Heya, its me, coral. I got a new story. I've never posted anything fictional, so I hope ya like it. It's not really my style, but sometimes I'm in one of those moods where I just want to.... jeez... ok, here it is. Tell me how ya like it, or how ya dont.. 
September 21, 2003
It's been at least a week since I've been here. My name is Coral and I'm being held prisoner by those who wish me to be dead, but not before being made to suffer. I am not aware yet of my location, just that time is precious and I do not know how much longer I have. Every day is like a nightmare, and every night is filled with passing thoughts of tortures and unimaginable horrors running through my tired mind. Through many of my 'sessions' I have been pushed past the point of exhaustion and all traces of thought. Though it is not the wishes of my assailants that I am harmed yet, they have destroyed my spirit and any false sense of hope I once had. In my room there is but one small window, which leads to nothing more than a brick-lined hallway. In the corner a small toilet, and my food tray is kept on the sill next to the window. I sleep on the cold, damp floor, only to be woken up by men prying the heavy door open and dragging me to the conversation room. That is, if I even sleep at all. They call it that, the conversation room, but really it is a cell where I am tied down and tickled without hesitation or mercy. I cannot distinguish between days anymore. I am unable to remember any specific events in my past, lest the lingering thought of the outside world drives me mad. The table that they tie me to is harder than the concrete I sleep on. The cuffs around my wrists cut into my flesh, but do not lend me a chance of escape. Those very same cuffs are tied overhead to a rotating bar, so that my body can be stretched out as far as my limbs will let it. After my knees and elbows are bound, my ankles are tied together and then to the end of the table, so that I am ancored down. I know what comes next. I know it all too well. There is no talking. There is no 'conversation' to fills this room. There is only my shrieks and pleads for mercy as my captors dig their fingers into my ribs. I cannot choke out the horrible sensations I feel while they dig their fingers in between my ribs. Between each and every one, while I arch my back trying to twist away. Being made to beg for my life, for a breath of air, I am relentlessly tickled down my sides. Then there is another set of hands. Before I can even feel it, I twist in my bonds. They tickle my bare underarms, causing me to burst out with painful laughter. I am not able to beg anymore. And the tickling will continue. From under my blindfold my mind races as every inch of my underarms are scratched away. The fingers digging into my flesh on my sides are driving me mad. They do not stop. They are always there. I manage to squeak out a plea. "...please..." but they do not listen. Nobody listens. My screams echo in the room. My sides are bursting and I can feel my head getting light. Suddenly it all stops. I can't make a sound. I can't move. Listening to the silence for a clue as to what will happen next, my body lays still. The heavy room offers no audible insight to the whereabouts of my assailants. Out of the darkness, though, I can sense something. There is a humming. A low buzz fills the air. My arms suddenly tense up and I pull as hard as I can when I feel someone grabbing my foot. Peeling off the sock they hold my bare food completely immobile. there is one hand below my heel, and another gripping my bare toes, causing me to wince at the slight pain. Suddenly all of that dissopates, however, as a small electric brush is applied to my sole. While it makes small circles, I scream for mercy. Clenching my fists, I am pulling my arms down cutting the cuffs into my wrists. My futile attempts to cancel out the tickling fail as I beg for mercy through bouts of unstoppable laughter. This goes on for a while. My toes are held back while the brush is applied between them. This causes me to go quiet. I cannot even struggle. I beg with my mind, but with my lips I say nothing. And that is all I remember. I woke up here, in my cell again. I can here them talking. They will come for me. I will fight them, and they will drag me away while I continue to beg and fight against them. I don't yet know what lies before me. I write this because I want to hope. I need to believe there is someone out there that will save me. If you are out there, please do not hesitate, I cannot survive much longer.courier new
September 21, 2003
It's been at least a week since I've been here. My name is Coral and I'm being held prisoner by those who wish me to be dead, but not before being made to suffer. I am not aware yet of my location, just that time is precious and I do not know how much longer I have. Every day is like a nightmare, and every night is filled with passing thoughts of tortures and unimaginable horrors running through my tired mind. Through many of my 'sessions' I have been pushed past the point of exhaustion and all traces of thought. Though it is not the wishes of my assailants that I am harmed yet, they have destroyed my spirit and any false sense of hope I once had. In my room there is but one small window, which leads to nothing more than a brick-lined hallway. In the corner a small toilet, and my food tray is kept on the sill next to the window. I sleep on the cold, damp floor, only to be woken up by men prying the heavy door open and dragging me to the conversation room. That is, if I even sleep at all. They call it that, the conversation room, but really it is a cell where I am tied down and tickled without hesitation or mercy. I cannot distinguish between days anymore. I am unable to remember any specific events in my past, lest the lingering thought of the outside world drives me mad. The table that they tie me to is harder than the concrete I sleep on. The cuffs around my wrists cut into my flesh, but do not lend me a chance of escape. Those very same cuffs are tied overhead to a rotating bar, so that my body can be stretched out as far as my limbs will let it. After my knees and elbows are bound, my ankles are tied together and then to the end of the table, so that I am ancored down. I know what comes next. I know it all too well. There is no talking. There is no 'conversation' to fills this room. There is only my shrieks and pleads for mercy as my captors dig their fingers into my ribs. I cannot choke out the horrible sensations I feel while they dig their fingers in between my ribs. Between each and every one, while I arch my back trying to twist away. Being made to beg for my life, for a breath of air, I am relentlessly tickled down my sides. Then there is another set of hands. Before I can even feel it, I twist in my bonds. They tickle my bare underarms, causing me to burst out with painful laughter. I am not able to beg anymore. And the tickling will continue. From under my blindfold my mind races as every inch of my underarms are scratched away. The fingers digging into my flesh on my sides are driving me mad. They do not stop. They are always there. I manage to squeak out a plea. "...please..." but they do not listen. Nobody listens. My screams echo in the room. My sides are bursting and I can feel my head getting light. Suddenly it all stops. I can't make a sound. I can't move. Listening to the silence for a clue as to what will happen next, my body lays still. The heavy room offers no audible insight to the whereabouts of my assailants. Out of the darkness, though, I can sense something. There is a humming. A low buzz fills the air. My arms suddenly tense up and I pull as hard as I can when I feel someone grabbing my foot. Peeling off the sock they hold my bare food completely immobile. there is one hand below my heel, and another gripping my bare toes, causing me to wince at the slight pain. Suddenly all of that dissopates, however, as a small electric brush is applied to my sole. While it makes small circles, I scream for mercy. Clenching my fists, I am pulling my arms down cutting the cuffs into my wrists. My futile attempts to cancel out the tickling fail as I beg for mercy through bouts of unstoppable laughter. This goes on for a while. My toes are held back while the brush is applied between them. This causes me to go quiet. I cannot even struggle. I beg with my mind, but with my lips I say nothing. And that is all I remember. I woke up here, in my cell again. I can here them talking. They will come for me. I will fight them, and they will drag me away while I continue to beg and fight against them. I don't yet know what lies before me. I write this because I want to hope. I need to believe there is someone out there that will save me. If you are out there, please do not hesitate, I cannot survive much longer.courier new
