You wake up shackled to a chair and can’t remember how you got there. Two voices are talking. You recognize one of them.

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2 thoughts on “Kidnapped

  1. Ratboy111

    Ralph woke up shackled to a chair in chains, blindfolded, and gagged with duct tape. He couldn’t remember how he got there. The last thing he remembered was a masked man attacking his girlfriend, Lily, and a cloth held tightly over his mouth. Suddenly, he heard two voices arguing. He recognized one of the voices as his ex girlfriend, Monica’s. His captors’ footsteps came closer. He felt the tape come off of his eyes and got a glimpse of his captors. One was a muscular hulk and the other had a supermodel shape. The female captor ripped the tape off of Ralph’s mouth. “What’s going on? Where’s Lily at Monica?” Ralph asked her. Monica slapped him viciously in the face. “Ralph, if you ever want to see your pathetic excuse for a girlfriend ever again, you must rescue my sister from her psychotic boyfriend in the city.” Monica proposed. “Okay, I’ll do it but only if you don’t harm Lily.” Ralph told her. Her partner unlocked Ralph’s shackles

  2. kathleenmagner

    A persistent gush reached Dale first. The smack of the stream against porcelain blended with the drone between his ears, the din centering at the base of his skull. He tried to rub the source, to soothe the bray, but something pinned his right arm. When he attempted with the left, he felt a similar roadblock.

    Squinting through lids crusted from sleep or, he suspected dried tears, he discovered light from beneath a doorway. The faint glow illuminated checkered bathroom tiles, the encircling duct tape trapping his wrists to the arms of Jane’s living room chair, and his chest bared from a now vanished tee shirt. He lifted his drooped head cautiously, noting the pasty flesh of his legs emerging from his plaid boxers, jeans nowhere in sight, and the waterfall jetting from the sink’s faucet.

    “What the hell?”

    A set of familiar toothbrushes, pump bottle of cucumber-melon soap, doused lavender candle, deodorants, his razor, and row of vitamin bottles lining the basin looked at him and replied to his mumble with innocent naiveté.

    Glaring at them all Dale tried to stand but again duct tape, this time at his ankles, kept him seated. The chair legs thumped on the mossy bathmat and, when he rocked back, crinkled the matching shower curtain.


    The faucet’s spewing muffled his bellow as well as the shuffling steps beyond the door where the sea-green towel from his morning shower dangled on a silver rack beside Jane’s. Murmurs permeated the wall, echoing from where he remembered a corridor stretched to the front door, past Jane’s bedroom, her tiny living room, and cramped kitchen. The footsteps neared and then stopped on the other side of the door where a round of muted talking continued. After a stomp, of a foot Dale imagined, one pair of strides faded into the distance. He cleared the lump in his throat and tried again.


    The door cracked open, the hallway light shading a round face.


    “Shhhh.” She held a finger to her lips and slipped through. Crouching like a frightened mouse, she left the door ajar, allowing the slide of drawers and cupboards out in the other rooms to rebound upon the tiles, porcelain, and mirror.

    Dale tipped forward as much as the tape allowed. “What’s going on?”

    Jane waved him quiet. “You have to hush okay?”

    “I’m taped to a chair.”

    “I know, I’m sorry. It’s Wendy and Vince.”

    “What’s your sister got to do with this? No, first help me out.” Dale wobbled in the chair but Jane grabbed hold of the legs and kept him still.

    “They want the ticket.”


    The earlier part of the evening crashed into his mind as he imagined the baseball bat Jane kept in her front closet had bashed into his skull.

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