My delicate eyelids flutter open: lashes blinking back confusion. The lack of oxygen in my subtle breath stifles the scream which escapes my coarse lips. Blackness buries me in its folds and already I want to smash this concrete world into oblivion! Shatter it. The room is heavy with the scent of wet stone. Carefully, I press my palm against the texture and feel the bleak clasp my hand in a familiar embrace. Each weave around my dainty wrist, intertwining but cutting deeper with every movement. Then my arms begin to ache from the inescapable ice of isolation.
A single crack in a slab allows me to perceive the sound of a soft pitter-patter rushing through the wind. This sudden breeze interrupts the fragile strands of hair that cascade infront of my defined collarbone. Momentarily, my prostrated eyes close again, my thoughts drift, and my memories kick me arduous in the heart.
"How did I get here?" I ask myself in a whisper of uncertainty, as though I could not reminisce.
A monotonous sound creaks/whines/howls in the distance. The capacious door opens into abyss. Except for a caliginous figure, that is stood so still. I eventually decide to meet his intense gaze; his lips abate into a curved alignment that slices apart my spine. Now my life is four walls of missed opportunities - poured into concrete molds...
YOU ARE READING
Isolation Within
Short StoryA descriptive peice of writing in which implicates a young women who wakes up to find herself in a cell. However, cannot remember why she is there.
