"martha?" A voice echoed around the dark room, letting way to walls, tall, they reached so tall that she could not see the end. And the walls led way to a floor, a floor that was threatening to give out on her, to shatter the second she took a breath. So she was frozen to floor, not daring to move a muscle, and only hoped someone would come help. "Marthhhhhaaaa....." The same voice coed around the room, daring her to come closer. She didn't know why, but she feared it. She feared it would find her. So she stood completly still, barely breathing, fearing even the smallest sound would lead the disinbodied voice to her. The walls melted away, crumbling down, as if they were never even there. This exposed darkness. Nothing but darkness. An abyss of unforgiving names, searing rage, and unforgettable pain. She was terrified. She wanted to run. Run far from this place. But she was glued to the ground, paralyzed in fear. The voice drew closer, forming around her, filling every empty space with the same word, "martha." Her hands started to shake as it felt like her name was being chanted by 10, 20, 100 voices, all sounding furious, like they were searching for her. And they were. She just knew they wanted her dead. Her head started to spin, she fell to the ground with a thud. Martha.. martha... Martha.. martha... the voices seared her hearing, blocking out everything outside of the voices. Her vision was clogged by tears, streaming down her face is terror. This is it, she thought. She closed her eyes.
As she slowly started letting go of all hope, she was pulled back to realty in a sweaty mess of shivers. She rubbed her eyes, fear still fresh in her mind. She could remeber the feeling of being trapped and darkness. Like the true picture was smeared. Her hearing tuned in slowly, picking up her mom's yells from downstairs. "I'm coming" she said back in a horse voice. She slugged down the stairs, and was imiedetly hit with hunger when the smell of bacon filled her nose. She walked into the kitchen, pausing at the door and watching her mother hastly cooking breakfast. Her brown hair was pulled back in a bun, and she was wearing a yellow sun dress. "Good morning sweety." She said, a smile plastered on her face. "Good morning." Martha answered, sitting down at the table with a plate of bacon.
She scarfed it down quickly, and went back upstairs to get dressed. As she was putting on a jacket, a small folded piece of paper fluttered to the ground. She picked it up, and opened it. Meet me in the woods was spelled in curly fuant, the wavy ends of the letters licking the edges of the paper gingerly. Her heart seemed to stopped for what felt like a minute, as she read the words over and over again in my head. Meet me in the woods.
