2011 Totem Head Story Contest Honorable Mention: "Sucker of Souls" By Jared.
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Sucker of Souls
Written By:   Jared.

So there I was, immobilized by fear, standing on the threshold of my doom. Before me hung sad images of previous victims. Some smiled; some laughed; some held lollipops and some small toys. Suddenly, the truth came to me--before he tortured his victims he forced them to smile, no doubt through ancient sorcery, and took their pictures.

I congratulated myself for unlocking this secret.

My mothers’ long, bony finger pressed into the small of my back like a burning cattle prod, pushing me gently forward. Upon entering the room, my mother spoke. "Have a seat Johnny; I’m going to sign you in."

I threw a glance at my mother and sucked in a deep breath. A sly grin split her face, and I gulped as she added my name to the list of prey.

The clock started ticking.

She smiled pleasantly at the lady behind the counter and then walked over to me. I heard her voice, sweet as honey, and manipulative, saying, "Johnny, I know what you’ve been told about this place…" She cupped my hand between hers, "…but as soon as you meet Doctor Payne, you’ll see. It will all be fine. He’s the finest dentist in the entire city."

My hands trembled, and I wept inwardly. I whispered goodbye to my dear brother Billy, who was back at home safe in his crib. It would only be a matter of time before he was sitting here, counting down his doom.

I thanked my friend Tom for his warnings about this place. For he’s the only one who’s been here and returned alive.

At that moment, a mischievous looking fellow opened a bright red door that led back to the torture chambers. He took a quick glance at his clipboard and then called, "Timothy Raise?"

A sinister smile creased his face. "I believe you are up next."

A trembling child slowly stood up, and as I saw his face, my anger flared.

Judging by his chubby face and innocent features, he was at least one year younger than I. What could have possessed his mother to surrender her child? Was he naughty? Was he disrespectful? Was he too ugly? Perhaps these are the reasons my mother was sacrificing me.

I stared hopelessly at the young boy and, for an instant, our eyes met.

Courage, amazing courage, was all I saw in that boy’s eyes as he strode boldly forward to the slaughter. Fiery tears silently streaked down my cheeks as I watched him stride down the perilous hallway, straight into the belly of the beast.

Suddenly, the bright red door opened again, and the same sinister fellow with the clipboard called out, "Johnny Granger," and with the same wicked smile, "It’s your time."

I gritted my teeth, knotted my fists, and narrowed my eyes. My entire life boiled down to this moment.

"Go on," my mother urged, poking my side with her cattle-prod finger.

I stood up, squared my shoulders and said, "I am here. I am ready." Inspired by the previous boy’s courage, I stepped forward.

The man’s face wrinkled with a wicked smile. His teeth were horrifyingly white. They shone so bright that I had to cover my eyes as I walked past him into the hallway. We passed numerous rooms with numbers on plaques nailed to the door. As we walked by a door labeled 13, I heard a bone rattling scream followed by utter silence.

Another child, gone.

Finally we arrived at our destination, room 66. My escort opened the door and beckoned me in. I obeyed. Sitting me down on a purple plastic chair he said, "The dentist will be here shortly. So sit still, and don’t go anywhere." He left. The iron latch that sealed my doom clanked into place behind him.

I leapt from the purple chair to study the room and explore any possible tactical advantage. To my left were the horrific tools used to rip and tear apart teeth. The shining silver tools gleamed with the delightful thought of destroying me: the Forceps of Doom, the Plugger of Suffocation and to my utter horror, the Sickle Probe of Bloodshed.

I shuddered.

The dental chair sat to my right deceptively dormant. It looked so comfortable…NO! I must remain strong! That’s exactly what the torturers want--for me to sit down and relax.

My breath came in uneasy gasps. No doubt the villains approached with a plan to break me. Ha! Never! The day I drop my guard in the dentist’s office will be the day turkeys take over the world.

The cruel shine of the Sickle Probe of Death made me banish these thoughts. How could people that were supposed to be so kind possess such vile tools of destruction? All deceit and lies.

I gasp as the door to the room opens. The Dentist Sorcerer strides into the room clad in his white and blue sorcerer’s robes. He stares hungrily at my mouth, which is full of beautifully filthy teeth, and unsheathes something reflective from his draping white sleeve.

"Alright, if I can have you sit on this chair for just a minute."

Never. No. I will not. Ever.

I try with every fiber of my being to resist his kind voice and easy-going smile. Such fine trickery. I sit down, and the dentist pulls a crank slowly reclining the top of the dentist chair. I hyperventilate.

This cannot be. This is the end.

The recline comes to a halt. I hear my torturer rummaging through the polished metal pan, searching for the right tool. Then, he is upon me with small mirror and Sickle Probe of Bloodshed in hand. An assistant that I had failed to see shoves into my mouth the Spreader of Shame.

I can no longer close my mouth.

Words are mere grunts. My torturer is free to work. Gently he says, "Now, I’m going to need you to relax for just a minute."

I will resist you. You will not prevail.

The Dentist Torturer stoops low, inserts the Sickle Probe of Bloodshed and small mirror into my mouth. I clamp my eyes shut. Burning pain streaks down from my jaw to the very tips of my toes.

He tears at my teeth. I feel his tools rip and gnaw.




He pokes, prods and scrapes for what seems a day and a half. However, the worst is yet to come.

There is a pause as the dentist removes his vile instruments from my mouth. I open my eyes to see the dentist nod slowly to his assistant who then lifts into the air the most terrible of all his wicked and tortuous devices: The Sucker of Souls.

I clamp my mouth shut.

No. You will not take my soul.

"Ummm, I’m going to need you to open your mouth for a minute," spoke his gentle voice.

I will not. You cannot make me.

"Never!" I did not mean to say it out loud. Too late. The Sucker of Souls is shoved into my open mouth.



I try to scream. All saliva is sucked away. I writhe and twist in an attempt to keep my soul from being drawn from my body.



With every drop of spit extracted from my mouth, I feel a drop of my soul leaving my body. The air around me grows dark, and the world fades away.

Like all those before me, I succumb.

Link to Free Writing Contest for Kids

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