The air was thick and heavy, masking my face in tiny droplets of sweat. My throat was so dry and raspy that I couldn’t even call for help. I was chained and bound; I had no sense of time and even more so, no idea where the hell I was. Everythin...
The air was thick and heavy, masking my face in tiny droplets of sweat. My throat was so dry and raspy that I couldn’t even call for help. I was chained and bound; I had no sense of time and even more so, no idea where the hell I was. Everything felt so heavy, my arms and legs beaten down in numbness from holding up my tireless body for God knows how long. I sat in wait, wondering what would come of me. There were no windows, no light, and not a breath of fresh air that I could taste. I listened intently for something, anything. It was quiet for minutes, maybe hours even. After I came to, I was relentless in burning everything around me into my mind for later use, if there even would be a later for me. I heard what sounded like footsteps drawing their slow path across the floor above me and stopped to my north west. I glanced in that direction, beating my eyes every which way in hopes to catch a glimmer of something important. I heard a brass knob turning slowly and following, an old door inching its way open. The stench that followed was nothing short of nauseating and it made my stomach turn inside out. I squeezed my eyes as tightly as I could and opened them immediately, beaming to the top of the stairs. Sitting ever-so-calmly and staring in my direction was a stubby man hunched over like a frog. He sat at the top of the stairs emotionless and just stared. After a moment of nothingness, I squirmed angrily and screamed, “Let me go you sick fuck, what do you want- huh? Unchain me, I dare you!” There was nothing, more and more nothing until he became squeamish and smiled creepily at me. He put his legs in front of him and scooched down, step by step. When he reached the bottom step he smiled hastily and giggled.
“Mom,” he screeched, “she’s awake!”
To be continued…..
Alexandra L. Narron