51 Days
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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación sáb, abr 13, 2019
Trapped in a room. Nothing here. No windows, no bed. There's a light bulb. Too high to reach though, and no point anyway. And there's a door. A metal door. no handle. It opens once a day. I can't see what's out there, but every time it opens something comes in the room. There's no point of getting out. The wall has a giant "3" written on it. There's some scratchy writing on the walls too. "51," it writes. "51 Days." Updates whenever. Sorry.
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*click* *click* *bang* *click* *click* *bang* Something was happening outside of the confines of that room. Something was moving around. A dull pain faded as gears continued clicking. *click* *click* *bang* Something was out there. Something was rigging the traps. The clicking continued through a deafening ring. *click* *click* *bang* The scene was setting up, getting ready for the performance. Everything stopped for a loud hiss as the door slid into the ground. Light blinded them. And before they knew it they forgot the light. Imagine falling so fast you didn't notice when you stopped. Imagine forgetting your family, but you wouldn't care. What was a family? Imagine a world about to end. Then imagine your world was a box with three others. One that could go on forever. We call her Lynda. She's special.

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