The Person Who Feeds VS The Person Who Hunts

Chapter 4, Part 1: Lambasters’s Pleasure House

Photo by Tanya Barrow on Unsplash

“The more you stab the weak, the stronger the response will be — from the other side. The more you punish the innocent, the more deadly the outcome will be — from the other side. The more you take from the poor, the less human you will be — FROM THE OTHER SIDE.”

The Narrator got up from his chair, shaking, and he grabbed the bottle of water from the kitchen. He came up to his chair, along with the bottle, sat down, and took a sip.

GulpGulp

He wiped his face with his trembling hands and, looking in the camera, with a face of grief, “I had to drink some water, and you should too, because what I’m going to say will dry your throats like an old well thirsting for water.”

The “Ride to Hell” is Here

Marcus was talking on the phone outside the hospital, a Rig passed through the main gate, and muffled screams could be heard from inside. Marcus signed as the Rig moved.

“Damn those Bastards!” furiousness in his tone, “One proof, and I’ll cut those Lambasters’ throats with my own teeth.”

The Rig moved to a deep valley outside the main city, known as the “No-Spot House.” The Rig itself had these big words written on it: “Ride to Hell.” Everybody knew it was over when the Rig roamed around the small roads of the filthy city, picking up people not by their crimes, but for someone else’s entertainment. For someone else’s pleasure.

The Rig would arrive at this place in the middle of the forest; the reason was to let the echoes of the screams heard through every street and doorway of Carnisburg. It was a place where only the rich brats would come to take a shit — and their shit was the weak people. Their souls were captured before their bodies were ever touched. The poor and the Rich would enter the pit, but only the rich left with the “satisfaction” they think they deserve. All that remained of the Poor were shreds of flesh, discarded like the bloody offal of a slaughtered pig.

This grotesque ritual was orchestrated by Curon, meant solely for the amusement of his son. The High Authorities can’t even touch him because of the power he holds over them. It is he who had the power of food and water, everything from clothes to living in a shithole — he was the one. If he had to show his true power, he would fuck them all in one go.

Photo by Bruno van der Kraan on Unsplash

The Arrival to Hell

The Rig arrived at the spot, the gate was rusty and long, reaching the sky, and a big board saying “Laughing and crying Pit” with the blood of the previous people. It was always done. Once the “Fun” part is over, the people are used in ways which you would never imagine — Spiked to a pillar in the pits, raped repeatedly, showcased in the rich household, and even fed to their pet dogs. This was all fun to the rich people. Seeing the guts pouring outside was their fantasy.

The Rig reached the left side of the area. The door opened, and twenty -five people of old, young, and weak were chained. Their skin turned black, with cut marks all over the chained area due to its rusty, old, and heavy body. Their voices could be heard trembling, their hands and feet shaking; it felt like the earth was moving. Their eyes were scared looking at what was around them and where they had come to — their Death. They got down from the Rig and stood there in complete silence, but their souls were screaming at the top of their voices.

The Guards arrived. They had black suits on, with a mask — a mask of human skin. It was molded into a perfect face. Eyes could be seen, and the mouth could be seen moving. It was perfect — according to Devon. The moment the people saw the guards, they started moving back, yelling and pushing. The guards grabbed them and started to move them towards the pit area. The moment they were all inside the pit. They were shocked and wailed in fear.

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The Introduction to “Laughing and Crying Pit”

The pit was a big circle covered with long, dark, and heavy wood, covered with blood and parts of human flesh. Two gates were in the front. One at the right and one at the left. It had these long spikes covering the upper part of the wood; it had animal faces pierced into them, but only one animal — that was the Pigs.

The faces were all rotten from the outside, with flies and maggots around them. The people stood there in fear and shuddering across each other’s shoulders. Then a guard from the upper roof came and started to remove one of the spears. The people watched in pain. The moment the Pig face was removed and thrown down towards them. The people lost their senses after seeing what was inside.

It was a human face, with the same state as the pig, but the eyes were missing, the mouth open with no tongue and teeth, only a deep hole for the worms, hair faded away, and the skull was open with a bluish brain which rotted away. Some people threw up after seeing this. The guard took the head and threw it down, rolled over to the people. They were scared, screaming, and started to fear more because there were twenty-five spears in that circle. It felt like one for each of them.

One of the poor individuals moved closer to inspect the face, which was rotten and bore the word “Loser” scratched into the forehead with a sharp object. The people had no hope. All of a sudden, they heard a noise — chattering, laughing, and giggling filling up the air. People in the pit looked around with confusion, hands on their chest, heart beating louder and louder, eyes rolling out everywhere. There was a huge, low-pitched rasp that vibrated through the floorboards on the top of the pit. It was the old, wooden doors that groaned on their rusted hinges as the crowd walked in. The people at the bottom stared up at the newcomers.

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Fancy Shit

Those people had worn outfits which were black and shiny — suits and dresses. The scent of expensive perfume filled the air, overwhelming the space. Their giggles and profanities echoed throughout the pit as they arrived. They looked at the captives with eyes that were filled with lust, pleasure, and laughter. Their faces were more like thirsty demons ready to eat and feel the souls of the damned innocents.

Guards entered the pit from the exit gate, located on the right side. They started to unchain them and pushed them into the middle of the pit. They stood there while all the rich brats took their seats and drinks. There was mummering all around the place; the poor were dizzy and felt exhausted as the pit gave a mixed smell of fragrance and dead meat, which would make anyone puke. The rich didn’t feel shit, because they were used to it. These twats were more disgusting, fetid, and miasmic than these poor souls.

Narrator’s eyes filled with tears of helplessness, hands shaking and teeth grinding, he stood up with anger in his motions, looking at the camera, curled his fingers into a tight pinch, “If — If I had even this much. Even the slightest power” his voice getting deeper.

“I COULD HAVE FUCKED THEIR THROATS UNTIL THEY LOST THEIR VOICES! BEFORE DYING THROUGH THEIR MISERABLE AND FILTHY HANDS,” He continued, “THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS THINK THEY OWNED US!”

He coughed, his voice splintering. Grabbing the bottle of water, he sat down and sipped just enough to clear the grit from his throat. He sighed, his voice dropping to a low, hollow whisper: “But why am I saying this?” He swung his right hand toward his chest, inflated his lungs, and let out a heavy sigh — a breath that sent the dust on the table swirling away into the stagnant air of the closed room. “I couldn’t save my own blood,” He gasped a bit. “All I could do was — watch while the pigs eat.” His eyes widened, “Oh,” coughs, “as we are talking about the pigs, here comes the Bore.”

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Arrival Of the King-Pig

Then, there came a sound of a car horn, the rich went silent, and the poor were confused. The gates opened from the back of the pit. A polished 1950s Black Cadillac Series 62 came inside, making the dust below the surface mutter. The rich stood in their place, murmuring, drinking, and smoking. While the Poor got pushed towards the corner, the guards let the car reach the middle of the pit.

Click!

The door opened. Devon walked out with a White suit, clean as a chalk which was ready to ruin the lives of the people on the pit which he looks at it as a blackboard, His skin– tattooed half the way through is neck, black as a rotten meat which is kept for a long time just like his family, His posture — like a bad mischievous brat who’s going to explode and what he might do next maybe unknown to the people around him, his hair — hasty. Feels like he just woke up. He had these pitch-black glasses on. He moved his head around, smirked, and started to walk forward. While walking, the Poor begged him to have mercy on them. The guards moved them away — pushing and kicking them.

Devon stood in the middle, looking at the crowd, rubbing his hands, stretching them wide, with a smile, “Welcome! People, welcome to the Fifteenth celebration of this Event! The crowd cheered, while the people suffering were terrified by the looks and laughs of the rich brats. Devon pointed his fingers at the Poor people, smiling, and looked back to the crowd, “Thanks to these people, you guys will be entertained to the fullest.” Then a person among the Poor came forward, an old, but well-built man, with a long beard, wet mud all over his body, with a low voice, but meant great harm.

“What will you get with all this?” Devon looked at the old man, with a surprising face, the old man pointing towards the people behind him, “Can’t you see these people have families to feed, a life to live which you are about to ruin?” he continued, “But you pathetic fools just to see yourself satisfied, kill us! for what?” he shouted, “FOR WHAT!!”

Devon stood there, with his hands folded around his chest, looking down at his shoes.

Silence.

He smirked and started to walk towards the old man. The old man stood quietly. Devon reached and put his hands around the man’s shoulders. “What’s your name?” he asked with no strings. “Barry,” the man replied. “So, Barry, for what you say?” for me? No! Devon said in bold; they started walking forward “I’m doing this for them — ” They both stopped. Devon whispered, “And for you.” Barry looked at Devon with confusion. Devon said with hope in his voice.

“Why do you think these people are here for? Huh? For you? Exactly! That may be one point, but do you know the second reason? He continued, pointing at the crowd, “These people have bet on you more than $50,000!” Barry was shocked but said nothing. Devon grabbed Barry’s shoulders and said, “You die, and the money goes to your family!” Don’t you get it? All you have to do is win the game. That’s it. Pointing towards the ground, “These flesh you see, these bones, these — these were some greedy dumb fuckers who got what they deserve, but YOU’re pointing on the Barry’s chest ‘YOU prove everybody sitting on that fucking bench wrong.” And looking in the eyes of Barry, with a smile, “Now is your time to shine.”

Photo by Manuel Keller on Unsplash

Cry to the Grave

Patting Barry’s shoulder, Devon moved towards the crowd. “All right, everyone, sorry for the delay. Let’s begin the grand event!” The crowd started to cheer with their drinks, while those in the pit cried, trembled, and wailed. Barry, however, remained quietly still. Devon exited through the front gate, and the car was driven outside, leaving people standing in the pit with foreboding feelings.

Devon reached the upper edge of the pit to get a better view of everyone below. He looked around and asked his guard, “Where’s — where’s James?” “I’m here!” came a voice above the loud cheering. James Lambaster entered wearing a fancy black and white striped suit, polished black boots, and four diamond rings — two on each hand. His short hair had a dry, cold appearance, and he sported a well-trimmed beard that made him look like he stepped out of a picture. “UNCLE!” Devon exclaimed, stretching his arms to hug him. They embraced warmly.

“Look at you! You look fabulous!” James smiled. “Thanks, Son. I had to — it’s for this event. It will be good, right?” Devon giggled. “Oh, Uncle, you won’t be disappointed. It’s better than the last one.

You know the saying: “If a Bitch gives you head, what do you do?” James smirked and replied, “YOU SIT AND ENJOY.” They both laughed.

Devon faced the crowd in the pit and clapped his hands. “Silence, everyone!” He signaled his guards, who entered the pit and handed out sharp knives, swords, and a custom briar blade. Some were frightened and refused the weapons, their hands trembling as pieces of flesh clung to the blades. With a broad smile, Devon announced, “People of Carnisburg, I promised that I will bring something new for this event, and here it is. Ladies and gentlemen, let me present to you “CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!” The crowd erupted in applause and excitement.

The pit door to the left opened, and a figure walked out. A hush fell over the crowd as the people in the pit couldn’t believe their eyes. A seven-foot-tall giant emerged, looking as solid as a massive brick. His face appeared to be covered by a sack with holes for his eyes, and his skin bore marks that looked like it had been stitched together multiple times. He wielded no weapon; all he had was a damaged brain. Chains hung around his legs, allowing just enough movement in the pit. His heavy breathing echoed like loud sighs. The people in the pit huddled in one corner, anxiously anticipating what was to come. Barry looked to Devon, who smiled as the words echoed.

“All you’ve got to do is win the game.”

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