The SICK Chronicles: An Anthology of Extreme Violence and Gore

by Nelson Samuels

  I stand, “What the fuck just happened?” I said allowed as I began to breathe heavily. I had no idea where I was, having been taken there blindfolded to begin with, and my phone didn’t even fucking work. Believe me, I’d tried it. I sat back down into my chair for a moment trying to gather my thoughts. I may have sat there five minutes, as I finally noticed a woman wearing a mask walk into the room and toward the camera. She removed it from the tripod.

  “You can go now, Nelson,” she said as she walked out of the room.

  Was that it? What the hell had just happened? I asked no questions, and only gathered my belongings from the room I’d stayed in and began to walk out of the woods. I didn’t know in what direction to go, or where it’d even lead. I just walked. I eventually came across a simple two lane paved road, and walked for at least an hour until a truck pulled up beside me. An older man was driving and asked if I needed a ride.

  “Please,” I said.

  “Get on in, son,”

  “Where am I?” I asked him as he began to drive.

  “Where you are isn’t important,” he said as he stared at me directly in the eyes and smiled. “It’s where you’re heading that matters.”

  As I sat in that old man’s truck, driving in the opposite direction from the carnage I’d just witnessed over those past couple of days, I realized that truer words had never been spoken.