This was the very original Tale of Terror with Trell:
It was the end of a very long day for Ralph Wiernok, a long day in a week of long days. Thank God it was Friday he might have to come in tomorrow but tonight was his. His boss had been on his case ever since he had come down mid-morning to check status on the refit. But let’s let Ralph tell his own story…
Power really goes to some peoples’ heads, I’ve worked with George Burnsby for over ten years and we’ve always made a great team. But ever since George was promoted to supervisor two months ago shortly after the takeover by TollVerner Industries he has become the biggest pain in my ass. The last couple weeks he has been telling me what to do next but only giving me details for the next piece of the project. Treating me like a complete newbie, never mind that I had helped him write the complete procedures manual last year. But TollVerner was changing everything in the plant, refitting machines, changing processes it was crazy, hectic, and more stressful than ever. It’s so unlike George to treat me this way, either something’s wrong at home or there’s something he’s not allowed to tell me.
Beeeep! “There’s the quittin’ bell, I hope he’s in a better mood tomorrow, for now I’m outta here.”
Ralph badges out and heads for the parking lot through the main atrium, looking up he sees several of the new TollVerner executives looking down from the third floor balcony. In fact it seemed like they were looking directly at him.
“Odd he thought, I’ve not even been introduced to the new execs, must be George’s doing. Screw it, I’m gonna stop for pizza and beer to bring home. He hit the speed dial on his cell for Scarberros. He recognized the voice right away, “Hey Joe make me a No. 38 special with the works.” “Even the chourricos and anchovies?” “Yeah, what the hell give me all of it.” “Okay, your number 47.” The order was ready when he arrived, it always was; the distance from the plant to Scarberro’s was just right and he lived right around the corner, to top it off there was a package store inside the same building.
After arriving home with his pizza and beer he set it down on the table next to the recliner and plopped down into the seat. Setting the recliner back to put his feet up, he clicked on the TV to a Syfy channel movie already in progress. Getting to business he popped open a beer and started eating his pizza, Scarberro’s No. 38 was the greatest pizza goin, but he would probably need some TUMs in the morning. But for right now it was just what the doctor ordered. He had polished off the whole pizza and was working on his fifth beer when he felt a little drowsy and decided to put his head back and close his eyes for just a minute or so.
I jumped awake immediately to an alarm and buzzing at my side, it was my phone. “Hello”. “Hi Ralph, it’s George. I know things have been really tough between us lately and I’d like to talk with you, but not on the phone. Could you meet me at Jonesies Pub in 15 minutes, I’ll be in the back and I’ll explain everything.” “Yeah, sure.” Finally, I’m gonna get some answers to all this craziness.
Getting out of the recliner, he clicked off the TV and saw the clock in the kitchen, it was 10:47, so he’d been asleep for about 3 hours, no wonder he had a crick in his neck. Grabbing a couple of Tums and chomping them down he put on his coat and headed out the door. He had just locked the door and was turning to head for his car when something slammed him in the side of the head and everything went black.
As I came around in the dank strange dimness, I heard a scream and realized it was me. My arms were crying out in agony feeling like they were being torn from my shoulders. Some kind of binding was cutting into my wrists and my head was pounding. I kicked my feet but was unable to gain purchase on anything solid and I began to sway. I looked up and a small hole in the wall let in just enough light that I could see that my hands were tied together and covered in blood, the binding looped over a hook on the end of a chain suspended from higher up, I could not see the end of it. As I looked down I saw small flames in a circle below me. To my horror I realized I was hanging some 40 feet above a pit, many torches surrounding it reflected on the surface and showed that it contained some kind of liquid. It looked thick and somehow the surface was moving slowly or there was something in it that was moving. It must be the source of the foul stench that was beginning to attack my nostrils.
I heard a noise to my left and now that my eyes had adjusted to the dimness I realized I was not alone. There hanging about 6 feet away was George strung up like myself, blood running down his arms and the side of his face, staining his light blue shirt. As I looked around I saw what appeared to be three others in the same tortured shape as us. We were all arranged in some kind of circle. I could see some small movement in the others as they began to struggle and I could hear their moans of anguish.
As the others started to come awake and struggle with their bindings the whole structure we were hanging from began to shudder and vibrate. Then there was a jolt, and a loud grumbling noise as I realized that we were slowly being lowered towards the pit. George was awake now and I heard him yell over the noise, “I’m sorry Ralph, they made me do it, they said we had to keep it all secret or they’d kill our families while we watched and then torture us until we begged for death.” I was about to yell back to him, “What the hell are you talking about?” but before I could get a word out we suddenly dropped fifteen feet and came to a sudden stop, I could feel the heat from the torches, the soot from the torches and the stench coming from the pit was now revolting and I puked on impulse, I think we all did. Suddenly the pit was completely engulfed in flames, the heat, the smoke, and the stench filling the air making it near impossible to breathe, I was gagging, coughing, and writhing against my bindings. I hear a loud crack and felt my stomach surge again as we were suddenly free falling into the fiery pit below us.
I hit the surface hard but it was not liquid and the flames were gone. My head swam for a moment when I realized I was on the floor of my apartment, lying in a puddle of puke. Great I thought a really bad beer induced dream. But then I smelled it, more powerful than the smell of the vomit, the oily smell of torches, and something burned. As I looked at my hands, they were covered in dried and caked blood, some kind of soot across the palms, and the ends of my sleeves were scorched and burnt. The bottoms of my trousers were also burnt and hanging shreds there was no hair on my exposed legs, and my boots were charred, the soles melted. I tried to scream but it came out as a hoarse whisper, my throat dry and my lips cracking, I felt whoozy and again I was falling.
This time when I came around I was strapped in a chair in the center of a large circular room, there was a catwalk above me and all the TollVerner executives were watching with great interest. I knew I was back at the plant as I recognized this room as the interior of condensation vat 47, we had completed the initial construction a month earlier.
The machinery had all died down, and now I could hear the execs talking, “…refit completed. The subject was never aware at any time what was real and what wasn’t. He probably still thinks he is an employee and that he left for home at the quitting bell. You can call headquarters and tell them we are ready to proceed to the next level…”
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