The golden orb glows eerily about the horizon, a grotesque mimic of the moon, it's glow radiating the pale fields below. The world seems to be holding its breath waiting silently. A small breeze fills the world but no birds sing, children laugh or grass sways. Everything remains still though the breeze blows on, pushing through the desolate land to the only thing it can find.
A small girl wanders the field, a crimson curtain falling over her thin eyes and spraying out like sea foam in the wind. She walks through the fields her thoughts dragged down by the silence of night. It has been years and years since she last felt true wind on her face, decades since she truly felt free. This world - this prison - was nothing more than a ghost of reality. A world created from her imagination. Something out of nothing. Her mouth curls into a vicious smile, sharp teeth lurking beneath her innocent face.
The crisp blades of wheat circle around the girl, licking her redding hair. She makes no effort to push her hair out of her eyes. She lets it billow there like the old kites she used to play with with her father before he died. She has long since lost all feeling and warmth within her. She is nothing more than a empty vessel with a cold heart. She watches the horizon knowing it is nothing more than a illusion created for a lost child. Her smirk drags out across the field and pierces the melting sky that dances above her. Stuck in the between world - the sunset of life.
Her eyes dart around the field carefully, the smirk dropping as she scans the area. She sniffs the air cautiously picking up the scent of prey. Her small boney legs carry her across the field to the small girl in record time. She stands above the other girl, her hand held out in friendship. The girl must be around her age, five or six. The new girls pale brown hair is glowing radiantly against the chalky white skin and ragged Crimson hair of the other girl. They watch one another, unsure. The red haired girl begins bursting with excitement and hatred, this is the most fun she's had in years. She's always had a soft spot for these kinds of girls, weak and defenceless. Easily manipulated. Her grin returns as the new girl brushes away her tears.
It's too late for the new arrival now, she had been waiting for this moment for years. This girl would wish she had never been born.
This young girl - the crying girl.
Operation 93 was already underway. All she needed was a memory, and this girl had the perfect one.
Room 101 - 1984. She was certainly going to have fun now.
YOU ARE READING
Room 93 (FIRST DRAFT)
Mystery / Thriller'Mr. Moore, what would you do if I told you that I spent one month trapped in a room with nine people. Out of those nine people two made it back.' When journalist Harry Newman interviews a 57 year Elizabeth Moore he gets more than he expected. Whils...
