It's dark. My eyes provide nothing, but my other senses tell me this: the air is heavy like an attic, there's absolute silence, the floor is rough like cement, and boy is it cold. As time wears on the cold bites harder. The cement floor is especially cold; I walk in place to spare my feet from having constant contact. A torch flickers on, providing dim light and warmth, but I don't see the source.
My first thought—and the only thing that makes sense—is that I've been kidnapped. Cooped up in some hidden attic or basement. The last thing I remember is falling asleep. Someone... somehow... must've snuck into my house. But... what about my family? What happened to them?
My throat goes dry and tears press at the back of my eyes. I search the room desperately for a way out. I scream—profanities, threats—my voice cracking and losing strength. The cement walls are bare, bleak; there's no sign of an exit. I test the walls with my palms, but they're solid cement. There's no chance of accomplishing anything by pounding them. Still, I throw a few desperate hits because part of me wants to feel pain as if it will assuage my fear.
Time elapses. I'm not sure how much, but it feels like half an hour. I sit balled up in the corner of the room, panting heavily. My phone buzzes in my pocket. It takes a moment to process in my brain that my capturer could possibly be so dumb as to not check a teenager's pockets for a phone, but it's true. Excitement fills me. I grab it in disbelief and look at the message on the lock screen:
The rules are simple: survive.
I freeze. It's from an anonymous number. I quickly put my thumb to the sensor, disregarding it. If I can get into my phone, I can call for help and the police can track my location. But it won't unlock; it won't even read my print. I try to find some way, any way to get into my phone or contact someone, but it won't fucking work. I want to chuck it into the wall, but I still have hope it will magically work.
Suddenly, a green-tinted projection appears on the wall in front of me, startling me and causing my heart to beat so fast it might explode. It reminds me of the pre-game setup for a video game. At the top of the screen it reads, "Choose Your Mount," and beneath that is the pixelated figure of a huge bald eagle with a beak sharpened to break skin. Beneath that it reads:
Mount Name: Glory
Mount Stats-
Stamina: 50%
Max Speed: 50 mph
Strength: 30%
Special Ability: Flying (twenty-second span)
I stare at the eagle in awe, mouth agape, nearly forgetting where I am. Each feather is almost as large as me and they ruffle around the eagle's neck as it shakes its head. I zone out staring at it. My thoughts don't feel normal like my mind is half asleep--too simple to think rationally about my situation.
A virtual keypad with two red arrows appears in front of me. I point to one of the arrows and the bald eagle switches to a dragon. I point to the arrow again and the dragon switches to a colossal butterfly. I continue to flip through creatures referred to as "mounts," admiring them until I settle on one whose stats I deem best. It's a centaur: half-woman, half-horse.
Mount Name: Madam Caut
Mount Stats-
Stamina: 70%
Max Speed: 30 mph
Strength: 70%
Special Ability: Archery (one arrow)
The projection seems to know when I've decided on my mount because the cement room and projections disappear from around me and I find myself blinded by adjusting light. As my eyes familiarize themselves, I slowly take in more of my new surroundings.
YOU ARE READING
Sleep Tight
Bí ẩn / Giật gânA boy draws parallels between the dreams he has each night and the deaths at his high school. Each night, he finds himself in a bizarre competition against his peers. When he awakes, he learns a new kid from school has died. His only hope of survi...
