Horror Story: the Butcher’s House

He heard them. The voices were getting louder and louder, and his heartbeat increased with every step. His breath was almost as loud as his pulse. His glasses laid broken on a rock beside him. The absence of his glasses caused his vision to become blurry. His torso was turned to the side, with his right leg stuck under a heavy branch, which had fallen during his sprint toward the shed. He covered most of his body with leafs as a disguise that would hopefully help him avoid his predators. He knew it was late, since hours had passed since the sunset.The leafs crinkled underneath their feet as he heard them walking deeper into the dark forest. After some time, the sound passed and he began the process of pulling his injured leg out. As he tried to move it, he noticed some twigs got stuck in his thigh. The blood was dripping onto the ground and soaking his jeans. He was breathing heavily as he desperately pushed the branch away from his leg. The jeans were ripped where the twigs had been, and left open wounds of flesh. A mixture of blood and sweat was pouring from his face and into his eyes. He tried standing up and slowly continue his movement toward the shed, but it became a more difficult task with his leg dragging behind him. Upon turning around, he squinted his eyes and saw three black figures in the distance, and decided to walk in the opposite direction. He struggled to move, and his limping resulted in him falling into a ditch filled with mud.
He pulled himself out of the mud and ran for the tree line. The rain beat down and blood washed into his eyes, making it harder and harder to find the entrance to the path. He was breathing loud. He tried to stop it, to control it, to hide it, but it was too much. He found the entrance to the path and ran followed it till he reached the old shed. He crashed through the door and slammed it shut. He tried to barricade it with the rakes, and the pitchforks, but it was not possible. He could hear them outside now. They were here. They were just outside. He pushed himself against the door, grasping a pitchfork…wiping the blood away from his eyes. Waiting, he discovered a sudden silence. The only thing that could be heard were the rhythmical drops of rain dripping into a bucket. The silence was soon interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. His head desperately looked around the seemingly empty shed, only to find a broken hockey stick. He picked it up and held it tightly to his chest. The knocking continued, and his hold on the broken stick intensified. As he shifted to the side, the door forcefully opened and the three dark shadows entered. The single beam of light reflected on the object one of them was holding. It appeared to be a steak knife. The stick was grabbed from his firm hold, and smashed into his head. He fell onto the ground unconscious.  When awoke he found himself sitting in the middle of the basement of his house. The previous owner had been a butcher, and used the basement as the slaughter area. He repeatedly blinked his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision. Around him hung sharp knifes and blades, and on the table in front of him laid scalpels of various sizes. He tried to speak, to yell for help, but a cloth was stuffed in his mouth with tape wrapped around it. His hands and legs were tied to the chair he was sitting on. A woman appeared in front of him. She was wearing a mask with the face of a clown. She tilted her head as she looked at him, and let her fingers trace the handles of the scalpels on the table. She stopped on the last one and picked it up. Slowly, she rolled up her sleeve and began to cut the inside of her arm. The blood seeped out and dripped onto the floor. A creaking noise emerged from the corner of the room. A man with the same mask was rocking on a chair with a clown doll in his lap. The man tied up in the chair was nervous and confused of what was about to happen. The anxiety grew and his heart beated impossibly fast. Finally, the third figure entered the room. It was another man carrying multiple boxes in his hands. He had a tattoo of a cross on his right arm. He too was wearing a clown mask. The masked man and woman whispered to each other, before simultaneously walking out of the room. The man desperately tried to release himself from the chair, only to be left with disappointment a frustration. The man in the corner continued to rock back and forth while petting the doll. After a while, the man with the doll got up and left as well. He was confused by this, and decided to continue freeing his hands. His actions were interrupted by the three of them re entering the room.
-It’s time, said the woman and they all gathered around the table. They picked up one each, and one of the men walked closer to the chair.
-If you’re loud I will cut deeper, he said with joy in his voice, he grabbed his leg and used the scalpel to cut the thigh. The man screamed, and so the cut got deeper. Next came the woman and used a smaller scalpel.
-You have such beautiful eyes. I think it’s time you share them, she said and grabbed his face to cut his left eye out. Because of the man’s resistance, the three masked people all held him as the woman slowly cut out the eye.
Blood was gushing out, and the wound was left exposed. The man whimpered and cried.
-My turn, said the man with the doll. He grabbed a scalpel and walked up to the man. He inspected him, and decided what his move was going to be.
-We haven’t got a hand yet! he exclaimed and switched to a saw-like object. All of them held onto the man’s shoulders as he pushed the saw back and forth into his flesh until the hand came off.
-I think it’s time for an ear, said the tattooed man, and proceeded to cut off his ear. Afterwards, they placed all of the parts into individual boxes. At this point, the man had passed out due to all the pain. As he woke up, he was hanging upside down, next to a corpse with body parts missing. the repulsive smell of death had filled the room entirely. The doll the man was holding seemed to have adjustments. It now had a new eye and ear on it. The cloth had been removed from his mouth, and he was finally able to speak.
-Please let me go, said the man exhaustedly.
-We’re not finished with you yet, said the woman and continued to clean the scalpels with dish detergent. The windows let in the light from the sunrise. The man continued hanging helplessly from the ceiling, numb from any pain in his body. All he could do was cling onto the hope of being rescued, but that hope was soon taken away from him as he felt his heart beating slower and slower, and his one eye closing shut.