Prisoner – end

An ordinary soldier, Craig is left here with his anxieties. The enemy is behaving odd. Seated surrounding him. Controlled, freakily for hours holding itself back. Then letting go its hatred on a loathed enemy. Beating him within an inch of his life.
His world was turned upside-down. Everything about him as a man in peril.

The story abandons him here.
Left to his own devices. Thrown back on his own defences.
How will a poor grunt face up ?

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Prisoner – 7


A tremble passed down his spine.  Fear.  A wonder he wasn’t pissing himself.  After the way they had gone for him  …  that was no wonder.  Nothing to marvel at.  He wasn’t made for this.  Not some elite warrior.  Just some ordinary grunt who had joined up because at home there was nothing else.  No work.  No hope.

A grunt’s world has turned upside-down

Prisoner – 5


Sat there gawking.  Gawping at him.  In unnerving silence.  All around him, on all sides.  Watching him suffer.  Leering at him mounted on this agony in his god-damned balls.  In indifference.  With cold-hearted disinterest.  But no, the suckers did care.  They cared his face kept twisting as the grinding aches became too much to bear.  They cared about every pained twitch in his cripple body.  Revelled in any sign that the pain was getting too much for him.

Wishing they’d get on with it, terrified when they do

Prisoner – 4


All afternoon they’d been turning up.  Jumping off the flat-back of beaten-up trucks to join the gathering.  Easing themselves into the menacing silence, seated cross-legged, watching.  An unnerving silence as keenly they observed him suffering.  Hands forcibly placed on top of his head at risk of further beatings.  Sitting astride a pole that was driving agonies into his balls.  Fuelling pains in his guts that were meant to crush his spirit to resist.  Must have been more than a dozen trucks parked-up by now.

Time and torture can wear even the best man down

Prisoner – 3


At first sweat had broken out on his forehead.  Pricking at the hairline.  The heat on him growing till the gathered sweat had started to trickle down his neck.  Tickling irritatingly out of his raised armpits.  Jerking with its weight down his sides.  Increasing turning viscous on his sleek chest.  Catching in his abs as it flowed.  Then the density of his nervous sweat too heavy to hold, it dribbled down over his lower belly.  Soaking up his treasure trail.  Collected matted in his pubes.

Anticipation works on the nerves

Prisoner – 2



When had common-sense kicked in?  He was having the fuck kicked out of him.  They were beating the hell out of him.  He could barely see for the veil of pain.  He was dangerously weakening.  Hardly able to get to his feet.  Reeling from all those blows.  Craig had to admit he was no all-time super-hero.  Just some half-assed college jock.  Left school with no prospects, not in the god-forsaken town where he’d grown-up.  Jobs had all disappeared up some rich dude’s ass.  Joined up, enlisted.  Fuck-all else on-offer.

Some ordinary dude facing extraordinary facts

Prisoner – 1



Good advice.  With hindsight.  Not the mission to go get yourself captured.  The lieutenant at the briefing had made that quite clear.  Not a good idea to fall into enemy hands.  Not right now.  Not before either.  But right now the enemy was really pissed off, hopping mad.  That operation by the black ops guys had taken their bastard out.  That leader of theirs, the dude they revered. The fucker in whose name they put their lives on the line.  The guy who put up money for them to fight.  The motherfucker who sent them out to maim women and children.  In the name of their glorious cause.

Bad time to get caught