Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
The Angel's Cicada Whisper
墨書 Inktalez
I stood on the high ground of the church with Lisa, our legs barely able to support our weight. The scene before us was horrifying, like something out of hell. Mark, the once brave and fearless man, now lay weakly on the altar. His mouth was forced open by a cruel device, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth onto the altar, splattering tiny droplets. His hands were nailed to either side of the altar with thick iron spikes, and his feet were similarly pinned down, resembling the suffering of Jesus.
I could feel my heart racing in my chest, and breathing became difficult. What terrified me most was Mark's expression. That once resolute face now bore no trace of pain; instead, it held a strange pride and joy. His eyes were hollow, staring into the void as if he were seeing visions we could not comprehend. That gaze sent chills down my spine, as if he was no longer the Mark we knew but a puppet controlled by an unknown force.
Around us, the worshippers had their eyes tightly shut, chanting incessantly, their voices reminiscent of a summer cicada song, creating a disturbing and eerie atmosphere. Their voices echoed within the church, as if an invisible force was gathering in the air, pressing down on my spirit. I could feel that force; it was like an invisible net wrapping tightly around both Lisa and me.
Lisa's hand gripped mine tightly; I could feel her palm slick with cold sweat. We stood helplessly there, watching Mark endure this indescribable torment on the altar. Countless thoughts flashed through my mind: how could we save him? What kind of ritual were these worshippers performing? Yet no matter how much I pondered, it seemed impossible to find answers.
That sound—the disturbing sound—seemed to grow louder and closer. I felt as if I were trapped in a sinister nightmare that was slowly consuming me. Each breath became increasingly difficult; every second felt like torture. I could sense fear spreading within me, eroding my sanity and courage.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. However, that eerie sound continued to echo in my ears, making it impossible to escape that profound sense of dread. I opened my eyes and looked at Lisa; from her gaze, I saw the same fear and determination reflected back at me. We had to press on, no matter what awaited us ahead. We had no way out but to face it head-on.
Yet I didn't know if we could make it through.
Time rewound to a month ago.
"Mad Dog Jenkins" was shouting again at Ling Feng Television Station. His voice thundered throughout the entire floor: "You useless idiots! This is the report you turned in? Are you kidding me?" His coarse voice filled the floor with profanity and threats intertwined like a sharp blade cutting through the air.
"What do you think I'm paying you for? If you can't produce results, get out! If anyone dares to turn in another late report, I'll shove their head in a toilet!" Jenkins' tirade made the air in the office heavy and oppressive. Then came a series of dull thuds from punches and kicks that made the walls tremble slightly. The people in the office seemed unfazed; their expressions were indifferent as if this had all become routine.
A middle-aged woman adjusted her glasses without a hint of emotion on her face. She skillfully pressed the phone on her desk, her voice calm and formulaic: "Security downstairs, come up to handle the injured." After hanging up, she returned to her paperwork as if everything that had just happened was merely part of her daily work.
"You worthless slugs can't even produce decent news stories and still have the nerve to stay here?" Jenkins' voice rose higher with frenzied anger. His words dripped with sarcasm and belittlement; each sentence felt like a poisoned barb piercing into everyone's hearts.
"Fuck, do you think you can just waste time here? Get out and find some news that can make money, or don't come back!" He kicked a chair over violently, the legs screeching against the floor. The others in the office kept their heads down, busy with their own tasks, not one of them daring to look towards Jenkins' office. Some were organizing documents, some were typing, and others were quietly discussing work progress. Everything seemed so normal yet so abnormal.
Jenkins' rage and violence seemed to have become part of the office's operation; no one was surprised or disturbed by it. Everyone carefully maintained their distance, afraid of becoming the next target of his wrath.
A few minutes later, several security guards pushed open the office door and entered swiftly and in unison. They skillfully helped the bruised employee up and dragged him out of the office, leaving behind a mess and Jenkins' ongoing dissatisfied roar. "If you mess up again next time, I'll make sure there's nothing left of you!"
As the security dragged the injured employee down in the elevator, the tension in the office eased slightly after the elevator doors slowly closed. The oppressive atmosphere felt a bit loosened, but everyone continued to work cautiously, not daring to make too much noise for fear of attracting "Mad Dog" Jenkins' attention.
Once Mark confirmed that both the security and the injured employee had left, he straightened up, looked around to ensure no one else was watching, and stood up triumphantly. He made a gesture for money with both hands, a sly smile spreading across his face as he cheerfully said, "I told you guys, I bet that new director will get punched within a week!"
Several employees muttered impatiently; some rolled their eyes while others frowned but still obediently pulled out cash. Reluctantly handing over their money to Mark, their faces showed helplessness and dissatisfaction. Mark laughed as he accepted the cash, his eyes sparkling with excitement as if this were a major gambling victory.
"Looks like my luck is really good; this is today's harvest." He happily counted the bills in his hand, his smile growing wider.
Eileen was among them; she helplessly pulled ten dollars from her pocket and handed it to Mark while making a face at him. "Mark, you're such a gambler. I hope you use this money to buy something decent."
Mark laughed heartily as he took the money and patted Eileen on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Eileen. Next time there's a newcomer, we can bet again. Let's see who has better luck."
Lisa nearby couldn't help but interject, "Mark, can't you be a little serious? This kind of betting is just boring."
Mark shrugged dismissively and said, "Hey, life needs some fun, doesn't it? It's not easy to find entertainment in this hellhole."
Eileen shook her head; although she felt somewhat helpless, she understood that in such a crazy environment, these bets had become a way for everyone to relieve stress. Watching Mark's smug face made her feel a mix of absurdity and helplessness. Everyone here struggled to survive under such pressure; perhaps only these little games could help them temporarily forget the fear and oppression brought by Jenkins.
Mark smiled as he put the money into his pocket and turned back to his seat. His triumphant laughter echoed in the office, as if it were a declaration of victory.
Comment 0 Comment Count