You found a head where?!!!

I ran into some creative writing exercises the other day and I thought it would be fun to try a few out. So, here goes…

You open the fridge to find a head

Chelsea’s heart stopped as she let out a little scream. She quickly stifled herself and attempted to regain her composure. She had to be quiet as she knew what was in the next room waiting for her. He hadn’t taken notice that the drugs had worn off and she had been tiptoeing around the room, investigating her new, strange surroundings.

The room appeared to be a large studio flat that’s undergoing renovations. The building is likely vacant, that's why he picked it as the backdrop for his horror scenario. There are sheets over what looks like furniture; they are covered in a layer of dust that shows just how forgotten this property is to the owners. Chelsea doubts the owner is her captor. No, he’s a squatter taking advantage of the empty property.

One of the windows isn’t fully covered by boards. Chelsea can see outside, barely. There aren’t many buildings in the near vicinity. The few she can see also appear to be dilapidated. She feels like she is lost in a wasteland.  

Her eyes scan to the bare mattress on the floor. There are urine stains and evidence of bed bugs. That is where she woke up just minutes ago, feeling woozy and confused. She has no recollection of how she got into her current perdicament.

Chelsea turns her attention back to the refrigerator, to the head inside. She’s not afraid of the blood and gore. Curious is a better word. Curious and anxious, and afraid. She is definitely afraid. The head was severed from the rest of the body. It looks like a clean cut, like the person responsible had taken a machete and done the deed with one swoop. Whomever is holding her against her will is fierce and lethal.

She knows that person is nearby. She can hear a t.v. in the next room and a voice. It sounds like the voice is having a one-sided conversation or is talking on a phone. This is why she hasn’t tried screaming and is watching her every step as she forms an escape plan.

Chelsea quietly closes the refrigerator door. Staring at her possible fate will not help her out of her predicament. She takes a step back as she turns to sneak off in the direction of what appears to be a hallway. Then she hits something, a piece of furniture. It makes a squelching noise as it scrapes against the linolium kitchen floor. It’s a chair, and now she’s panicking. That was too much noise. The t.v. in the next room goes silent and the man’s voice has stopped. Then she hears a door open and another, all new wave of fear washes over her.

***