“It’s okay,” a voice echoes, “you can come out now.”
My eyes have adjusted to the dark and all I see is a white oval. “Why don’t you come in?” I ask.
“I’m not sure it’s safe. You really should get out of there.” The voice bounces off the cave walls, words hitting me in syllables.
A shape emerges in the whiteness. I think it might be one of them. “Okay,” my fingers wrap around a knife and I begin crawling. “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” I creep, hands and knees, toward the thing in the light. “They might find out where I am.”
“I won’t tell,” the thing says. And then I know.
I know what it is and what I must do. Pebbles press into my knees, bruise my shins, but I stay low. “I’m almost out,” I say.
It reaches inside, “Good.”
“Could you just…” I stop, sitting back on my heels, and aim. “Help me the rest of the way?”
“You can do it,” it laughs. “A few more steps.”
I adjust my aim. “Help me?” I repeat.
It shuffles its feet, moving to the left a few inches. I see it clearly for the first time and my stomach turns. I never get used to the sight of them. I pull my arm back, prepare to stab it, when a noise from behind startles me. I gasp and lose my balance. “Dammit!” I turn to see a rat. Just a rat, I think. But it is too late. The thing that waited outside has its hand on my ankle. I twist from its slimy grip but it drags me out into the sun, and into the arms of another I hadn’t seen. Others approach. I can’t escape them all. I know where they will take me and what they will do. I will not become one of them.
“We got her,” the first one says into a small box attached to its head with wires.
I examine the knife I carved. My art, my weapon, my savior. “You don’t,” I plunge the knife into my throat.
My attempt at #writephoto, a weekly writing prompt for poetry/flash/short stories hosted by Sue Vincent
Love it! Though now I do wish I’d waited until tomorrow morning to read this.
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Um… Sorry? (I’m really not. I’m wicked pleased.) Thank you. π Hope you slept well.
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I did not, thank you very much. π
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You’re fucking amazing! Ha! Sorry for the cursing…but you made me. π #mast π
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No fucking problem, my friend. I did make you swear. I take full responsibility. π #mast π
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ππ
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Oh that one was a surprise, Sarah!
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It was a surprise for me, too! Didn’t quite know where that one was going.
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They are often the most satisfying to write π
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They are. β€οΈπ (Most of mine are like that, anyway… Pantser.)
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Now that’s a scary piece. While it is written in the physical world, the situation seems very similar to many of the online and email scams that are going around these days trying to lure us into their traps. I hope your carved knife is your saviour. Gorily done!
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Gorily done! Love that. π Yes, this one’s a bit gory at the end there. Being trapped, being lured…definitely scary. The carved knife will be her savior, one way or another.
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I like how you built up to the conclusion leaving the main character little choice.
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Thank you kindly. It seems she had few choices there… None of them good.
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gruesome; well done
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Thanks! π
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Oh wow – such a twist at the end, Sarah! Your stories always keep me reading!
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Thank you! It was a twist for me, too. Didn’t expect that.
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This brilliant and the ending is excellent!
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Thanks, Willow!
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ππ
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Yikes. A dark one, Sarah. Great take on the prompt!
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This one is dark. Well…most of my flash is dark but this one’s a bit more…gory than I usually write. But it’s short-lived. Har.
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That’s what I like about flash pieces. They don’t have to go anywhere so there’s a lot of freedom to stretch those writing muscles. π
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Yikes! Nice work as always, Sarah x
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Two ‘yikes’ in a row. Fair enough. π I’ll take it. Thanks, Helen.
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Well meant ‘yikes’, definitely! π
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