Deadly Illusions

 

 

DEADLY ILLUSIONS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By

Robert Brown

 


© Robert Brown 2017 All Rights Reserved.

 

 

This is a work of fiction, any names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are purely from the imagination of the author or used for fictitious and entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real people living or dead and actual events is purely coincidental.

 

No parts of this book may be reproduced. Reviewers may quote small passages in the book for reviewing purposes.


1

 

 

She remembered applying for the job. She remembered meeting the strange man in the middle of the London streets, and she even remembered what he looked like, despite the mask that now concealed his face.

What she didn’t remember was how she had gotten here.

In her field of work, it was rare to come across malevolence. It was one of the truest art forms still alive. Her industry was full of genuine, creative performers with a rare passion for their work. The only downside was that their flair for theatrics often spilled over into their everyday personas.

But this wasn’t theatrics – something sinister was unfolding before her. She remembered sitting in a chair in the middle of his rehearsal space. Then, suddenly, she felt a small prick against the back of her neck, as he told her she would.

And then everything was gone. In her line of work, she often heard the term “a deep sleep” but such lines were never accurate. Very few people, if anyone, could cause people to fall into “a deep sleep” on command, and the participants who did succumb to such instructions were simply playing along.

But she wasn’t playing along. This was real terror.

In the confines of a gigantic wooden box, her torso had been strapped down to its base. Her arms and legs had been stretched as far as her joints could withstand. She felt as though they might tear from their sockets at any minute.

Despite her wriggling, nothing came free. Her hands, feet and head all sprouted through purposely-cut holes in her place of imprisonment.

And then her tormenter returned. He ran his hands gently over her feet. She began to jerk her body with as much force as she could muster but her tight restraints kept her glued in place.

“Do you know what comes next?” he asked.

It was an absurd question. She certainly knew what came next. In all other cases, the hands and feet sprouting outside the box would be fake, giving her the freedom to move around while maintaining a simple-but-effective illusion.

However, something told her this wouldn’t be the case now.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she burst into tears. Asking why he was doing this would be of no benefit to her. Even with the grotesque black rubber mask he wore over his head, she knew this man possessed the eyes of a psychopath.

The masked man leaned toward the center of the box. From above, he pulled down a saw blade. The woman screamed in horror.

To her surprise, the masked man removed the blade from the saw. However, her moment of relief quickly vanished when the blade he removed hit the ground. It barely made a sound. The blade was made of plastic.

The woman’s eyes widened when the masked man pulled something from below her box-coffin. It was an almost exact replica of the one he’d just removed but something was slightly different.

It was solid. It was heavy. When he placed it on top of her box, he did so with a thunderous clang.

The blade was real.

Thick, reinforced steel.