Your Oratory

Thick black oil dripped steadily onto the glass dining table

photo credit: Hello, I am Bruce

.  What was this gross stuff and where was it coming from?  I looked up to the ceiling and I saw a small hole and a wet stain around it.  I didn’t know who lived over my apartment, but I figured that I was going to have to go up there and find out.

I took the stairs two at a time and I banged at the place over mine.  I banged again and then I yelled “Hey is there anybody in there?  It’s urgent. There’s stuff dripping from your place through my ceiling and it’s making a huge mess.”  I kept banging and yelling.

I looked down and I could see oil coming under the door.

A man came out of the next door apartment.  “That guy’s never home.  He’s a long distance trucker, and he’s weird.  I think he’s been gone for about a week.”

She woke up under a glass top dining table

photo credit: GordonMcDowell

. How long had she been in this strange position? She had been unconscious for hours and she was completely disoriented and groggy. She turned her head to the wall and the pain was excruciating. Memories began to come back. They were very frightening. Someone had hit her and he had dragged her to this place where she was becoming conscious. She was walking along a tree-lined street near her house when a man approached her and spoke as though he knew her. After he passed her she received the heavy blow from behind.  Now she was in this gray place tied to a table. She became aware of footsteps nearby and a soft feminine voice asked her “are you happy?” She tried to see this person but couldn’t turn her head. She didn’t answer. The question frightened her more. Other memories began to creep into her consciousness.

She was lying on a glass dining table

photo credit: santian

and gradually regaining consciousness. A voice came close. “I know you. I’ve been watching you for a long time.”

“Who are you?”

The woman approached close to her head and said, “This is where I do my dissections.” She screamed when the woman moved alongside her. It wasn’t a woman. It was the man who had spoken to her on the street. He had a weird, soft creepy voice.

“Can you untie me?”

“I don’t want you to be comfortable,” he whispered. “I will begin my experiments soon and I need to have your body in a state of extreme tension. I have watched you for so long and now I have you here with me. I am very happy.”

“Please let me go and I can pay you a lot of money.”

“Money means nothing to me. It is my scientific work that is everything.  Sorry, dear.”