The walls close in around me. They threaten to squeeze me in and crush me from both sides, and the closer they get to me, the more easily I can picture it happening. The thought evokes a sharp gasp as claustrophobia hits me. My eyes search desperately for an exit, and lock on a small rectangular opening at the end of the tunnel. Light is beaming through it.
The door.
There's still time. I can still reach it. I push my legs to carry me toward it, running like a prey escaping a predator. The only problem with that is that the prey doesn't always escape. But I can't afford to. They're counting on me. I refuse to let them down.
The walls, as if sensing this newfound hope kindling in me, seem to close in faster. I don't dare focus on them. I can't stop to watch them race towards me, although I can see through my peripheral vision how startlingly quickly they're approaching. My gaze is locked on the light in front of me.
My breath is coming out ragged. My legs are screaming in agony. The wound in my side burns like fire every time my feet hit the ground.
Only ten feet away.
I'm going to make it, I tell myself over and over again. I will make it. I have to. For them.
Then, without warning, the door slams shut, dispelling all traces of light.
I'm not going to make it.
YOU ARE READING
Prompts for Those with No Ideas
General FictionFeeling the urge to write a story? Feel stuck at a scene and don't know where to go with it? This book is full of short writing prompts that you could do whatever you want with! With each chapter you'll find a new theme, idea, and character that you...
