Saturday 27 June 2015

'The Hitman' by Allan McDonough

The world rotates at 1037 miles per hour, and as I come to, my head spins with it. Oh shit where am I? The unmistakeable scent of chloroform burns my nostrils. I've used it a thousand times, no more, but I never cared much about its effects, until now. My brain is crushed against the top of my skull. Oh fuck, I'm upside down. With each heartbeat more blood gushes in. It might burst if I don't get down.

My eyes won't fucking open. Corse thread scratches my eyeballs as they roll about in the sockets. That sick bastard actually did it. He's fucking sewn them shut. Tears trickle up my forehead. I'm not sure if it's blood. What's in my mouth? What ever it is, I can't spit it out. My mouth won't open. Something scuttles past my head. Tiny claws on wood. Then another set, and another. A squeak here, a scratch there. The pestilent stench of flee-ridden, sewer rats. I fucking hate rats.

What the fuck happened? It was supposed to be a routine hit. Fifty grand for ten minutes work, and one less drug pushing fuck-wit to poison our streets. But that cockney cunt must have been tipped off.

The gag reflex kicks in and bile falls into my mouth, I can't swallow it down, or up, because there's something blocking the way. My lips sting as the hot liquid seeps through and dribbles up my face. The searing pain dial turned up to eleven as the chloroform wears off.

My naked flesh burns as the icy air claws at my body. The deep throbbing pain between my legs is getting worse and a warm trickle rises up my stomach and across my chest. The rusty tang of blood hangs in the air. I can't believe this is how I'm going out. Hung upside down like a prize cow. It's no more than I deserve.

Far away a dog barks, a fucking big one. Not a friendly pass my ball bark, more an if you don't feed me i'm going to eat you bark.

The memory floods into my brain. Him in my sights. One quick depress and his brain would spread across the wall. I waited for him to turn, to see the whites of his eyes, but it wasn't him. Then a hand gripped nose and mouth. Vapours filled my head, and my eyes burned as I drifted away...'Never fuck with family. I want 'im to feel pain. Make 'im swallow his cock, an' then fuckin' feed 'im to fuckin fluffy.'

The door rattles against the wall. A rumbling growl rises to crescendo. Hot breath brushes my face. Fluffy.

The original story is posted on the wordcloud


  1. Gruesome. In a good way...

  2. Compelling and utterly gruesomely satisfying.

  3. Nicely handled growing awareness - frightening.


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