My hands reached desperately for anything but the stale air surrounding me, i felt for anything solid. But my hands only felt the whisper of cold that came with the new oxygen connecting with my palm. Trying to stand, i found my knees shaky and unstable, barely able to stand, I stumbled through the dark and into the unknown. I saw nothing, heard nothing, and felt only myself in the black. Trying to remember something, anything, searching for anything to penetrate the surrounding fear. Suddenly I'm pulled into a memory; I'm walking, walking down a broken cement side walk. It's snowing, I put pull my hood. I'm alert and very tense, I look over my shoulder paranoia seeping in-
I'm jerked back to the black where more globed moving pictures like the last one, line the distance. My hand slips and slides through each until i find something circular in the color and texture if grab hold of the round item and upon contact i am pulled through into the image.
YOU ARE READING
Cracked Ice
Randomshe has no idea where she is. she doesn't rember a thing. she is alone. with no recolection of her life or why shes here.
