Renard's Playtime ©2020 and Written by A. E. F.
All Rights Reserved.

"Roger, come on," Edward pleaded. "You have to get up and help me. If we ever want to get out of here, you gotta help me."

Edward used a small piece of metal like a shovel and dug into the ground. He'd scraped it off the nearby window bars. The dig was slow-going and the damn fleas were a constant menace. They bit him incessantly, especially on the ankles as he dug in vain at the human-waste-slicked, clay soil under their feet.

Roger sat quietly next to their partner, Millard, who'd given up. Not even the vermin running across his bony legs disturbed Millard anymore. The man'd had his tongue cut out for blasphemy long ago but until they'd been thrown in this place, Millard was at least sane. Edward didn't expect him to provide any verbal encouragement, but a supportive nod of the head every now and then would've been nice. Instead, Millard just sat in silence, staring off into space.

The useless lump.

Did these two know how important it was that they escape before that lunatic, Renard, returned? The man was a psychopath. Who knew what he'd do next? Edward shuddered at the prospect.

He thought back to the day they'd first arrived at this hellhole. Nothing more than a mud pit surrounded by stone, Edward's men were left to rot in their own filth and decay. When it rained, the ground softened with just enough water to leave their skin festering and swollen; impossible to be comfortable in.

Every few days, Renard would arrive with that sinister smile, riddled with manic desperation that bespoke of coming torture. To heighten the fear in Edward's squad, and to increase his own sick pleasure, Renard would leave the prison doors open so that each man could see what would eventually befall them all.

Kosovo had lost an eye, which Renard had dug out with a rusted teaspoon and then served in soup to Josh the next day. This all before Josh himself had lost his manhood to poor Hallgarth.

Gagging and crying, Hallgarth was forced to castrate Josh. When it was time for Hallgarth to eat the severed bits, he tried not to swallow but was no match for Renard's iron-spreader, which held his open mouth while Renard forced the retched things down Hallgarth's throat.

Not that it mattered.

When Renard was finished with the bloody bits, he followed them down with a batter of crushed glass and oatmeal that had Hallgarth bleeding out almost immediately. With a sadistic laugh and a spring in his step, Renard walked away covered in blood and gore while Roger vomited on the floor next to the shit that Millard had soiled himself with.

Damn Millard.

Damn Roger.

Why wouldn't they just help him?

"Come on, man," Edward pleaded one last time before turning his ear to his right. He could hear footsteps coming in the wet mud. Fear gripping his innards, Edward ran over to his last two mates and crouched down on all fours. He grabbed the fire-burned skull of Roger, its vacant, black eye sockets staring out at him. He reached for the rat-gnawed bone of Millard's right hand. "You gotta help me! Please!" He cried.

Just then, metal squealed as the heavy, wooden door of their cell pulled open.

"Oooh, Ed-w-ar-d!" Renard sing-songed. "Guess what time it is!"

Only the black crows in the nearby Ash tree heard Edward's pleas for mercy as he screamed...