Foreword:
This story contains some socially unacceptable ideas and themes, so if you prefer a lighter hearted romp through rainbows and unicorns try a different story. Continue on if it floats or sinks your boat. Thanks for your patronage!
~WP

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“I have brought you all here for a reason” the stocky tall guy yelled from the front of our smaller sized room. Twenty of us laid out bound at the wrists and ankles on a hard cement floor. He walked through our crumpled contorted masses and began to shout directions to unseen assistants. The nonchalant comment to “throw them in the truck” as myself and a few other friends were hoisted up off the unfinished floor and carried towards an exit into the darkness of night. Our bodies were lifted and tossed like bags of luggage and before long concealed the wooden palates cushioning us from full impact with the metal bed of the vehicle’s interior.

We began to move not too long after being loaded inside towards an unknown destination. There were frequent turns and bumps along what I believed to be a dirt road and an indeterminable amount of time later the truck came to a halt. The men stepped around each of us forming an assembly line, passing us down along their sets of hands and off the truck onto a mattress I felt my body hit. My girlfriend was crying her eyes out and was slapped, sternly told to “shut her fucking mouth or she would be killed ‘swiftly and slowly’ “. I wanted nothing more than to show this person just what I was capable of. Anyone who has spent a decade locked up in a mental institution and intravenously fed a methodically predetermined plethora of narcotics, who now discovers life on the outside without that security of a drug fueled trance is not the person to have their patience tested.

Our captors unbound our ankles and forced us each to walk an estimated hundred paces. I smelled death. A stagnant musky scent with the realization of now treading across an unfinished hardwood floor. Steps brought us to the basement where that decaying aroma introduced itself to the scent receptors in my nostrils. The covering over my head was leathery and didn’t allow for oxygen to flow quite so well. We were allowed to see one by one with the removal of our blinders. I struggled to adjust to the barely noticeable glimmer of light down the corridor that I identified as a type of kiln. Losing my life was never a matter I considered so why should it be now? The life I once knew had ended and this served as a well needed distraction from the dormancy of suburban existence.

Our hands were freed also but the stocky man warned “no funny business or I make you into feed for the animals”.