Prologue Coughing. Blood dripping onto concrete. Chains being dragged behind someone. Heavy footsteps. All these sounds, but no sight. The man is chained to the wall against his will, a blood soaked bag that was once used for carrying potatoes in now over his head, tied in place with a rope tightly around his throat. As he slumps forward trying to gasp for air in between blood-filled coughs, the footsteps and the chains get closer with every drop of blood lost. “Tick, tock, on the chopping block. Looks like someone’s caught in the aftershock. Tick, tick, laughingstock. How can you get out of your pad lock?” After saying this in a sing-song manner, the man’s capturer abruptly grabs him by the bagged head and slams it against the wall, leaving a loud, echoing crack as the skull breaks open. The capturer gives a low, throaty laugh as he pulls the man’s head away from the wall and begins to untie the rope that is keeping the bag on. “Breaking this easily after all the prep work I had to do for you? Do you not feel any gratitude for me being such a lovely host?” As the bag gets removed from his head, the man gives a nervous laugh before looking up at the other man. “I’m not dead yet, am I?” Directly after saying this, he gets grabbed by the hair and yanked down towards the ground, causing him to wince from the shot of pain in the back of his head. “Looks treatable. Good. Means I can rough you up a bit more after you’re all patched up.” Letting go of his prisoner’s hair, the man with the chains turns around to leave for medical supplies. Before he gets out the door, the other man stops him. “Hey. You’re the hanged man, aren’t you?” Turning around with a face like thunder, the hanged man replies. “What makes you say that?” “Your face. Your lips are blue. Your eyes are unnaturally bugged out. You have the characteristics of a corpse whose death took place at the gallows.” “And so what if I am? It makes no difference to you, does it?” As he goes to leave, the other man calls out to him one more time: “Why did he come after you? What happened? How did you come back?” Looking over his shoulder, the hanged man gives his answer: “You ask too many questions to which I have no obligation to respond.” The hanged man exits the room as his captive becomes overwhelmed with exhaustion, falling asleep.
Starting this story over one last time, just because I think I finally found the way I want to do it. Was going to have each character have their own story first, but I no longer want that. I will have the final version of the story posted sometime soon.