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Author Topic: 100 Hours  (Read 5989 times)

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Slimebeast

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on: 02:59:16 AM 04/08/13
I'd heard about the hazing that awaited me, but nobody wanted to tell me exactly what to expect.

Not knowing was the worst part. Left to its own devices, my mind conjured the most horrible things. Beatings, cutting, depraved acts inflicted on me just as someone else had done to them.

One guy told me to wear loose underwear, but I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. I did it anyway, just to be sure.

"We're here!" the voice of Jeffrey, the most popular one of the group, signaled it was time to take off my blindfold.

My eyes were perfectly adjusted for the darkness after that long trip. The moon, though it was not full, seemed to illuminate everything perfectly. There was a door on the ground, like a house had formerly stood here and only the metal entrance now remained.

"Come on. Hurry up." a short guy I didn't know took me by the hand and all but dragged me toward the object, his fingernails pressing into my skin with excitement.

"It's a door." I stared down at the rusted thing, befuddled.

"Ha!" the tall, skinny guy laughed right in my face, then turned to the others, "He thinks it's a door! Just lying there... just a door!"

Jeffrey pulled the door open, revealing a dark space below.

It was a disaster shelter.

"Oh, no..." I shook my head and backed away, "You guys, I can't. I'm sorry, I can't go through with this!"

"Too late!" the short guy smirked, "You wanted to be in the group, and this is the way we do it. There's food, water, and even a toilet though it's probably putrid by now."

"I can't..."

Jeffrey walked up to me and put his hands on my shoulders.

"C'mon, guy. It'll be fine, we've all done it. Just 100 hours and you're one of us. Forever. We'll be brothers, and that means you'll get to do whatever you want."

"I don't know..."

"Take him, for example," Jeffrey gestured to the slim one, "He gets into shit ALL THE TIME. Think he's ever had to pay for it? No way. Anyone who could do anything about it is either one of us, or knows we exist. Nobody would touch a hair on his head... if he had any hair."

"Hey!" skinny protested.

I looked down into the shelter. I was more than a little apprehensive about the whole thing. In my mind, I did the quick math and figured out how many days 100 hours would be.

"In you go!" Jeffrey boomed as he shoved me through the door, down the staircase. I struck the rotten stairs hard, splintering the soft wood with my shoulders and head.

Laughter followed, then the metallic slam of the door.

I righted myself quickly and, frantic, I climbed the remaining stairs. I raged at that door... struck it with my fists, tried to pry it open... it wouldn't budge.

"Please!" I screamed, slumping back to the bottom of the staircase, "Let me out! I can't stand small places! I can't stand the dark! Oh God, you have to let me out!"

I screamed until I was hoarse. I laid on the floor and yelled until my insides hurt. There was no reply.

Realizing the dire situation I was now in, I blindly searched the walls. Finding shelves, I discovered cans of food, a can opener, and... most welcomed... a flashlight.

The beam of light cast strange shadows within the cramped shelter. Cobwebs hung from every possible surface. Roaches scattered as I lit them. To one side of the room was a bare cot, and next to that was a toilet. It was just as disgusting as I'd feared.

Over the next several hours, I set about preparing the space for myself. I kept a rough count in my head and marked the wall for every hour, using the edge of the flashlight to scratch the wall's surface.

I slipped into sleep a few times, but I still felt as if I was in danger, and that concern would not let me fully rest. In this insomnia-like state, I thought I could see something in the shadows.

"Hello?" I cast the light beam around the room frantically, trying to catch whatever movement I'd picked up on.

Nothing.

Six hours passed.

Twelve hours.

Twenty four hours.

I'd taken to singing to myself just to break the silence. It was the same line over and over again, something that wouldn't leave my head no matter how much I tried to shake it.

"Well don't go out tonight... or it's bound to take your life..."

Movement again.

"There's a bad moon on the rise..."

This time, I moved the light slowly along the wall. Maybe I'd missed whatever it was the first time. If I was sure to scour every corner, I was sure I'd root out whatever might be down here.

The metal walls displayed a Jackson Pollack spatter of rusty spots and stains left by any number of tenants across a span of decades. It was almost like a sort of camouflage, attempting to disguise the man-made abomination as a natural span of Earth and stone.

The light traced the surface. Rust. Metal. Rust. Stain.

Eye.

The orb closed tight the second my beam caught it, but I'd seen it nonetheless. The shock of seeing that eyeball... that human, staring eye... caused me to jerk the light away and click it off quickly. I let out a cry of horror, almost unaware of why I'd been bathed in sudden darkness.

With my hand trembling, I once again aimed the light at the eye. Once again, as the beam met it, the horrible, glassy thing closed tightly as if doing so meant I could no longer detect its presence!

I sat like this for as long as I could, drawing myself up into a ball on the cot. The eye remained shut for as long as I could see it, and that seemed to be the only bit of comfort I was going to get.

32 hours.

42 hours.

The only time I lost sight of the eye... the only time it caught sight of ME... was when I'd change batteries. My trips to the toilet were as brief as I could manage, and I brought every can of food to the cot with me. Opening them up was difficult, until I finally gave in and held the dingy, greasy flashlight between my teeth.

I could not let the eye open.

Just 100 hours. 100 hours.

All I needed to was keep it lit for 100 hours.

I was almost halfway through.

70 hours in, I'd had enough. At least it was as close to that number as I could figure... the lack of sleep, combined with the inevitable times slumber would briefly seize me, made it very difficult to keep track.

I got up from the cot and began to search the room, keeping MY eye on THE eye as I did so. I felt the floors with my shoes, then my hands, since I only had one light and it was already doing important work.

I found a screw beneath the food shelves. It must've come loose from that piece of furniture at some point.

Steeling myself, I clutched the screw between my middle two fingers, point outward. All at once, I found a rage within me. I let out a primal howl and rushed the eye in the wall. It suddenly opened as I approached, as if in shock, and that was all well and good for me since the screw thusly met its target with the utmost success.

There was no scream. No violent shaking of the room. Nothing I had feared came to be, and instead the eyeball simply rotated as best it could with the metal implement jutting from its pupil. It bled, but based on what my imagination had cooked up, that was almost comforting.

75 hours.

85 hours.

90 hours.

I checked the eye every so often, but as my light met it, I was relieved each time to find it motionless, screw down-turned. Having no sink to speak of, all I could do to wash the blood off my hands was to dunk them into the toilet.

That would do nothing, however, for the ample crimson spray marring my sweaty, stinking clothes.

As I lay on that cot, waiting out the final ten hours... or thereabouts... I smiled and began singing to myself again. I knew I would make it, now. I'd be out of here soon and I'd have that all-important standing in the group.

I cast the flash light to the ceiling as I lie flat.

An eye upon the ceiling closed tight as my beam caught it. Disbelieving, I moved the light away, then back to the object. Again, I caught the eyeball and it shut immediately.

I moved the light away again, thinking I must surely be seeing things now, but as the beam moved, it caught yet another eye which reacted in an identical manner.

"Idiot!", I chastised myself, "You never checked the ceiling!"

I climbed under the cot and shuddered.

92 hours.

95 hours.

100 hours.

My count was off by a bit, but it wasn't that long until I heard the metal doors swing open. Rushing from the cot, kicking over innumerable empty tin cans, I climbed the stairs like a shot and flew out into the open night.

"Whoa!" Jeffrey was there. Alone. He seem surprised to see me.

"What, did you think I'd be dead?" I demanded, "Did you think it would kill me? You knew! You knew all about that thing, and you sent me down there to die!"

I lunged at him.

"Bastard! Bastard!"

Jeffrey threw me off easily. I was too weak from the confined space, the bad food, and the lack of rest. I posed as much threat as a sick toddler at this point.

"What're you talking about?" Jeffrey sneered at me.

"Well," I laughed, maniacally, drooling into the dirt, "At least I'm in the club!"

Jeffrey seemed unnerved by my behavior... or maybe it was the hyena laugh... he backed away and shook his head.

"No, you're not. You failed the test, man. I'm - I'm sorry if you went a little nuts, but you didn't figure it out."

I was quiet for a moment. Rage was building in my stomach, and all I could think about was Jeffrey and a handful of steel screws in his eye sockets.

"What?" I demanded in a sharp tone, "WHAT?"

"Yeah... we do it to everybody, to see if you get it. After we tossed you down there, we all stood on the door for a few minutes..."

I swallowed hard and pulled my shirt out in front of me, studying it. I couldn’t find the blood.

“I’m sorry, bro…” Jeffrey backed toward his truck, "It doesn't even lock..."
If I should live until I wake, I pray the web my death to fake.



Thenarius

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on: 01:54:06 PM 09/14/15
Let me guess...

Does he stayed in the shelter for a couple minutes and everything that happened was his immagination?



Meaty Okra Tea

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on: 10:59:11 PM 09/14/15
Let me guess...

Does he stayed in the shelter for a couple minutes and everything that happened was his immagination?

No, I'm pretty sure he stayed there for the entire 100 hours, going insane and never realizing that he could have left at any time if he would just try the door again.



Leila

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on: 04:50:49 PM 10/12/15
I'm going through all your creepypastas, and this one is my favorite so far. Why? The protagonist goes insane and becomes a serial killer who killed by stabbing the eyes all the way to the brain!  :bleed: The afterstory must be awesome, if someone writes it! Actually, maybe I should? A fan story! Please reply if yes. If no, well, that's for you to decide. If there's no reply, I won't.  :)



Slimebeast

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on: 10:05:58 PM 10/12/15
Go for it if you like. XD Anyone can use my work however they want as long as it's free for people to enjoy. :)
If I should live until I wake, I pray the web my death to fake.