Subject 12 of Group 4107AG

  Screams of agony. Steel walls ten inches thick in every room. A burning sensation on your skin as if it will melt off the meat that covers your bones. Muscles aching until you can't bear to do any more than lie there and take your torture like a starving dog. This is what we have come to. This is our fate. Treated like animals for a science experiment. No one to miss us. No one to come looking. Nothing to go back to even if by some miracle we did manage to escape.
  We are only known as subject group 4107AG. We were raised in a lab. Not here though. We were raised by a scientist looking to create a new race of human and become famous for his accomplishment where everyone would be so excited they would ignore the horrifying things he'd done in the name of science and of progress. I never knew we were any different from anyone else my entire life. We all look relatively alike. Hair, nose, eyes, ears, chin and mouth. We don't look like monsters. Our creator said it was something in our DNA. Whatever that means.
  No one knows his name, or who he is for that matter. If I could just remember his name... It's on the tip of my tongue like an annoying song lyric that hides in the back of your mind behind stacks of file cabinets. Maybe if I could tell them his name, the torture would stop. Maybe they would give us a humane death. Something with dignity. Maybe if they had souls they would. I believe they surgically removed those with the same surgical steel tools they us on us every day, it must have been a necessity when coming into this line of work.
  We are being held by a secret government organization. After we were captured from the fugitive scientist just days ago, days that feel like years in this all too clean cell. Like a house with children that is spotless without a single toy on the floor, meant to be welcoming while just slightly eerie. They came in like a flash, with guns being waved around like a dancer's scarf. They gathered us up as if we were cattle, killing several of my inmates without so much as a twitch. Then they brought us to this god forsaken place. Not even the devil would be caught dead here. Every day they ask us for the name of the scientist that created us. None of us can answer because he wiped our memory of him before he left. He knew they were coming and he left us clinging to each other like scared rats. They have tried every method I didn't even know could possibly resurface your memory... Electric chairs, the feeling of drowning, cutting our skin down to the bone, injections of blue liquid, it's all become one molded nightmare that we cannot differentiate. Many of us have gone into shock, refusing to speak, except for the screams at night that keep the rest of us awake
  Morning however, brought a new aspect to the table.

  Instead of the normal torture chamber they usually take you to, instead you are sent outside, where no one has seen since you were brought here. Something about being closer than the others to remembering. You are taken outside where you meet your handler. A tall dark haired broad shouldered man with thick facial hair and soft eyes contrasting with the black clothing he wears. 

You look him up and down sizing this new threat deciding if you can out run him. He simply looks down at you without showing a trace of emotion in his steel green eyes.
  The guards leave you with this 'handler', walking back inside the cold cement building. You take a look around at this outside world. So new, and unfamiliar. So free compared to the lab walls you knew before this torture. The wind blows past your neck and you flinch from the unexpected experience, surprised that it does not hurt. The ground is not hard and cold, it is soft, and green. There are no walls, only a long unending fence. Past it you can see nothingness. Open dry land. It looks so welcoming, if you could only reach it. You could run for miles and not find another wall that could confine you any longer.
  The handler crosses his arms still staring down at you, this gives you the opportunity to take note of his heavy biceps. Do not let him get a hold of you. Keep at least an arm's length apart. You slowly take a step back. The handler breaks his closed off stance to jump into an prepared fighting motion, letting his arms fall to his side, bringing his dominant right foot one step in your direction and his eyes watching your every movement waiting for a cue to take you down to the ground. His muscles twitching from tension.
  You simply grin at him. "Relax." You say as you take another step, turning away from him. How close can you get to the fence before he drags you back? With each new guard, there are new boundaries. Those boundaries need to be found, poked, tested, so that you can find a better understanding of how each individual will react. Some guards will pounce on you for looking  at them directly. Others will turn a blind eye if you steal an apple from one of the other guards that they don't like. This process of finding boundaries is crucial in being held captive. Without this understanding, you will either find yourself constantly jumping at your own shadow, or if you are the rebellious type, in solitary confinement your entire captivity. Their mistake was only assigning one man to hold you. One human being has weaknesses, and without another person to balance out those weaknesses, it just may be your escape. Your creator may have subjected you to this fate, but he gave you a gift that could get you out. Maybe that was his plan all along...
  Skipping ahead six months, you've now learned a lot of boundaries. You know exactly what blat of grass is too far, and your handler knows you won't step over it. You pretend to be content with your fate. Whether that act is for your captives or yourself, you cannot tell.
  "The days are getting shorter" Your handler half mumbles.
  You look up at the sun getting closer to the horizon, like a child's eyes slowly fading as they fall into a deep sleep. You know also that your days are being cut short. You find yourself losing time, waking up with scars that you don't remember. Your head always pounds and aches. It won't be much longer now. Everything will go dark. The whispers in your head say it starts out as a sweet smell, lilac scent even, right before you fall asleep. And all the pain goes away, the scars and tortured memories fade all at once. You feel ready to rest, to rest for a very long time. Unaware of the troubles this world has brought-
  You are suddenly awakened into reality, your eyes clear instantly. What was that sound? It is unfamiliar. A closing door? You hear a voice, a sweet, young voice that speaks with a cheerful bounce with every word. It is the most beautiful music you have ever heard. For once a voice that is not cold and maniacal.
  Your handler gets suspicious, and tells you to wait here. But as he fades out of sight you can't help but want to follow the voice. Blindly you stumble across the grass towards the sound. You can almost hear the words but you can't quite make them out, you get closer until they become clearer. "-porting on your facility, they say it's quite an operation and the people would like to see what it is you are working on."
  "We're not open for tours." The cold voice of one of the scientists say harshly.
  "Well can you at least tell me about your work here?" She pleaded innocently tilting her head with a smile.
  "No. Go home, we're not a science museum." He said as a final warning. He turned his head to your handler, "Please escort this young lady back to her vehicle." He said waving his hand.
  "I will be perfectly fine on my own, thank you sirs." She broke in, her smile turning more sarcastic now, before she turned on her heel and strode away with her skirt flowing in the chill breeze.
  The two men suspiciously watch her for a moment before walking back in, mumbling to each other about what to do to avoid further incident. In the same moment that the door closes behind them, the woman looks over her shoulder at you through the fence. Her eyes widen and you stare confused as your eyes squint and you shift from one side to the other trying to understand this interaction.
  Her pace quickens slightly and you feel she must be so horrified by your appearance that she cannot stand to look at you more than a few seconds. Then your curiosity spikes as you watch her open the trunk of her tan car fumbling through cases looking for something fifteen yards away. She eventually pulls out a long handled tool with sharp edges that seem to be for cutting stout things, branches maybe. She then comes hastily towards you, and you begin to understand what she is trying to do, except this will do no more than end your lives even sooner than fate had planned. She comes up to the fence, looking over her shoulder, before she uses her long handled tool to cut through the fence. You begin to panic, you are ready to die but she doesn't have to, if she did not follow through with this decision.
  It all happens so fast you can barely blink, you are pushed into the trunk of the car before it is shut closed and you are again in darkness. Only hearing the sound of sirens as the engine starts and your body jumps from the sudden motion of the vehicle.
  You are out of the cell, but this is only the beginning of your escape.

The Siren

You are aboard a small boat on the calm blue lake after a long week of working, with the afternoon sun shining among white clouds. Your free living, risk taker best friend guides the wheel with a wide grin as the wind blows through their hair.
The boat comes to a steady stop. "What did I tell you?" They ask stepping to the edge of the boat arms outstretched, gesturing to the lake and the partly shaded sun high in the sky. "Beautiful as the Bahamas! Miles from traffic and busy people running around like chickens with their heads cut off."
You simply smile and nod in agreement.
Your partner gives you a sideways glance. "You've gotta get your mind off the week... water looks perfect, doesn't it?"
"Yeah... I guess." You reply looking into the water, noting the seaweed flowing in the subtle waves. "I thought we were going to fish?"
Your partner takes a step towards you, "Yeah, but we don't need the poles."
Before you can reply you feel their shoulder slam into you, losing your balance you flip over the edge of the boat, your partner letting out a subtle laugh. Knowing you're about to hit the water, you take a breath, before the cold embrace of the lake hits your chest. You sink a few feet below the water. All goes quiet, the water is the perfect temperature. You feel the seaweed against your feet. It's quite peaceful for a moment. You turn your head however, and you are confronted by the pale face of a girl in the water, seemingly lifeless with a blank stare, floating amidst the water around you. Long strands of hair waving among the seaweed.
After the initial shock, and realizing she must have drowned herself as a way of suicide. You look closer for a moment, knowing you'll need to go up for air very soon. The eyes black as onyx, seem to come back to life. Must be your eyes playing tricks on you… you could swear you saw one of her fingertips twitch… is it possible she's still alive? But as you panic, horror strikes you, as her lips curl into a terrifying smile, revealing two rows of sharp teeth each filed to a point… this thing is not human.
You push through the water as swiftly as possible, feeling the weight of every gallon of water sitting above you, and the weeds below your feet claw at your ankles as you struggle to get to the surface of the lake. Just when you feel you can't go without a breath any longer, your head pierces through the surface of the water and you throw your head back to take a breath. Your partner is still on the boat laughing. You scramble to the boat, pulling your body over the side and flopping down in the boat, still gasping for air.
“Oh come on, it couldn't have been that bad!” they say preparing to jump into the water.
“Don't!” You yell as firmly as possible with a slight quiver in your voice. “There's a shark in the water!”
They stop, and look at you quizzically. “There are no sharks in the lake. You probably saw a trout.” they reply continuing to prepare to jump in the lake.
You pull yourself up on weak muscles, still dripping wet, to grab their shoulder to keep them from going in the water. “I'm not kidding! There's something in there! And it's big. We need to go back!”
Your partner, is now growing tired of the game. “There's nothing in the lake except fish and a couple beer bottles.”
Just as the words leave his mouth, the boat is hit in the side by a heavy force, enough to rock the boat and make both of you stumble trying to keep your balance. Your partner is now beginning to worry, and perhaps believe your story. “What was that?”
The boat rocks again and this time you catch a glimpse of the horrifying grin of the girl with shark like teeth, before she dives back in the water.
Your partner becomes more urgent. “What was that?!”
Without answering you run to the head of the boat, but you are thrown to the flooring from another hit taken by the monster trying to take down your boat. You get back up and grab the wheel, start the motor and hit full speed straight ahead, no sense of direction except away from the creature. You look back to make sure your partner is still in the boat, who is still looking back, then to you in terror. Then you notice the water behind you beginning to part, and not from the boat. The creature is chasing you, and not far behind.
You make sure the boat is going as fast as possible, then turn to your partner. “Grab the flare gun and shoot it!”
They break from the trance and grab the flare gun from a box in storage on the boat. You look ahead to continue steering. You hear the sound of the flare gun fire, and turn to see it hit the girl in the head as she came up to dive back down. There's a slight yelp, before she dives down below the surface and the water becomes still except for the current behind the boat.
You and your partner exchange glances before looking ahead again. Neither of you say a word for the rest of the journey home. You make it back to the docks without further mishap. When they ask why you were back so early, you simply say that you forgot your phone, as you pat your pocket feeling the indentation of your phone safely tucked away.
And not another word was said of the shark like creature in the lake. No one would believe you anyway. Nevertheless, you nor your partner will ever look at a body of water the same.

The Blind Execution

Our story begins with a sly fox, who has finally meet his match. Death has finally caught up with him.
He awaits his own execution within the dark underground enclosure, unknown to anyone besides a handful of people believing they have better judgement on proper punishment than the law itself. They have taken punishment into their own hands, while harshly judging those who have stolen a piece of bread. The guilty receive no trial, no opportunity to defend themselves, only a sentence ruled by this group of people who decide who receives punishment. And they were not past sacrificing the innocent in the case of a minor misjudgment.
Before he is taken to the final cell, a group of vigilantes attempt to fake his death, saving him from this cruel fate. They explain to him how they have rigged the noose, so that it will not drop, as they slip lubricant in his pocket for when he is put in the straight jacket. They believe he has been unfairly judged, and that he deserves to have a real trial, above ground.
But as the Sly Fox waits with the executioner, death becomes a welcoming end. The executioner, with his cold dark mask, hiding his emotions. His voice giving off a slight sound of remorse, for what he is about to do the young man, with so much life ahead. He realizes that it is indeed wrong, but he was given a job and he will surely not lose sleep over it. He is simply another criminal that should be dealt with, as countless others have been over the past two years. This executioner had an air of demonic personality about him, as if he did not possess human emotions. Only the reactions. Someone who kills common thieves and prostitutes with rapists and the like every day for two years, has a tendency to lose their humanity over time, until it simply becomes an act. Those waiting to be executed could not even find words for the horror of waiting in the cold cell, watching the executioner stand and wait for what felt like hours pass within the time span of only a meager few minutes. He would sometimes speak through the mask, with a deep voice that should have been calming and relaxing, but instead only sent a chill down your spine, wondering if you would see him reveal his face from behind the mask, once you entered the gates of hell.
The Sly Fox waits in agony, knowing that the noose will fail, but he will never find his way out through this rat maze of ramps and bridges that go nowhere in the underground dungeon. They will soon catch him, and kill him despite his efforts to escape. He realizes that it would be a better death done by his own hand. As the executioner looks the other way for a split second, the Sly Fox takes a thin knife in his hand, and slits his own throat. Falling into a limp mass of body while being drained of blood through the cut in his neck. Only the executioner, and the granite stone within the earth around them there in the cell to witness the unfair demise, of a common thief.

Now we come to modern times, five hundred years later.
A blind man is brought to a hospital for a what is to be believed as a mental illness. He wholeheartedly believes himself to be a descendant of an unheard of, never recorded man that had fallen victim to being wrongly executed in a secret underground prison. This was absurd, to the doctors. He most surely has lost his mind. There was no 'Sly Fox' in any history known to them. A simple search proved that. But the blind man was sure. He did not know until this time, when he relieved a stone of granite from the mountains of Washington. He said he saw his ancestor's own execution, which of course must be impossible. He believed that the stone showed him the echo of the memory, long since recorded within the stone and kept safe until being washed up from the deep grounds, picked up on a hike, and given to the blind man as a momento from the trip taken by his cousin.

The blind man found himself being woken by the heavy vibrations the stone gave off one late night, the stone seemed to be calling him. He could feel it in his hands in his dreams. The coarse texture indenting the palm of his hand. He was awoken, and guided to the stone sitting on the shelf in his living room. The vibrations became stronger as he grew closer. Reaching out his hand felt like a moment that would never end. Taking the stone in his hand, he holds it for a moment as the vibration drumming in his head faded. It was soon replaced by holographic images within his consciousness. He could see a man, of small build with a cunning smile as he walked down the street. The smile soon disappears under a black bag as he is forcefully drug into an ally by three men dressed in black robes. He is taken to the forest, and lowered by a rope through a trap door leading deep into a dark pit within the ground, where the walls are made of solid earth and granite stone. Others are there within the underground prison, screaming for mercy. Those who say they did nothing wrong. The man is allowed to see again, where he has been brought to. Horror strikes his face, this is his end. There is no way he can talk his way out of this now. He is brought to the execution room. The executioner stands there, wearing a black mask with the eyes scratched out with white paint. Still unable to hide the sense of his cold expressionless face. While his gruff dirt and blood stained hand holds an axe that hangs to his side, dripping with the blood of his last victim. And that is where the vision ends. The blind man drops the stone as he falls to the floor and pushes himself away until he feels his back against the wall. His breaths are heavy and quick, and they soon turn to sobbing. When he attempts to tell others of what he saw in his vision, he was taken to this hospital for help. However nothing could help him to understand this paranormal instance that he had experienced. He was unable to see for twenty years and here he is given sight by a stone, of the most horrible circumstance he could imagine.
In the present time, the blind man finds a way to escape the hospital, during a crisis as another patient is suffering from a seizure. The blind man hears the commotion and footsteps running past his room. Realizing that this may be his only chance to escape the hospital and find answers to his strange mental visions, he walks out of the room, turns away from the commotion and follows the sounds that he had heard coming in, in reverse, bringing him back to the front door of the hospital. Upon feeling the summer air catch his cheek, the man turns away from the busy sounds of the city, to the serene sounds of the forest and smells of the pine trees.

Five of the doctors run after him. The main doctor in charge pulls out a pistol and points it at the blind man entering the forest.

“You're not going to shoot the very patient you're trying to save are you?” One of the other doctors asks. The doctor holding the pistol lowers it back to his side, letting the barrel point to the ground.
A few minutes into the prickly pine tree forest, filled with the smell reminiscent of Christmas, along with the sounds of crunching as he walks through the forest cautiously, while becoming more urgent as he can feel himself growing closer to whatever it is he hopes to find, the blind man did indeed find this secret dungeon filled with death. He becomes too distracted with his adrenaline pumping as the vibrations that he felt with the granite grew stronger once again, and does not realize he has stepped off the trail, and unto a hidden trap door. The five hundred year old wooden door within the earth covered by leaves and pine needles gives way under his feet. He can only feel the solid ground give way, and reaches out for anything to grasp, feeling that this most surely is the end. By some stroke of luck, or so he believes it to be at this moment, he feels a root, coated in dry earth, as he grasps it tight and his body swings against the entrance of the deep pit. He listens for the trap door to hit the ground, one.. two.. The boards crack as they make contact with the ground below, as he hangs from the root of a tree protruding from the rim of where the door once hid the pit.The doctors are unable to hear his cry for help through the muffling of the trees.

His grip begins to fail, as his hands become damp with sweat, moistening the dirt on the root. His hands slip, as he once again feels his body within the air, until his back hits a hard wooden surface, he slips off, and hits another, unable to grip anything before it gives way and he falls to another hard surface, the fourth time, he hits ground. Cold, earthy ground. Bruised from every inch of his body, but alive. And here our story comes back to where we first began.

Here he has come to the dungeon where so many were slaughtered without trial, without any way of escape within the rat maze of ramps, stair cases, and hallways that lead into other rooms with no exit, other hallways that go nowhere, sometimes even leading straight into a wall. It was built with the intention of driving those who tried to escape insane, making them feel trapped and helpless to find a way out, no matter how many combinations of routes they attempted to take to return to the upper world. The blind man cannot see this rat maze, even if he could physically see, the dungeon was dark as a clouded night. However he could hear the faint cries of pain. They were faint, but distinct none the less. He called out to them, with no answer. Only the continuation of the echoing cries bouncing off the walls. He stumbled through the cave like prison, following the sounds of the cries. He realized it seemed to belong to more than one person. As he walked towards the sound became louder, and louder, as more voices joined the screaming. It became more urgent. Sometimes... He could hear the sound of an axe hitting a chopping block, and one of the shrill screams would stop. After a moment it would be filled with another. The screams grew in volume and numbers as he continued to walk. He called out again and again but none of the voices responded. It seemed they were on a constant loop. It was like a nightmare becoming more vivid as he stepped further into the dream. It bore into his head until it began to ache and he too began to scream in agony, among the other voices. It wouldn't stop, there was so much pain and suffering within the screams of fifty, maybe a hundred people, all in one unison, begging for death. The blind man also began to seek death, for it was a better fate than hearing all this horror, that these people were enduring. These people that he did not know existed, or if they were a figment of his own insanity. The pain in his head grew stronger, every sound grew louder, he could hear the sound of a thick substance dripping to the ground. He covered his ears but it only slightly muffled the sounds. He screamed louder to stop this torture! But it only grew. The emotion in the room flooded his senses. He stumbled into a small room, the screaming louder still. He fell to his knees, and his hand landed on a wooden handle.. He felt the handle and followed it to the end, realizing it was an axe. The blade had grown dull and rusted over time. But it was clear this was the weapon used to kill those people that suffered here. Where the memories of their deaths were recorded within the walls of this room, within the granite stone placed all around. The pain grew too heavy to bear, the blind man could find only one way of escape from this nightmare. He took the axe in his hand, brought it to his neck, and slit his own throat. After a few seconds of gasping for air, his body goes limp. And the screaming stops.

You see, only those who have a bloodline connection to one of those who took part in this underground slaughter can hear the screaming when inside the cave. Those with sight could also see the fragments of memories, projected by the granite that holds memories of the extreme emotional distress that the victims endured before their death. These were not ghosts, or souls of humans, but memories of the stones.

The doctors eventually found the now opened entrance to the dungeon. One of them stayed behind, while the others hurried back to get help. They returned with rope, and made the decision to go down into the pit before help came, knowing that the blind man was most likely down there, and if alive at all, in need of medical attention. Three of the doctors shimmied down the rope, and turned on the flash lights they had brought down with them. They could see the rat maze of ramps and stair cases and hallways that lead nowhere. They did not hear the screams, nor see the memories of those who had died here. They dare not go further into the maze to look for the man for fear of never finding their way back.

The doctor who had pulled his gun out before, however, did have a bloodline connection to the memories of this place. He hears a dripping sound behind him. He turns around to see the tall broad figure of a man with a dark mask with eyes scratched out in white paint, holding an axe covered in blood, much like the blood stains on his clothing, and hands, splatters across his chest, his knees covered in red blotches from kneeling in blood. The doctor and the executioner make eye contact through the slits in his mask. Cold dead eyes, matching that of the doctor's. They stand in awe for a moment, seeing a familiar soul within each other. The doctor barely smiles. He understood the duty of the executioner. For he also had blood on his hands, that no one else knew of. Innocent lives that had been unfortunately overdosed and died within his care. Of course it could not be helped, there was nothing he could do... at least, that's was his story.

And here our story ends. Right where it first began. Revealing that every generation has evil that feels they deserve to play God in our universe. That they indeed possess better judgement of the proper fate of the human race. All we can hope for is that we spot it in those around us before it is too late, and that they, are not us.