A/N: Hey-o Peeps, so...this is a bit of a strange piece. It wrote it to be stange. Its kinda demented. I'm sorry if it freaks anyone out. I don't think it will, but I wrote it after watching something that expended my moral code and so... yeah, it was a weird strange experience for the Hogwarts House Challenge, which is a challenge forum that you should consider joining if you are into that kinda thing. I recommend joining Ravenclaw House (because we are in desperate need of peoples).

Also 582-592 words, so in range. Whoop!

Hoots,

Owls


He could feel it in his throat—duh-duh duh-duh duh...duh duh-duh—fast and fleeting. The world was growing ever darker. There was a twitching feeling in his side, his leg perhaps.

His muddled thoughts were slung about his head as he was thrown across the room. The force of which illuminating like a beacon in the night from the tip of a wand-like tool. He fell to the ground, limp and nearly lifeless, heart patterning and seething for the purchase of a steady beat. Why was he trying so desperately to make it another second in this hellish torture? Was it fear or was it death? Could it be both? Fear rose as bile in his throat, but death forced it out in a pathetic attempt to survive. A harsh and frantic beat to march to. It was too fast, too long, too hard. He couldn't catch up he knew it. He had come to peace with it, lying in his vomit and blood his clothes torn and body bruised.

His beat was now gentle and calm. It terrified him…—duh-dum duh-dum duh-duh duh-duh. He could barely think. It seemed he was frozen in a second of freedom, so long ago, laughing, but then...his friends lost in the woods; and he, alone to stagger drunkenly to them, screaming in the darkness. It was a mistake he would never be able to take back.

He retched again, his mind clearing as more vomit seeped into his clothes. Feeling seemed lost to him, but then a bout of screaming. The clashes of struggles echoed in the stone room, and he could here every agonizing sound. Every scream, psychotic laugh, vomiting, splatter of blood. He could hear it and feel some of it too. Until, submission came and another body thrown against his legs slick with blood and vomit and cold with death.

Footsteps clipped closer accompanied by mumbles of a language he spoke but could no longer understand. He was so scared, and he couldn't move. Every limb was useless and broken, and at one point, he had felt a harsh pain in his chest, a cracked rib or maybe his lungs in frantic pace from running away. Those chasing him, nipping at his heals, taunting him —duh-duh duh-duh duhdumdum—were too fast. They caught him before he even saw their crooked, silvery had wanted to scream out in pain in warning to the others he saw herded in behind him that they these people were crazy - they would kill them, but his voice had left him so long ago it seemed like days or months or year though it could have only been hours.

The clipping of the blurry black outlines stopped; there was laughter, a strange echoing thing accompanied by the screams of another. He wished for their equally swift death from the crazed beings that caught him too for they weren't human. They were far worse. Thousands of times worse.

Suddenly, after years of the screams continuing, Pain ripped through him once more from the tip of a cold piece of wood jabbing into his rib sending shocks of sharp knives clawing into his skin. It was one final feeling that released the pounding into a frantic ecstasy before...nothing. He was drifting out to the rhythm of his dying heartbeat.

Duh-dum

duh-dum

duh

dum

duh-duh

.

dum

dum

duh

dum

.

.

.

duh

.

.

.

duh

dum.

There was no telling why he was so alone, scared, and unable to cry, but...what a strange world it had been.