Gottlose Geist - Pflanz Verderbtheit

"Ich sehe nicht, warum der Mensch nicht nur als grausam wie Natur sein."

---

Lay a man down against leverage,
and his body
will
B R E A K .

So goes these sounds, these voices, that has tormented you for ages. Weeks perhaps, more logically, but it has felt like years. While you do not possess any recollection of where you are, how long you've been here, what time it is, or even your own name - all else feels in tact.

Indeed, you were in fact born in Munich, Germany, and you did in fact have a sister six years younger than thee - you remember all but your own individual identity, it would seem. Similarly, your location is also a mystery. Recent memory falls dim, and it felt as though you have spent five hundred dreamless nights in sickness. Your body, weak. Your stomach, ill. Your orientation, shaky.

You've not even the strength to open your eyes, it feels as if.

The room you are in is pitch black save for the dingy old, flickering lamp hovering above your head. You only know - a generous term to use, as it is less more than a clue - that you sit in a box. A box, surely, that is a sectioned off portion of hell, judging from all the agony you are in. But as for why? Well... that's the question of the day.

What is your course of action?

Panic. Wait - that's what they'd WANT you to do. And who are they, anyway? Think back about anyone who might have a reason to put me in this box...

And while I'm at it, I better take stock of my physical state. Am I hungry? Thirsty? That might help me figure out how long I've been in here.

Oh. We've recovered the will to move. Celebrate by wiggling our fingers. Our bonds are made of cloth, I suppose? Plastic? Hopefully not something that chafes.

Indeed - why is it that we haven't died of thirst yet, anyways? And, I suppose we should at some point open our eyes. Make sure we still can.

Szemetlada wrote:

Panic. Wait - that's what they'd WANT you to do. And who are they, anyway? Think back about anyone who might have a reason to put me in this box...

And while I'm at it, I better take stock of my physical state. Am I hungry? Thirsty? That might help me figure out how long I've been in here.

JazzTap wrote:

Oh. We've recovered the will to move. Celebrate by wiggling our fingers. Our bonds are made of cloth, I suppose? Plastic? Hopefully not something that chafes.

Indeed - why is it that we haven't died of thirst yet, anyways? And, I suppose we should at some point open our eyes. Make sure we still can.

---

As you struggle to open your eyes, bright light assaults your eyes, making them water. You look around yourself, observing the blurry environment. It's dark. You can't see a thing, save for whatever is in this circle of light around you. A floor and a chair. The latter, which, you are sitting in.

Your mind races, and your environment blurs around you. As your breathing and heart rate picks up, you notice your mouth heating up, and any sounds you make are muffled. Suddenly, you feel yourself gag. Regaining control of yourself, and taking a much closer look at your current condition, it dawns on you: you are bound and gagged. A linen cloth is wrapped around your head and mouth, and several layers of what seems to be... rope.

Trying to wiggle your fingers, you notice another thing: they're moving, but you can barely feel them. Your hands are buzzing asleep and swollen. Your arms, rubbed raw. Whoever tied you up certainly didn't care if they tied the rope too tight or not. At least your legs are free, albeit sore and exhausted.

You feel nauseous - unhealthy. Certainly, your stomach feels empty and your mouth is as dry as sand, but the thought of food only makes you feel worse.

There are the faint sound of footsteps, but you can't see anything that'd indicate where they be. They sound muffled. Probably in another room?

What is your next course of action?

Fight the system, bounce the chair out of the light circle. Like I'm going to make it so easy for, whatever "it" turns out to be! I don't even know who they are and I hate them already.

Szemetlada wrote:

Fight the system, bounce the chair out of the light circle. Like I'm going to make it so easy for, whatever "it" turns out to be! I don't even know who they are and I hate them already.

---

You hear voices tormenting you, telling you to run. While alarming, yield some form of familiarity. They put you on edge. While you are not necessarily inclined to listen to your hallucinations, a wave of dread washed over you, and you feel the need to escape from view.

Bracing your own legs against the legs of the chair and struggle to move yourself and your bindings. You find difficulty in being able to do so, an oddity in itself. The chair you're in is small and uncomfortable to sit in, yet you are still unable to move in it. Is it bolted to the floor? No, no, that's not it. The chair wobbled, albeit slightly so. A metal core or dense material? Likely, perhaps. Maybe in conjunction with the fact your legs feel weak, and the pressure you used to press your legs against the chair, alone, was enough to feel weary.

You hear a couple of clicks from across the room, stealing your attention. The door slowly swings open, letting a cascade of light to flood the room in line with your position to it. A silhouette stands in the doorway, and you hear soft and gentle footsteps coming your way.

What is your next course of action?

"Who's there?" I shout, straining my raspy vocal chords. "What do you want with me?"