OOTD: Sorry, can't remember.
Makeup: Not sure if it's ruined now.
Hairstyle: No idea; my brain is mush.
Fragrance: Apples and wild flowers (which I would normally love, but now I totally hate).
Dear Diary,
Ughhhdsnjsknbfwepxncdsokofeoiweflughhh.
Oops. My bad.
That was the sound I made when I regained consciousness. Sounding intelligent after passing out is tough work, you know.
When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was how sore and uncomfortable my body felt, like I had been laying in a bad position for too long. I reflexively lifted my arms up to rub my eyes and clear my blurry vision, only to notice that my hands were stuck behind me. I tugged on them, and felt some rough and thick scratching my wrists, and preventing my hands from moving. It was then that I realized that my hands were tied up in rope.
I tried to kick and shove to get myself to stand up, only to notice that my legs were bound up too. As a result, I ended up falling on my side, and smacking my face into what felt like wet dirt.
Yeesh, diary. If I had a dollar for every time I'd fallen on the floor during these last few weeks, I could make Kim Kardashian look like a peasant (Kim, if you're reading this, I'm just joking. Please don't sue me!).
I groaned and flipped on my back, so I could get a better look at my environment and figure out where I was. But that didn't work out too nicely for me, because wherever I'd ended up, it was dark. No matter how I squinted, I could barely make out anything in my surroundings.
I took a sniff of the air, and then widened my eyes when I recognized the faint floral, apple-y scent drifting through the air. I recalled the Philadelphia bus station, where Tharika, Mikhailo, and I had got hit with that same smell, followed by some nets. That's when the large hairy things had come our way. I tried my best to remember what the creatures were, but my memory was still fuzzy.
While my senses began to return to me in full, I began to notice other things. My jacket was was gone, and with it my spear. I had no clue if they were in the room with me, if they had been stolen, or something else. I was cold and defenseless, with nothing to help me out of my ropes.
Anxious about whatever kind of trap I was in, I started squirming around and grunting to get up, until a boy's voice spoke up in the darkness:
"Enough, Hastings. You'll never be able to get up that way."
I flinched and nearly felt my heart leap out of my chest, but I instantly calmed when I recognized the voice as Mikhailo's. And then I started (mentally) freaking out again when I realized that he had heard me grunting like a weirdo for a solid few seconds.
Why, oh why, did I keep embarrassing myself in front of him?
"Mikhailo?" I said in a panicky voice. "Where are you? Where's Tharika? What's going on?"
Mikhailo shushed me, and I went still. The sound of footsteps approached our room, first getting louder, and then getting quieter when whoever it was passed on. When he was certain it was safe, Mikhailo spoke.
"I'm not sure of our exact location, but we seem to be underground," he said. "We're completely surrounded by walls of rocks and dirt."
"Guess that explains the mud I just face-planted into," I muttered.
YOU ARE READING
Chanel Hastings & The Treasures of Aphrodite Book 1: The Magic Girdle
FanfictionDear Diary, Up until a few days ago, I was just a normal girl...until the monster attacks started and I found out that I was a demigod. Apparently, my mother's magic girdle has been taken from Olympus, and between the monsters and my half-siblings i...
