Warning, this is slightly (extremely) disturbing. I worked on it for an half-hour or so, not great, but I thought it'd be alright.
Enjoy ?your nightmares. :P
The streets of Los Angeles were stained with blood.
The blood of many; however, there was also fresh blood. Fresh, and in large quantity. It left a trail in splotches, as if a specific movement triggered it to spurt out temporarily; a wound like a jagged laceration, or perhaps a bite. Bloody footprints, those of a child, also went up the street of the abandoned city. Alas, it was a child causing the blood.
His hair was matted with blood; his torn, scrappy jeans were soggy from the amount of blood flowing from the right thigh of the child. He did not cry; he did not scream. He simply hobbled. Things like crying were broken from him from an even younger age; they were seen as weaknesses, and in this world, weaknesses caused death. The child, though it did not show, had a fear that he was going to die, now or very soon. The small, threadbare jacket thrown over his shoulders depicted R.A.P, a popular clothing outlet from before what was commonly known as the Flash. He had worn the jacket since he was small, very small; though the heat bore down on him, causing him to both sweat and bleed, he refused to shed it from his slim shoulders.
There was a story behind that jacket.
A growl emanated from an alley, the boy's face showed a moment of worry, before he once again made it a mask for the invisible audience, hobbling as fast as he could now. The source of the growl was revealed as a lone, rabid-looking dog stepped from the darkness, followed by two others. This cemented fear on the child's face; he tried to go faster, but alas, his leg would not allow it.
The dogs walked slowly toward him, cruelly, tormenting him.
Now a tear slid down his soft, young face. He was whimpering, praying to a God long ago abandoned by most; for what god would allow this to happen? What god would welcome it, let it ruin his world? None that most would care for.
But the boy's faith held fast, even in this certain death.
The lead dog sprinted at the boy. A wail erupted before it took him down, tearing viciously at his leg; the same one with the prior bite. the other two followed, one feasting on an arm, the other on his opposite leg. A cry of relief came next when a shot sounded, and one of the dogs fell, dead. The other two were killed as well. The boy smiled at his would-be saviors; there were four. They all wore leather jackets, with varying degrees of dried blood crusted on their faces. They began walking to the boy, who was jubilant in his relief; he smiled, and began to stutter a thank you. Then they picked him up, hit him in the head with a bat, and threw him back down, unconscious. A small chatter went on for a second, before he was slung over the biggest one's shoulders; they walked far.
It was night by the time the party arrived at the City Hall, cheering and whistling. A fire burned in the middle of the partially decomposed building; it glinted with malevolence. The boy roused, a rag over his mouth. "Fresh meat!" cried one of the men, many of his teeth missing or black. People cheered, clapping. The boy was taken to a corner. "Francis! Tie 'im up. I think we'll slow roast this'n." Laughter erupted; the boy trembled. He had heard of the cannibals stalking cities like this; however, he had never believed it. He was tied to a slightly charred stick, with some skin still sticking to it.
He cried some more.
Two forked metal supports were on either side of the fire; they were likely golf-club racks, or something similar. The boy's thoughts were anywhere but there, however; they were centered on how agonized his death would be. He screamed and cried, eliciting naught but more laughter from the men. The stick was set on the supports.
He screamed.
The fire licked at him, catching his clothes and burning him. It seared, it hurt, he screamed more. What a cruel jest. Saved...only to be given a worse fate. What world was this, that let this happen? A cruel one. A sick one. A twisted one.
A living hell.
