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This is just an example of free writing, which I used to help shake writer's block so I can back to work on stuff like "The Death Guard" or "Unnamed Surreal Story which is not on this site." Not sure if this story is any good or not. It's kind of weird.

My cell is cold, damp and claustrophobic. The only light seeps in through a small crack in the wall. That crack has kept me sane all these long years. That crack is how I know the world is still out there and hasn't disappeared while I've been, as Lars described, "buried alive." Lars is dead now. His skeleton sits across from me.

When I was a child, my mother always told me to look for the positive. She said in every good there is some bad and in every bad there is some good. I always hated that quote, because of the implication that there was even a little bad in the Emperor and a little good in Horus. As my teacher taught me to do, I alerted the local Arbites. I regretted it deeply. Her skeleton is buried in a shallow grave on a backwater planet.

The positive in this is that I'll finally be allowed to leave my cell. I'll finally be able to stretch my limbs and gaze towards the sun and breath in fresh air and feel something besides cold steel. Mother was right. In every bad there is some good.

A variety of vents spew hot steam as gears spin and mechanics whir. The rusted door slowly begins to open. Pure, unfiltered light seeps in. I scream and cower in the corner of my cell, unused to it. It hurts.

"Stand up," orders a commanding voice.

"Are you here to kill me?" I ask weakly. I have not spoken in some time. My throat has grown weak.

A (thankfully) deactivated power maul smacks me in the back of my head. I yelp in pain, clutching the wound. I'm hit again, this time in the ribs. Slowly, I force myself up. My vision is starting to adjust to the light now, though it still pains me.

Someone yanks on my arms and handcuffs them together as tightly as he can. Writhing within my cuffs only makes it hurt worse. My hands aren't getting any blood. He grabs my long, unkept hair and wrenches me out of the cell and leads me down a blindingly bright hallway.

As my vision improves, I begin to make out the figure. It's an Arbite, like the one who killed mother. He's wearing grey carapace armor which is essentially a variety of interlocking plates that offers flexibility and protection. It's bug like appearance is the source of its name. In his right hand is a bloodstained power maul with it's power set on 0%. I wonder if that's what he's going to kill me with. In his left is my hair, which he is yanking on. His steel boots clank with each step as we near the end of the hallway.

"My only crime was-"

He switches the power maul to 15% power. I try to rear back, but he pulls me closer and savagely strikes me in the jaw. Burnt skin peels back from the wound. Teeth break. A score of bloody wounds washes the fragments of enamel down my throat. Groaning in pain, I fall to my knees. He yanks on my hair and I stand up again.

The Arbite reaches the end of the hallway and opens a wooden door and walks through it, pulling me with him. Suddenly I'm outside. I'm outside. It's a horrifying concept. There's no ceiling or walls. I looked around, terrified, and see something that worsens my mood; a trench overflowing with corpses. There are women and children even. The only trait they have in common is a small hole in their forehead.

"NO! NO! GET BACK!" I shout, kicking him in the knee.

I've forgotten about his armor. It hurts my foot more than anything else. He growls and prods me in the chest with the maul. My shirt catches on fire. Screaming, I try to run. He pulls me back and hits me again and again.

I fall to me knees, too weak to fight. He smirks and kicks me squarely in the chest. Tumbling backwards, I land on something soft and... wet? I look down and see a fat man missing an arm with the signature forehead bullet hole. I'm in the trench of corpses. And he's reaching into a holster and retrieving his las pistol.

"Feth you," is all that I manage to say.

Nice story