The Sensory Thief Part 1
Part 1
He lay strapped to the gurney; the stiff leather bound his wrists so tight it had already begun to purple his hands. The room smelled of stagnant salt and something sweet, the cloying scent from trophies in jars waiting on the shelves. Above him, the thief didn't look like a monster; he looked like a meticulous accountant of the soul, his fingers stained a permanent, deep ruddy crimson.
The thief leaned over with a pair of curved shears, the victim realized with a jolt of heart-stopping terror that there would be no killing blow.
The thief's chants began with a low thrumming that seemed to vibrate the very marrow in his bones, keeping his nerves screamingly awake even as the first blade found the soft, wet corner of his lips.
'Don't worry,' the thief whispered, the shears clicking against his teeth, 'you won't even miss it.'
The thief ignored his victims frantic, muffled pleas, focusing instead on the pink, muscular slab of tongue. He clamped the tongs onto the tip, pulling it taut until the frenzied man’s jaw creaked under the strain. With a slow, deliberate sawing motion of the serrated blade, he began to sever the root. A hot geyser of thick, metallic fluid flooded the victim's throat, turning his screams into a bubbling gurgle. Across the room, the jars on the shelf began to vibrate in a horrific sympathy.
Behind the glass jars were dozens of stolen eyes that darted frantically in their brine, and a row of pale, detached ears flattened against the glass, trying to shut out the sound of the raw, wet tearing.
The thief's chants grew louder, a deep vibration that kept his victim’s mind focused on every agonizing fiber being ripped away. This was the birth of a new pet; a screaming witness trapped in a silent cage of glass. He dropped the wiggling tongue into a jar, filled with a blueish liquid, and sealed it with a locking lid and a kiss. He placed his prize among the many and made his way back to his victim, eager to harvest more. The victim's drowning screams grew louder as soon as his torturer was back.
"Now, where were we?" The sensory thief croaked with a toothy grin as he reached for another surgical tool.
To be continued.....
[Copyright © 2026 by B.R. Potter. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.]

Really gory Poe stuff here. 👍🏿