Blackberry Engorgement

Crime Fiction by Carbon Bleauxmoosle

You’re finally awake said the old man as he sat readying himself for a night of unconsecrated activity. The room was damp and cold; the dim light was just bright enough for Nelson to see the filth and the rats scurrying across the cracks in the stone floor. All of Nelson’s senses were slowly coming back to him; his head was to the point of explosion. He had no account of the hours that had passed and no idea of how long he had been suspended upside down naked as the day he had come into the world. He was certain that all the blood in his body had pooled in his head causing the tension he now felt. “Where am I?” he shouted, “Who are you?” he demanded the only reply that he received from the old man was “You are almost ready, thirty no forty more minutes I think.” The old man continued with his preparations paying no heed to plead that Nelson kept making for help and mercy on his soul. Nelson hung here with his mind racing watching the old man at his table. Nelson was unsure of the day or hours that had passed. With nary a word the old man rose from the table and walked to the hearth of the fireplace.

The old man picked up what Nelson thought was a lump of coal to stoke the flames in the dying fire. When the object hit the flames, he knew that it was not. Flames erupted from the fireplace as if the bowels of hades had opened into the room, Nelson began to sweat from the intense heat, and his skin felt scorched like a long day in the hot summer’s sun. The old man stood amidst the blaze grinning like a child, Nelson could now clearly see that he was in a dungeon or some type of torturer’s chamber. Nelson could see the blood stains on the floor, bits of broken fingernail and teeth, as well as hair that had been yanked out by the root. Nelson watched the old man as he approached the chains that held him afloat.

In one fluid motion the old man pulled the chain, and Nelson’s legs spread eagle, the force so great the muscles in his calves and thighs twinge in pain. Nelson’s rectum tightened from the terror of what was transpiring. The old man began to speak in a low raspy tone as he pointed at the table where he had sat earlier. “Pick a number 1…2…3 the magic one shall set you free, the wrong one makes you bleed, upon your flesh the beasts shall feed.” Nelson looked toward the table and could see three black boxes of varying size with the numbers 1, 2, and 3 hanging in front of them. “I will not choose,” cried Nelson. The old man retrieved a pair of rusty forceps from deep within his coat pocket. Slowly he used them to remove the nail from Nelson’s smallest toe, pulling it out as one piece. “I cannot choose” Cried Nelson once more. This time the old man extracted two toenails from nelson’s foot, however nelson would still not choose. The old man continued the extraction process until every last one of Nelson’s toes and fingernails had been removed. Nelson hung there gasping for breath in shock from what this man was doing to him. “Teeth are next” growled the old man, “wait” blubbered Nelson. “If I choose correctly, I can go free” Nelson asked. The old man replied with only this “Pick a number 1…2…3 the magic one shall set you free, the wrong one makes you bleed, upon your flesh the beasts shall feed.” Nelson closed his eyes tightly and spoke “the large box, I choose number three.”

The old man began shaking his head “I’m sorry the magic number is one, however you are very lucky. Your selection is a personal favorite of mine Blackberry Engorgement.” Nelson’s pulse quickened and his mind began to race; I can make it through this he thought. That box can’t hold more than a few hundred blackberries at most.

The old man slowly made his way over to the box and lifted it from the table. Much to Nelson’s surprise it was not a bowl of blackberries that he reviled or even a single giant blackberry for that matter. Under the box was an oversized mortar and pestle. The mortar was crafted out of black lava stone it was about the size of a gallon bucket. The pestle was fashioned out of the same black stone, roughly the size of a child’s baseball bat; with a grooved handle to secure a grip. There was one other item accompanying the set, it was a six-inch-long piece of dried blackberry briar, with the most mangled and knurled thorns on it that one had ever seen. Attached to the piece of briar was a tag that read “5FT X 1000.”

Seeing these things placed before him it made Nelson shout out “what are those for what do you plan on doing to me?” This pleased the old man very much to hear Nelson begging for an explanation. The old man cleared his throat and began to speak, explaining that the tag on the hideous briar meant that he would be using one thousand five-foot briar pieces in this labor of atonement. Next, he explained the process to Nelson the old man spared no detail in how Nelson would be spending their time together.

The explanation of what was going to transpire was almost too much for Nelson to bear. In an attempt to spare himself this agony he tried to chew off and swallow his own tongue unsuccessfully. The old man had seen this before and was prepared and he quickly administered a tranquilizer to sedate Nelson before he had a chance to sever the linguae artery in his tongue and bleed to death.

While unconscious the old man removed all of Nelson’s teeth, with a hammer and a chisel that he had heated in the fireplace. By doing this the chisel cauterized the gums as the teeth were chiseled out of Nelson’s mouth. Once the old man was finished, he removed a second syringe from his coat pocket. Injecting Nelson for a second time, this injection was even faster than the tranquilizer had worked. Nelson was awake instantly feeling alive and completely aware of everything around him; his senses were now operating at maximum performance.

The old man threw another lump in the fire and the blaze felt hotter than anything Nelson had ever experienced, and the light coming off it was so bright to him that he had to squint his eyes. The sensations that Nelson was feeling from the injection exhilarated him, he could feel every drop of sweat as it formed on his body. He could hear the sounds of the rats in the corner of the room, as if they were elephants stumbling through. Nelson was so immersed in this euphoric state of heightened awareness that he lost all thought of where he was and that the old man was even there.

The old man removed the boxes from the table and now covered it with several bundles of blackberry briars, and oddly shaped funnel, and two vials of powder. One vial was labeled coagulant, the other labeled antibiotics. The old man emptied both vials into the mortar filling it one fourth of the way up, he then selected one briar and began to grid it up into the powders with the pestle. Once finished the mortar was now halfway full. The old man lay the pestle on the table and picked up the funnel. He spat on the narrow end of the funnel which was about the size of a mop handle in diameter. The old man used his other hand to thoroughly coat the tip in his saliva. Once the funnel was coated the old man dipped it into the mixture of ground up blackberry briars antibiotics and coagulant powder.

Now in a frenzied dash the old man leapt up with great speed and thrust the funnel deep into Nelson’s rectum. The blunt force of this action combined with the searing pain of the funnel being forced inside him snapped Nelson back to the reality of where he was.

The pain radiated from Nelson’s Rectum sending waves throughout his entire body crashing against his brain. The pain was in such an intense form due to his over heightened senses Nelson was certain that he would pass out. If not for the injection that the old man had given him, he may have done just that. The old man reveled in the agony that was on display in front of him. As nelson squirmed and writhed in pain, the old man closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of his chains rattling.

The powders mixed with the crushed blackberry briar worked in a three-phase process. The first was to cause as much pain and discomfort as possible, the second was to make Nelson’s blood congeal so he wouldn’t bleed to death, and the third was to stave off any infection and keep it from killing him before the old man could finish his cleansing process.

The old man was very excited he had not gotten to practice the ritual of Blackberry Engorgement on anyone in more than a decade’s time. He was beginning to feel things thought long forgotten to his body. As the old man picked up the pestle once more, he could feel the blood in his body flowing into his groin. The old man reared back and took a giant swing with the pestle hammering the funnel deeper into Nelson’s anus, the old man took a second swing driving the funnel deeper still topping it off by throwing a handful of the mixture from the mortar onto Nelson’s buttocks and groin.

The old man returned the pestle to its place on the table and picked up the mortar, pouring half of its contents down the funnel into Nelson’s bowels. He placed the mortar and the remaining mixture back on the table. The old man retrieved a ladder and placed it behind Nelson. He climbed enough of the rungs to reach Nelson’s buttock and abdomen comfortably. The old man massaged Nelson’s buttocks and taint trying to ease the mixture of powder and thorns deeper into his colon. Nelson groaned in agony as the old man began to compress his abdomen, Nelson could feel the briar thorns beginning to shred the lining of his intestines.

Nelson could feel every briar’s point, hundreds of them piercing and scraping every part of his internal organs that they came in contact with. The old man climbed several more rungs on the ladder until he was standing directly above Nelson’s suspended body. The old man unzipped his pants and slowly removed his phallus; he began to urinate disgusting yellow brown urine directly into Nelson’s anus. The stench from the urine was so repulsive that Nelson vomited uncontrollably. Once the old man had finished relieving himself, he descended the ladder and continued Nelson’s massage for several more minutes.

Once the old man was satisfied, he continued his decent from the ladder and returned to the table where he retrieved a pair of heavy leather gloves, his pestle, and two stalks of the briar. The old man slid the gloves on to his hands and pulled the straps tightly securing them, placed the pestle in the sheath on his belt and the two stalks of briar into a quiver like arrows for a bow, and ascended the ladder once more with his tools.

Once back atop his perch the old man methodically unscrewed the funnel from Nelson’s rectum and let it fall to the floor. The old man inspected Nelson to make sure his concoction was doing its job; it was working as expected. Nelson prayed to himself for mercy that he would have a heart attack or choke to death on his vomit, anything to stop this punishment that he was being forced to endure. Nelson searched his mind trying to find a reason for this injustice to be happening to him, but he found none.

The old man unsheathed the pestle and began to grind the two briar stalks into Nelson’s anus. The old man held the pestle with his right hand, while he used his left to feed the briars gradually and continually into the pestle as it crushed them into Nelson’s suffering body inch by inch. The pain that Nelson was experiencing was nothing like anything that he could have ever imagined in his wildest dreams. The longer the old man worked the more the pain intensified. Nelson hoped that he would finally black out from shock, but the injection kept him conscious still. As tears trickled down Nelson’s cheeks, he started to lose all hope and all faith in all that he believed.

Twenty-two minutes it took the old man to grind up the stalks of blackberry briar. “I’m a bit out of practice,” said the old man. He descended the ladder once again and took a seat next to the table watching Nelson with a great look of content on his face. The old man removed his gloves and shuffled through his coat pocket until he found his pipe, taking it out to light. He took a few puffs blowing smoke back out of through his nostrils “no worries, Nelson plenty of time to get back to form, plenty of time.” 

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Bio: Carbon Bleauxmoosle attended Morehead State University and studied digital media and creative writing. A former member of the Morehead State University Inscape magazine review board as well as co found of the MSU writers guild. Also, a retired independent professional wrestler  who wrestled under the persona J.R. Roc a wild  kilt wearing mountain man  who beat his opponents with a 12 foot leather strap. 

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