Burn; TMR ➵ Thomas

One | ✓

My name is Thomas, he thought.

That was all he knew - nothing else. Thomas didn't know how it was feasible to remember only his name but not his past, family or his friends. He stayed in a fetus position by a corner of the room, slightly hoping and praying that the horrific journey would end as soon as possible.

With a groan and a clonk, the rising room ceased. The box soon stopped swaying and everything fell silent. Minutes had passed. Looking around in every direction, Thomas only saw darkness. He felt along the walls, trying to search for a way out, but there was nothing other than cool metal.

"Someone ... help ... me!" he shouted, each ward ripped his throat raw.

The next thing he knew, a loud clank rang out above him. He sucked in a startled breath as he looked up. After so long in darkness, the light stabbed his eyes. Thomas looked away, covering his face with both hands. He heard voices.

"Look at that shank."

"Looks like a klunk in a T-shirt."

"You're the klunk, shuck-face."

"Hope you enjoyed the one-way trip, Greenie."

"Ain't no ticket back, bro."

Some of the words were completely foreign, others felt familiar. He first saw shifting shadows. Soon, they turned into the shapes of bodies — people bending over the hole in the ceiling. As if the lens of a camera had sharpened its focus, the faces had cleared. They were boys, they all were. They were teenagers - kids.

Finally, someone lowered a rope from above, the end of it tied into a big loop. Thomas hesitated at first then stepped into it with his right foot and clutched it. Someone yanked him towards the sky.

The world seemed to spin. A storm of emotions wrenched his gut, twisted and pulled. Thomas wanted to scream, cry and puke. The chorus of voices had grown silent, but a person spoke as they yanked him over the sharp edge of the dark box.

"Nice to meet ya, shank," a stranger spoke. "Welcome to the Glade."

[Written 2 January 2017]

[Edited 12 March 2018]