight to keep my eyes from squeezing shut, as his movements cast shadows against the wall, of disfigured forms trapped within the confines of light and shadow, bursting for freedom.

His turns his back and takes a step forward the shed door.

"W-w-wait. Please. Don't- don't leave me here. Please."



Sorry, Savourdude. Just...just needed to get some words out. Carry on.
 
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He pauses for a long, dragging moment and turns his head toward you, his hands caressing the dark wooden stock of his hunting rifle, thinking... a rough sigh.

“What's your name?”

The deep rasping voice barely shakes its way through the clamor of the shed walls, relentless wind, howling, like tormented spirits, angry, careening around the towering pines. He slowly lowers himself into the dust beside you, his scent rugged; leather, sawdust, gun oil. His hand lays heavily upon your arm, his knuckles cracked and weathered, almost grotesque next to your smooth delicate flesh. Your skin tingles. A glimmer in his eye...

“Does anybody know you are out here?”
 
Here is the story content of the thread condensed into one spot:

(This is a dark erotic thriller. I narrate in 2nd person limited voice. Through me are all your senses. You are the protaganist. You think and feel. You respond to your surroundings, 1st person, female. Seek quick, vivid, evocative prose. The protagonist is not seen. She is the reader. She is you.)

Your eyes begin to barely adjust to the rusty pale light but your ears are screaming; the echoes of sudden shrieking metal, desperate gasps, acrid tire howl, clawing tree trunks. The thin metal sheet wall bow and shudder in the gully breeze. Some sort of tool shed. Someone must have pulled you from the wreckage. Through the cracks you see the base of a tall dark evergreen wood. There are chains on the door.

I try to stand... wincing in pain as something tightens, cold hard metal keeps me from moving far... realizing I'm chained and freezing cold...

Outside the rustling branches quiver and rasp against the walls... tap, tap, growl... a dog outside clawing at the pine needle strewn ground. The glint of his eyes shimmer against the grey. Footsteps, one, two, one, two... slow, getting closer, almost human.

"Get back boy" a voice commands.

Trying to scoot back against the thin cold wall, my feet and hands claw the dirt floor. My eyes are open wide, straining in the darkness. The cold metal bonds and wall behind me keep me more or less in the same place, chained, helpless. My heart pounds almost painfully, feeling like it will tear free of my chest. I try to bring my arms together, to hide my chest as I hear the male voice outside, but there's not enough slack.

"What is it boy?"

Louder. Angry. "Leave it alone. Probably just a raccoon." The dog snarls. Footsteps closer. A man's shadow crawls under the steel paneled wall. A dark metal tube pulls back against a rusted fissure, hollow like a gun. "I don't see anything in here boy... let's go." A rustle of leaves and a retreating shadow, one second, two, then freezes. "Wait a second"

My ears perk up at the confusion on the other side of the door. My fear broken, I speak up....

"HELP! Get me outta here! Please!!!" I forget my helpless condition as I plead for rescue.

The man sprints back and peers into a crack on the wall. "Hello? What the hell..." Clang, clang as he tugs against the old chains. The air fills with thick metallic dust, the sheet metal warbles but holds fast. "How did you get here?"

"I... I don't know... I think I had an accident. I just woke up here."

Feeling very small and scared again, chained helplessly to the cold metal wall, I notice pine needles poking my soft bare ass.

"Accident? There isn't a road for miles. "Are you hurt?" He lifts a large log and begins pounding against the rusted lock. Thunder and scrape. Twice more. The chain severs and he quickly ravels it back and your face is flashed with sunlight. "Oh fuck... What the..."

Looking up in terror I begin to realize how exposed I am. "I'm not sure... I know I ache all over" I respond... Cringing in the corner, chained...

The somewhat rough looking man in canvas work pants kneels down beside you, rolling up his sleeves, the coarse wool fabric brushing against your knee as he gets closer. "Can you move? You are pretty cut up."

I nod meekly. "I think so" I say. I slump against you, for warmth. Shivering...

His rough hands grasp under your wrists. "Shackles? What kind of sick fuck would do this?" His finger tips trace around the crude iron devices, wisping against your arms. "I don't have anything to cut these off." He fumbles around in the dim shed, searching under boards and scrap. You catch his eyes make a quick glance up your mostly bare shivering legs. "I have some tools back in the cabin."

His voice.

There's a distant familiarity to it, a ring to it that echoes the same timbre as that of a voice hidden somewhere in my past, that's muffled by years of life, of sighs, of whimpers. Even here in the dark, in this hell, it comforts as well as sends a cool finger of mystery slinking down my spine.

He moves to stand, the coarse fabric of his pants grazing my leg and I want to beg him to stay beside me and never leave. Die here with me now. But I can't.

As he moves about the cabin. I fight to keep my eyes from squeezing shut, as his movements cast shadows against the wall, of disfigured forms trapped within the confines of light and shadow, bursting for freedom.

His turns his back and takes a step forward the shed door.

"W-w-wait. Please. Don't- don't leave me here. Please."

He pauses for a long, dragging moment and turns his head toward you, his hands caressing the dark wooden stock of his hunting rifle, thinking... a rough sigh. “What's your name?”

The deep rasping voice barely shakes its way through the clamor of the shed walls, relentless wind, howling, like tormented spirits, angry, careening around the towering pines.

He slowly lowers himself into the dust beside you, his scent rugged; leather, sawdust, gun oil. His hand lays heavily upon your arm, his knuckles cracked and weathered, almost grotesque next to your smooth delicate flesh. Your skin tingles.

A glimmer in his eye... “Does anybody know you are out here?”
​
​
 
The balancing scales of time and space shatter, clatter to the ground in a chaotic, metallic din that deafens for a moment when he touches me. The creeping, crawling fingertips under my skin scream for me to throw my arm into the air and discard my body of his contact; but the deep gash of fear, the embedded loneliness that has latched itself to me after my time locked away here, whimpers for not only his hand on my arm…but more.

I swallow my turmoil; like a cyclonic breath sucked back down into my lungs to churn and thrash my insides until I am weak with nausea.

I grasp for a foothold, a pillar, a rail, and find it in his unwavering gaze.

A forced strangled breath to calm me, and I count the specks of colour I can barely see in his irises to steel my voice. One…two…three…

“N-n-n…” I stop. And breathe again. “No. Nobody knows I’m here. Only him. And now you.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I clamp my hand over my lips. A movement too little, too late, once again, leaving me at the complete mercy of a stranger.

Once bitten, once shy. I wonder how many times I need to be ravaged to learn.

His fingertips curl and mould around the curve of my arm, an involuntary twitch or response to my reaction, I don’t know. Only that, it scares me and comforts me all at once.

And makes me brave.

“My-my name is Kayla.”

And then not.

“Are-are you going to hurt me?”
 
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“Kayla, okay.” His chest leans into your side as his arm trails along the ground behind you, chains clattering. “Now why would I...” he trails off, reaching for something out of your sight, husky breath on your neck, his brow furled, focused. The shackles tug you back, slightly off balance, exposed, as he jerks and wrenches the steel bolt at the base of the chain.

“Almost...” His teeth clench as her begins to heave the crude rusty ironwork. The chains shudder, grinding your arms back. The sheet metal clamors and howls. Fierce eyes. Nothing.

“Okay. I've almost got it. I'm taking you away to safety okay? Whoever did this...”

His head jerks up to a halt, jaw clamped shut...listening. The small room stifles in heavy dull silence, revealing the gentle creaking of the walls in the wind, needles tumbling and crunching on the forest floor. And something else. An engine; a subdued growl far in the distance. It grows closer with a crude guttural chugging, branches snapping, limbs pinging.
 
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A rumbling that begins somewhere in my psyche shakes and spreads like an earthquake clocking a barely perceptible 2, 3 on the richter scale, through my body to join the shuddering of the earth under my bare legs.

It’s him.

I know it’s him.

I know that sound, I know that rhythm of the engine like a sick but steady heartbeat, turning over and over and then tripping over itself for a desperate gasp of fuel every few seconds.

The blanket of calm that had accompanied the dark shatters in blasts of white and stars and I only know I have to get out of here. Now. Not a minute, not a second from now. Now.

I forget my modesty and fling my arms out wide, hooking them once around the rusty, heavy chain and pull. I kick my legs out and dig my ankles into the ground, bracing against the dirt for traction as I yank against the bolts, my shoulders creaking to hold their ball and socket mechanisms in place. I scream out of both frustration and pain as the jagged cuffs rip permanent wounds into my wrists, and my muscles threaten to tear from their ligaments; like a ragdoll being quartered.

Frantic. Hectic. Chaotic. Anarchic.

No rhyme nor rationale to my thrashings. I’m but a city running on the law of fear.

And the bolts hold as I fall apart.

I crumple back to the ground, hands in bloody ruins by my sides, as restrained as ever, legs covered in dirt embedded scratches, my naked body streaked with angry tears.

I look up at him. My desperation reflected in his own face as he watches me in horrified pity. And I wonder what else there is to lose.

“Please. It’s him. I beg you. Save me”
 
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A burning gash of halogen light floods a small horizontal fissure in the shed wall, sucking your gaze helplessly into the inferno. Slowly your teared, scalded eyes outline the individual headlights. The heavy grill, twisted grotesquely as if bent and crudely hammered back into place over and over again, smiles demonically askew, teeth set on edge, set to devour. Acrid diesel fumes invade you. The constant chugging pops and chokes...and a door shrieks open and grinds to a close.

The dog outside tries to growl but falters, terrified to silence by the looming ominous presence. It melts into a useless whimpering lump. Soft, sullen, down without a fight. But the man by your side reacts with stoic mechanical precision. Not a shadow of horror, not a shade of fear, as he skillfully seats the rifle into his shoulder, hands rock-steady on the walnut stock. His emotionless eyes briefly lock into yours, not to console or confide, but simply confirming. Making a decision.

Outside, a slice of vision from mid-thigh to calf, a spectre of a man, a large satchel in his hand... and he steps closer. One step. Two.

Then the world explodes.
 
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