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Original Writing - Prose: It's dark, indescribably dark, usually there's moonlight, artificial light, starlight, something

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Trapped in the Darkness It's dark, indescribably dark. Usually there's moonlight, artificial light, starlight, something, but not here; there's nothing. I try to move, but I am restrained. I listen, but I hear nothing. I smell but I smell only something clinical. If it wasn't for my heart pounding and my lungs racing to catch up, I might imagine I am dreaming, but I'm not. I'm not! I fearfully reach out with my right hand and, afraid of what I might find, I try to resist the temptation to clench my fist. With each centimetre I stretch comes a new level of terror. I reach further and further, shivering in anticipation of what I might find. Shivering allows me to feel the clothes I'm wearing and bringing with it the frightening realisation that I'm not wearing the jeans and shirt I was last night. I'm dressed in something quite different. I bring my hand back, from its outward reach, to touch my waist: it feels like a jacket. I slide it up to my neck. I feel fabric: it's a bowtie. I'm in a suit. I rarely wear suits. Reluctantly I force my hand to resume its search for a clue to where I am. It's an unspeakable dread, not to know what I might find. ...read more.


I quickly did the same, not wanting him to know that I had reservations about doing it. My friend looked remarkably relaxed about the whole thing and said: "It'll take about twenty minutes to half an hour to kick in". Oh My God! What did I do last night! I push up with my left leg but it's obstructed. In desperation I drive up with both hands, but the barrier doesn't budge. I panic. I feel myself panting and gasping for air. I feel my breath rebounding off the surface above my head, condensing and dripping down onto my face. The indignity forces me to raise my head and upper body in an attempt to wake from this nightmare, but nothing comes of my efforts and I'm no closer to discovering where I am. I can remember going outside last night. I was taking refuge from the loud, thumping music and flashing lights that were a source of constant torture. In my delirious state I could make out two figures in the darkness; as they stood staring at me I felt chilled by their glare. They began to approach me, and the sight of them walking towards me filled me with fear, but as their features came into a blurred focus I realised that it was my Mum and Dad. ...read more.


No matter what a good "trip" is like, it can't be worth the risk of experiencing a bad one. I cannot fathom what I was thinking. I'm moving again. Rocking violently, my heartbeat rapidly quickens to a high-speed thump and my lungs begin to race my heart. I just want this trip to end. I never want to put myself through this nightmare again. There is a slight jolt and I'm stationary. Thank God! There's a low hum, like the hum of machinery, and I'm moving again, but not rocking this time. This time the movement seems quite linear, and as I begin to relax... There is a roar, like the roar of a furnace which causes my heart to quicken, my lungs to race and my mind to panic. Tiring of this torture, I just want it to end. It's hot. My God it's hot! I begin to perspire; the air thins and I gasp for oxygen. My feet blaze, and suddenly I realise that this is no nightmare; this is no illusion. I scream in agony. Aware of the inferno approaching my feet, I start to convulse, fitting in a futile effort to break free from my constraint. Flames rupture the coffin that restrains me, and the foul smell of burning flesh is masked by the inevitability of death. Tom Dickin 12.2 Writing to Entertain: Short Story: Final Draft Word Count: 1392 09/05/07 ...read more.

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