The first thing Edward truly registered upon awakening was the jingling noise. Before stirring completely, his mind did record the swirling darkness before him. It crossed his mind briefly how it was unlike any other darkness he had ever seen before. How this darkness twisted and turned, how it was like murky clay being sculpted into unnamable horrors by some unseen hand. However, this thought only began to scratch across the back of his mind before it faded away into the gloom itself. Edward only sensed it the way a person would sense the last image seen in a dream before they awoke.

But then a faint noise sounded in Edward’s ears. An eerie, musical noise. As the thought process returned to his brain, the sound grew. Edward was soon able to realize that whatever was making that musical, jingly noise was all around him. He then felt something wet and sticky rolling down his face. Then he felt the wet, sticky liquid run into his mouth as well. For a few moments he tasted nothing. Then a bitter sensation flared up on his taste buds. It was at that moment Edward remembered that he had eyes.

He slowly opened them and tilted his head from side to side. The first thing he noticed was the source of the jingling. Thousands upon thousands of chains swarmed around him. As he looked closer, he saw that each one had a small hook at the end. And each hook was deeply embedded in his bare naked flesh. As his eyes began to pick up color once more he realized that the wet sticky liquid was dark red, and the swirling darkness faded into a tone of pale blue.

The faint ghosts of pain once again flared up in Edward’s wounds. He remembered the oldest and most primitive emotion of humankind. And fear caused his vocal cords to jump-start once more and let out a sound. The sound was one that humankind has used throughout the ages to help dim the feelings of horror within them. Like an overflowing kettle a shriek of utter terror poured of Edward’s mouth.

Yet, screaming rarely does much good to neutralize it. Humans then use their minds to rationalize what’s going on around in order to cope with it. It’s no surprise that the next part of Edward that returned was his ability to think coherently.

“My god! My god! How did I get here? What’s happened? Where the hell am I?” babbled on Edward. They may not have been the most articulate thoughts in the world, but at least he was no longer brain dead.

“Isn’t it funny how the questions we ask usually have the answers locked away within them?” said an elegant voice. Edward lashed his face around madly attempting to see where his captor was. He eventually saw him, but his body was too obscured by the blue darkness for Edward to make out what he looked like.

However, when Edward narrowed his eyelids, he was able to make the outline of a face. It appeared to be that of a human man. Although for some reason, this man’s face seemed to be drained of all color, leaving it nearly bone-white. Maybe it was just the lighting that caused this effect. But Edward strongly doubted that.

“Yes,” continued the voice. The answer to your question ‘where the Hell am I’ was there right in your sentence.”

Son. The word triggered another memory in his mind; the memory of his father.

Edward had only wanted to help his father. He loved him dearly and wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything ever happened to him. Edward’s father had always been a heavy drinker, but today the young boy thought that his father must have more alcohol in him than the great lakes have water. In school, Edward had been learning about alcohol poisoning, and became terrified. If what his teachers said were true, his father would be as good as dead in a few weeks.

That night at dinner, as Edward inserted leftover micro waved sausage into his small jaw, he saw his father life the bottle to longing lips. His mouth caressed the glass container as if it was a weary traveler returning to his or her lover after years apart. Edward saw his petrified eyes reflected in the red liquid. He had never before realized how similar wine looked to blood.

“Daddy…?” murmured Edward, shrinking deep into his chair.

“What do you want, boy?”.

Edward murmured for a little while. He now regretted saying anything at all. His father was always irritable after consuming his drinks; it was usually best just to hide under his bed and hope that he wasn’t called down. He’d rarely dare to say anything to his father when he was drinking, let alone tell him…

“Speak the hell up!” screamed Edward’s father as he smashed down his drink. The table shook and red wine splattered onto the white tablecloth. Edward turned his eyes away from his father’s hateful stare to gaze upon the splatters. Yes, they really did look like blood.

“Daddy…they were telling us some things in school today. And I…well…”

“Stop wasting my damn time! Get to the point before I take the belt to you!”

“Daddy…I don’t think it’s good for you to be drinking so much wine.”

Edward’s father’s face turned redder than the wine. He lept up from his seat and bashed both of his hands down hard on the table.

“Do you work to pay for this food?” He bellowed. “I spend my days and nights slaving away for you! Every cent I get goes towards you and your greedy gut! You eat like a pig, and I’m not allowed a little pleasure here and there?”

With each word his father bashed his fist upon the table like a sledgehammer. The alcohol stained mugs shook and toppled over; Edward’s plate was gradually being jogged over the table. Edward attempted to make an attempt to stop it from falling, but his father slapped the dish out of his hand. It shattered onto the floor into pieces smaller than his father’s heart.

“You little bastard! So you’re greedy gut is more important to you than your father’s wisdom is it? Well now you’ve cost me one of your mother’s dishes! This was one of her favorites!”

A second blow hit Edward across the face, and he fell to the ground.

Edward’s father raised his hands again and the terrified boy shielded his eyes expecting another blow. But none came. He then heard sobs. His father had buried his face in his hands weeping.

“You little shit, why did you have to take her from me? Do you know what it’s like to love a woman for years and then watch her die in childbirth? Look at me! I have this shitty job to feed the person who murdered my wife! Your mother and I never wanted a kid, we had plans! But that stupid religion of hers wouldn’t let us abort you! You shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be in this damn hovel and your mother shouldn’t be in a grave!”

Ever since he was a young child, Edward had spent his entire life searching for the love of his father. He wanted to discover how he could transform hatred into love. That search had something to do with why he was here, he knew it. Before he could dig deeper into his mind, the figure began to move closer. Edward was able to distinguish more of the figure’s body. It wore priestly robe, made out of some kind of dark leather. Edward could also make out the gleam of hooks or blades of some kind, which appeared to be part of the figure’s clothing. As for the figure’s physical structure, he appeared to be short and chubby. The figure continued speaking.

“Funny isn’t it?” the figure continued. “Sentences…language…the way we piece words together. The letters are grouped to form words, which we link together to form sentences. And from there, limitless creation can take place. Your sentence wasn’t very special; all language is a puzzle that we must solve.”

Puzzle. Yes, puzzles. That’s part of why he was here. His father, he’d solved a puzzle hadn’t he?

“Daddy, I’m really hungry,” whispered Edward to his father. Normally, he wouldn’t dare implore such a thing, but now he was desperate. He hadn’t eaten a scrap of food since lunch yesterday, and even then it was only a crust of bread. He decided that he would risk his father’s wrath in the faint hope that his father would show him an ounce of kindness.

At his desk, Edward’s father stood turned away from him. Edward heard the clinking of the puzzle box that his father had been working on for the past two weeks. His eyes traveled across the floor, drinking in the scrap papers filled with drawings and equations, all attempting to figure out just what finally cause the configuration to open.

“Are there any more bread?” came his father’s cold reply.

Edward didn’t reply. There were roughly a handful remaining, but more bread was the last thing he wanted. He’d been eating it so often lately; it made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Yes Daddy…”

“Then get out of here! Can’t you seen I’m busy?” his father then lifted a book on Japanese puzzles off his shelf and chucked it through the air towards his son. The young boy squealed like a pig and leapt out of the way. As he went out he heard his father mumble that whatever he was working on might return someone he loved to him. Edward shrugged and dismissed the thought.

Edward made his way across the unwashed kitchen floor. His socks stuck to grime and made a sickening ripping noise each time he raised his foot. Edward dusted some ants off his seat and started to crunch the stale bread. He glanced over at the clock on the food stained-microwave. It was 5:30; his father should have been at work fifteen minutes ago.

Ever since his dad got that puzzle box, it seemed he’d completely forgotten about the rest of the world. He was always late for work; he never cooked or cleaned the house. He even stopped beating Edward as regularly. This unnerved him the most; he wished his father would hit him again, just so he’d know that he remembered him.

Edward started his “meal” when he heard a shriek shatter the air like glass. The voice was so packed with terror that it was scarcely human. If it hadn’t come from the direction of his father’s desk, it wouldn’t have even occurred to Edward that the voice belonged to him.

Edward raced down the hall and began to open the door to his father’s study. As the room was revealed, Edward saw something strange and petrifying. The room was completely filled by an eerie blue light. Within the radiance stood the faint outlines of four figures. The first figure laid before the other three. His silhouette was short and chubby, just like Edwards’ father was. He lay on the floor surrounded by chains, screaming his head off. Edward couldn’t make out what the chains were doing, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. The other three stood robotically in an orderly line. They were humanoid, but something was wrong with their bodies. What exactly that was, Edward couldn’t tell. Maybe if he had another moment or two he would have been able to view more detail, but by the time he had finished opening the door the light and the figures were gone. Edward’s father was also nowhere to be found. All that was left was his father’s office, just as it had been when he left it. Except for one detail. In the center of the floor, the puzzle box sat, tilted invitingly towards Edward.

The box! Edward remembered! Ever since his father had disappeared, Edward had spent every waking moment digging through his notes and reconfiguring the box’s various pieces. He only wanted his father’s love, maybe if he found out what happened to him he could rescue him. And after rescuing him, his father would finally open his heart towards the boy.

The figure continued to advance until it stood face to face with Edward. The first thing that Edward noticed wasn’t how the creature’s heart wasn’t surgically exposed and held open by hooks. Nor was it how the figure had various knives inserted into every inch of his body, excluding its heart and his head. What he noticed was the creature’s face; it’s all too familiar face.

“Daddy…” whimpered Edward as his tears mixed with his blood.

His father just gave Edward a distorted grin; all his teeth were all replaced with small hooks.

“The box is a puzzle as well.,” continued Edward’s father. “Upon solving it, you are promised unimaginable pleasure, but you receive unimaginable pain. However, every now and then the box finds someone special. Someone to act as one of its agents against the flesh.”

Edward shook, screaming and begging his father for mercy. It was as if he was a pig, thrashing about as the butcher came in for the kill.

“Son, I’m so glad you managed to solve the puzzle. I’ve been neglecting you of late haven’t I? Well, now it’s time for some real father-son quality time!”

Edward’s father approached his son, opening his mouth wide. Before sinking his hooks into Edward’s soft, pink flesh he murmured, “Come to daddy...” Then he began to drink in his son’s blood as if it was a lovely red wine.

THE END