![]() ![]() She gripped the exposed wood of the doorjamb to steady herself. She reached a doorway and the prickling shot through her arms and legs, surprising her and making her gasp. The last thing she wanted to do was to trip and fall on the glass-littered floor. But after a moment, when the need to follow the echo became too strong, she started moving again, her feet shuffling over the concrete and kicking debris out of her path. “I’m okay,” she whispered into the emptiness around her, telling herself she should stop. She paused, her stomach tightening as her eyes searched the shadows, trying to discern one shape from another, trying to convince herself that she was all alone in here. Her feet crunched over broken glass, the sound slicing its way through the calm that had settled over her, blanketing her fears and dulling the rhythm of her heart. It was almost completely black in this part of the abandoned warehouse. If she turned one way, the sensation weakened. Like the prickling sensation of sitting on your foot for too long. And even though it wasn’t painful, or even uncomfortable, it was still. She didn’t know how exactly to describe what was leading her-pulling her. It wasn’t the kind of thing she could see or hear, making it all the more difficult to pinpoint. VIOLET STRAINED, SEARCHING FOR THE SENSATION through the suffocating blackness. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |