Castle of death
Posted by Barbanne (Remember me?) on August 28, 2004 at 01:16:24:
CASTLE OF DEATH
I was cold.
Seawater had soaked my lower body and seeped into my boots.
The fine, icy cold rain slashed at my upper body soaking my clothing and adding to my misery.
Clinging to the black, slippery rocks I looked back to where the riding lights of the fishing boat were disappearing into the misting rain. I looked up, wiping my palm across my cheeks to clear my eyes from the droplets that trickled, inexorably and annoyingly, into everything, eyes, mouth, running down under my collar and drenching my plastered hair.
Above me the almost sheer cliffs towered forbiddingly upwards and at the top, perched like some dark and evil bird of prey, lurked the smooth, stone walls of Karntstein Castle. Yellow light seeped from the thin, vertical embrasures in the otherwise impenetrable masonry.
The terrifying citadel of the Nazi machine. A name synonymous with torture, pain, suffering and death. The gruesome laboratory where the twisted medical monsters of the Third Reich practised their sadistic, evil, perverted cruelties on countless young women.
The dungeons of this horrible stone pile were packed with the corpses of numberless female slaves, sex slaves of the insane regime that flourished under the Nazis.
Flourished and grew here in this sinister fortress of depravity.
I looked for a way to scale the cliffs. Some way to find an entry into this monstrous stronghold of doom, of death.
Then the fingers touched me and my chilled body froze.
"Ach Fraulein this is not a very comfortable place you find yourself in. Come inside and ve vill make you at home, at home in Karntstein Castle."
I looked up and, just for a moment as the blanket of cloud parted, I saw the death's head insignia on the collar of the amorphous shape above me, shining maliciously in the pale cold moonlight.
So what do you think?
Is this a story worth continuing?
Hmmm, maybe, maybe not, any suggestions?
PS For those looking for Part 142 of Playdead, it has been started in my compewter but I am waiting for inspiration. I know what its about and where its going but I just can't make myself sit down and write anything.
I think I'm what's called stuffed....................