return to content catalog »

"Unforgivable" by Sarv

It's a story of a boy who got kidnapped and his horrifying experience.

Category: Short Story

Tags: Fiction, Horror

You can do an inline review of this work in the review tab.

Unforgivable


A man asked me about what I believe. I never expected to be asked that question because earlier, he had taken me off the street, covered my head with a brown sack. I could still smell the scent of blood inside. The fact that it wasn’t mine scared the hell out of me. I'm only sixteen. . I supposed to be playing with my friends, not being kidnapped


Hours had passed before the man took off the bloody smelly sack off my head. I found myself inside a small square room, kneeling on the floor. It was small, its side was only three meter and the height was five meter. On the ceiling, there was one small orange light bulb. With its light I could see clearly where I was at. The walls were full with green mold and some kind of red stains. I hoped it was paint but my mind knew it wasn’t.


His blue eyes stared at me as if I was some kind of specimen on a lab. The man had a thick brown beard that covered most of his lower face. “The sign of a psycho” I though.


The strange thing was that he never even bothered to tie me. I could punch him in the face and escape but something in his blank yet threatening eyes stopped me from doing it.

“What do you believe?” That psycho asked me like he was interviewing me for work.

At first, I didn’t say anything. I was too afraid. I dared not to answer. I don’t want to answer him.

“What do you believe?” He asked me again, this time the voice was louder and deeper than before. I still didn’t answer. I felt my heart raced. My eyes widened. My breath became shallower. Seeing me like this, he smiled.


Then he left. I don’t why but he left. Maybe he saw that I won’t answer or maybe he was keeping me for something else. I curled up in the corner, hoping for the best. I saw on the floor, a notebook. Is it his? I slowly took it and read it. It was written in red ink or at least I hoped it was red ink. Some were short like: I believe in God; I believe that you will let me go; I believe you are insane. And some was pages long. I don’t want to read it anymore. I threw the book away.


For two hours, I sat there, not given any food or water. I was calm at first then the man came in. That psycho was smiling at me again. He leaned to me and grabbed my right arm. He took out a cutter. It didn’t took me long to realize what he was about to do. He pushed it against my wrist. I felt my blood bursting out. I screamed in pain but he didn’t stop there. He continued pushing the cutter until it penetrated my artery. He gave me a wider satisfied smile. At that time, so much blood had already left my body that I began to feel weak. The pain was no longer, replaced by strange sensation of tired and exhaustion. I black out.


When I awake, the man was gone. I still feel tired but now at least I didn’t feel my body is bleeding out. I looked at what he had done to my right hand. I was stunned. Even after I fainted, he didn’t stop. My hand was gone. I couldn’t believe it but that ***** had cut off my hand. Right after a noticed it, I begun to feel a slow excruciating pain. I looked around; scanning for my hand but it was gone. The only trace left was the pool of blood on the floor. The worst part was that he had actually bandaged my wrist so that I won’t die of blood work. He saved me just to feel the pain.


Three hours had passed again and I was dehydrated. I looked around and found water dripping from the ceiling. I opened my mouth and let the water in. I coughed. It tasted like sewer water but I didn’t care. I kept opening my mouth. I was too thirsty to care.


I felt a day had passed before the man visited me again. This time he came in whistling, carrying a stick like he was going fishing. I saw he was dragging something behind him. I focused on that something but something caught my eyes. I saw, on the end of the stick, my severed hand. It was pierced by the stick and was covered with what smell like barbeque sauce. He showed me what he was dragging, a griller. He turned it on.

“NOOO!” I shouted. I stood up and dashed toward him. He just calmly pushed me away. I was so weak that I couldn’t even stand up after that. I just fell and sat on the ground.

“Now let’s have a proper conversation” He said like he understood what’s the meaning of proper.

“Please…” I moaned. The pain had come back.

“Please what?” The man tapped the stick to his left hand “Are you hungry?” I wanted to say something but the words didn’t come out. “Don’t worry. I’ll cook something for you”

He giggled “This will be so much fun” Tears began to come out as I watched him grilled my hand. The smelt of burnt meat I smell. The terrifying part was that I found the smell somewhat delicious. Parts of my mind wanted to eat it.


After ten minutes, he stopped grilling my hand. He looked at me. He was enjoying all this. The man threw the stick to me. It fell upon my lap. “Eat if you want to survive another day.” The man pushed the griller out and closed the door, leaving me alone again.


The urge to eat it come but I resisted. I resisted with all my strength. I managed to survive yet another day. The man didn’t come visit me nor did he feed me anything. My stomach ached. Then I saw my grilled hand. “No” My mind said but my body took the hand and put it on my mouth. My teeth bite it like I was eating chicken wings. I closed my eyes. I feel the raw bland meat chewed in my mouth. Oh God, I’ve eaten my own hand.


Now my severed hand was nothing more than a bones. My strength began to return and I saw, on the ceiling’s corner, a surveillance camera. That ***** had been watching the whole the whole time.


He came in, yawning. “Finally” He covered my head with a brown sack. The man was carrying to somewhere. After thirty minutes, he threw me. I felt that I had landed on something hard and rough. Asphalt, he had thrown me to the street. “If you’re lucky, we’ll meet again.” He laughed hysterically. I didn’t feel grace that he had released me because even though I was free, my hand would never grow again. What he had done was unforgivable….







* login or signup to post your review

Category Name: My Thoughts

I did not enjoy this story. I am not even sure what problem the protagonist faced. This story was okay. The story would have been better if the author had introduced the problem differently and made it feel more pressing. I really enjoyed this story. The author did a good job pulling me into the story by introducing an immediate and important problem for the protagonist.

This section is for overall comments and general ideas. The score should reflect how much you enjoyed the story.

Category Name: Character Development

The characters were not dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable or unique. I don’t care about or understand the characters because they were poorly developed. The characters were somewhat dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable and unique. I partially understood the thoughts, feelings, and actions of the characters. I somewhat connected with and care about the characters. The characters were very dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable and unique. I thoroughly understood their thoughts, feelings and actions. I felt connected with and cared about the characters.

This is act of bringing a character to life on the page. It is a combination of the author’s description of the character and the character’s dialog, action, and thoughts. Though all characters should be believable, the protagonist and antagonist are usually the most developed characters.

Category Name: Plot

I finished reading the story so the plot must have unfolded, but I am not sure what the plot was. The characters did not achieve or grow by solving the problems they faced in this story. There were definite wrinkles in the way the plot unfolded leading to the final conflict. The plot was loosely tied to the achievement and growth of the characters. The way the protagonist overcame some of the problems flowed unnaturally with the story. I could see the plot unfolding through a series of escalating problems that lead to the final conflict. The plot helped me understand the achievements and growth of the characters. The way the protagonist overcame the problems flowed naturally with the st

In fiction a plot is all the events in a story, particularly rendered towards the achievement of some particular artistic or emotional effect. In other words it's what mostly happened in the story. The plot draws the reader into the character's lives and helps the reader understand the choices that the characters make.

Category Name: Dialog

The dialog seemed like cold words on paper. I had a hard time following it. I didn’t learn very much about the characters through the dialog. Through the dialog I could sometimes see the characters learn and grow while occasionally discovering new facets of their personalities. The dialog was generally consistent with the character. Through the dialog I could see the characters learn and grow while simultaneously discovering new facets of their personalities. The dialog was true to the character and it helped me understand the characters emotions.

Category Name: Setting

The setting created a haze in my mind that detracted from the story. I am lost in time and space because I don’t know when or where this story takes place. The setting was described adequately, but not well enough to bring it to life in my mind. The setting did not add to or detract from the story. I am pretty sure I know when and where the story takes place. The author engaged all of my senses while vividly describing the setting. The setting helped me better understand the setting and plot. I know when and where this story takes place.

The setting is where a story takes place. The choice of setting and its description helps the story come alive in the mind of the reader. Appropriate setting contributes to the plot and mood of the story.

Category Name: Mechanics

The story contained so many mechanical errors that it was hard to follow the plot or understand certain sentences or paragraphs. Occasional mechanical errors were distracting, but these errors did not inhibit me from being able to understand the plot or connect with characters in the story. I rarely if ever noticed mechanical errors. As far as I could tell, the writing was clear and correct.

Mechanics includes sentence structure, verb agreement, grammar, spelling, voice, punctuation and aspects of basic style.

Note: The purpose of ReviewFuse reviews is NOT to provide comprehensive copy editing, but rather to "ignite creativity." Reviewers should not feel obliged to point out every grammar or spelling error (though they certainly can if they wish), but should focus on this area only to the degree that errors make a story hard to follow or understand.

Inline comments are the most helpful and important aspects of your review.

Click on a paragraph or highlight text from the paragraph to provide inline comments. While detailed grammar correction is welcome, the purpose of inline commenting is to spark the author's creativity. This is best done by expressing feelings, questions, and concerns you have about the story while you are reading.

1. Unforgivable

2.

3. A man asked me about what I believe. I never expected to be asked that question because earlier, he had taken me off the street, covered my head with a brown sack. I could still smell the scent of blood inside. The fact that it wasn’t mine scared the hell out of me. I'm only sixteen. . I supposed to be playing with my friends, not being kidnapped

4.

5. Hours had passed before the man took off the bloody smelly sack off my head. I found myself inside a small square room, kneeling on the floor. It was small, its side was only three meter and the height was five meter. On the ceiling, there was one small orange light bulb. With its light I could see clearly where I was at. The walls were full with green mold and some kind of red stains. I hoped it was paint but my mind knew it wasn’t.

6.

7. His blue eyes stared at me as if I was some kind of specimen on a lab. The man had a thick brown beard that covered most of his lower face. “The sign of a psycho” I though.

8.

9. The strange thing was that he never even bothered to tie me. I could punch him in the face and escape but something in his blank yet threatening eyes stopped me from doing it.

10. “What do you believe?” That psycho asked me like he was interviewing me for work.

11. At first, I didn’t say anything. I was too afraid. I dared not to answer. I don’t want to answer him.

12. “What do you believe?” He asked me again, this time the voice was louder and deeper than before. I still didn’t answer. I felt my heart raced. My eyes widened. My breath became shallower. Seeing me like this, he smiled.

13.

14. Then he left. I don’t why but he left. Maybe he saw that I won’t answer or maybe he was keeping me for something else. I curled up in the corner, hoping for the best. I saw on the floor, a notebook. Is it his? I slowly took it and read it. It was written in red ink or at least I hoped it was red ink. Some were short like: I believe in God; I believe that you will let me go; I believe you are insane. And some was pages long. I don’t want to read it anymore. I threw the book away.

15.

16. For two hours, I sat there, not given any food or water. I was calm at first then the man came in. That psycho was smiling at me again. He leaned to me and grabbed my right arm. He took out a cutter. It didn’t took me long to realize what he was about to do. He pushed it against my wrist. I felt my blood bursting out. I screamed in pain but he didn’t stop there. He continued pushing the cutter until it penetrated my artery. He gave me a wider satisfied smile. At that time, so much blood had already left my body that I began to feel weak. The pain was no longer, replaced by strange sensation of tired and exhaustion. I black out.

17.

18. When I awake, the man was gone. I still feel tired but now at least I didn’t feel my body is bleeding out. I looked at what he had done to my right hand. I was stunned. Even after I fainted, he didn’t stop. My hand was gone. I couldn’t believe it but that ***** had cut off my hand. Right after a noticed it, I begun to feel a slow excruciating pain. I looked around; scanning for my hand but it was gone. The only trace left was the pool of blood on the floor. The worst part was that he had actually bandaged my wrist so that I won’t die of blood work. He saved me just to feel the pain.

19.

20. Three hours had passed again and I was dehydrated. I looked around and found water dripping from the ceiling. I opened my mouth and let the water in. I coughed. It tasted like sewer water but I didn’t care. I kept opening my mouth. I was too thirsty to care.

21.

22. I felt a day had passed before the man visited me again. This time he came in whistling, carrying a stick like he was going fishing. I saw he was dragging something behind him. I focused on that something but something caught my eyes. I saw, on the end of the stick, my severed hand. It was pierced by the stick and was covered with what smell like barbeque sauce. He showed me what he was dragging, a griller. He turned it on.

23. “NOOO!” I shouted. I stood up and dashed toward him. He just calmly pushed me away. I was so weak that I couldn’t even stand up after that. I just fell and sat on the ground.

24. “Now let’s have a proper conversation” He said like he understood what’s the meaning of proper.

25. “Please…” I moaned. The pain had come back.

26. “Please what?” The man tapped the stick to his left hand “Are you hungry?” I wanted to say something but the words didn’t come out. “Don’t worry. I’ll cook something for you”

27. He giggled “This will be so much fun” Tears began to come out as I watched him grilled my hand. The smelt of burnt meat I smell. The terrifying part was that I found the smell somewhat delicious. Parts of my mind wanted to eat it.

28.

29. After ten minutes, he stopped grilling my hand. He looked at me. He was enjoying all this. The man threw the stick to me. It fell upon my lap. “Eat if you want to survive another day.” The man pushed the griller out and closed the door, leaving me alone again.

30.

31. The urge to eat it come but I resisted. I resisted with all my strength. I managed to survive yet another day. The man didn’t come visit me nor did he feed me anything. My stomach ached. Then I saw my grilled hand. “No” My mind said but my body took the hand and put it on my mouth. My teeth bite it like I was eating chicken wings. I closed my eyes. I feel the raw bland meat chewed in my mouth. Oh God, I’ve eaten my own hand.

32.

33. Now my severed hand was nothing more than a bones. My strength began to return and I saw, on the ceiling’s corner, a surveillance camera. That ***** had been watching the whole the whole time.

34.

35. He came in, yawning. “Finally” He covered my head with a brown sack. The man was carrying to somewhere. After thirty minutes, he threw me. I felt that I had landed on something hard and rough. Asphalt, he had thrown me to the street. “If you’re lucky, we’ll meet again.” He laughed hysterically. I didn’t feel grace that he had released me because even though I was free, my hand would never grow again. What he had done was unforgivable….

36.

37.

38.

39.

40.

41.

Reviews that have been completed within the last 30 days

  • There are no reviews for this item.