"Hello? Is anyone here?" I call, nescient to my surroundings. I am immured within a caliginous room. "Hello?" I repeat, trying to get someone's attention. Nobody seems to be here, I'm alone. I am all by myself here. Danger calls my name from all directions of the room, I don't know where to set my eyes nor how to calm my brain. Thoughts are whirl winding through my head uncontrollably, I don't know if I'm truly in peril, or not. Everything is stygian, eerie and abnormal. "Come on, surely someone is in here!' I hail in hope of comfort. A hollow noise responds, the sound is, baffled? Disorientated? I just genuinely don't understand. I've seen here before. I've dreamt here before. I've...been here before. I'm certain of it. "I know someone is in here! Just own up, it's probably some pathetic joke or something. I'm not scared okay?" I fib, I don't want to express my true emotions, it could put me at a real risk of endangerment, someone with an advantage over me, just overall bad I guess. I stealthily saunter through the jet vacuity. I feel as if I'm in a black hole, of nothingness right now. Only sudden flashes of faulty switches allow me to observe fewer scenes of the enclosing world ahead of me.
"Follow me! I know the way out! I'm free! We can be free! Just follow me! Please!" a foreigner wails, they sound desperate. "I'm coming! Give me a moment!" I answer, persuading them to stay there and wait for me. I helplessly dash through the ambience, I don't care right now. All I care about is my safety! "Keep calling!" I yell. "I'm following your voice!"
...
The foreigner hasn't responded.
I can hear an unknown substance trickling from somewhere nearby. Slowly.
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YOU ARE READING
Sticks and Stones
Historical FictionA story based of World War 2 tragic stories, of which are REAL. Major discretion is advised and there is hints of explicit content. Thank you!
