Author Games: Circle

Task One | 11-20 Entries

11 // CAMDEN FISHER

Rosa alba; A white rose symbolizes purity, innocence, reverence, and silence.

*

He was lost. Already, fear was seizing at his lungs, gripping them tightly until he found it difficult to breathe, to move, to think. An anchor tugged his heart into his boots, and he swiveled in place, searching his surroundings.

He was trapped. The revelation burned within him like hellfire, as he desperately scoured his memories for how he'd arrived in this wondrous place. There was a curved ceiling above him - a dome, without windows or doors. A circle encased his feet, constricting his movement to an area of approximately a half-foot radius. It would have fascinated him, had he not been so afraid.

He was not alone. Upon counting, Camden discovered that there were eighteen others sharing this space, all arranged in a circle. Nineteen, if one included the dog, who was looking at the boy rather snobbishly over his short snout.

Camden quickly looked away.

An emboldened voice broke the tense silence: "Where the hell are we? And who the hell are you people?"

"You know as well as I do," another voice declared.

"How'd we get here?"

More and more voices rang out, though the owners seemed mostly stuck in place - reluctant to move from their respective circles. Camden shoved his glasses further up his nose, and finally added his voice to the chorus, which was increasing in volume.

No one listened.

"Quiet!"

No one listened to this newcomer, either.

No one was listening to anyone but themselves, really, until one girl stepped outside of her circle.

The movement was nearly too swift to catch. She was on the floor in a second, still as the grave that she would never get to see. With her arm flung over her eyes, and her head cocked to the side, the girl formed a figure similar to the renaissance paintings that Camden had so carefully studied, once upon a time.

"Is she dead?" A creaky elderly voice worried, though she sounded near nonchalant about it. It wasn't that she didn't care - Camden knew that. It hadn't registered yet and the words of acknowledgment were stuck in his throat still when another man left the circle.

He managed one step out of line, towards the fallen girl. Then he too collapsed.

"Somebody help them!"

"Yeah, you volunteering?"

"What in God's name is happening?"

"God?" An eager-looking man grinned. His lips were a bit too wide for his pale face. "Tell me more of this God, hm?"

"No," this time a man in his mid-forties held up a hand, as the elderly woman from earlier made to move from her place. "Nobody move. It's a trap. Something is rigged outside of our circles. Something that made those two," he acknowledged their fallen comrades with a dip of his head, "suffer a no-doubt painless death." If the words were meant to be reassuring, they failed entirely.

"That's interesting," Camden blurted out before he could help himself. Instantly, he regretted the words. Sixteen pairs of eyes turned towards him, some filled with suspicion; others genuinely curious. The boy noticed that the self-righteous dog refused to stoop so low as to look over.

"What do you mean, 'interesting'?" This came from a boy around Camden's own age, though there was something darker hidden in his eyes - a knowledge or maturity that Camden couldn't grasp.