"What about Icarus?!" says a voice.
Amara runs her hands along a soft fabric. Her fingers trace the tiny triangular patterns that constitute the sky-blue knitted blanket underneath her.
"This isn't sand" she mumbles.
Amara buries her face into the blanket and allows the smooth texture to caress her cheek, and then her nose.
"I'm in a bed"
She grabs a fistful of blanket and squeezes.
"Where the heck am I?"
Finally, Amara opens her eyes.
Amara finds herself on a bed in the middle of a small rectangular room. Posters of birds ranging from eagles to hawks to hummingbirds cover large portions of the white walls.
She stares at the knitted blanket below her.
"It's made of silk?"
Amara swings her legs off of the bed and switches to a sitting position. A solid oak chifferobe, complete with five vertically descending drawers, and a mirror presses against a wall on the opposite end of the room. Amara tentatively approaches the chifferobe. She scans the ground before her each step and notices the sky-blue silk carpet splayed across the floor.
"Everything's made of silk."
Amara stares at herself in the mirror. She fixes her attention on the indelible dirt stains on her acid washed jeans and t-shirt, the unkempt dark-brown hair emerging from her once fully-shaved head, and her blue eyes, once sharp, now dull.
This journey has worn out more than Amara's legs.
Her eyes fly open as she notices the absence of her bookbag. She conducts a brisk sweep of the room and sees her bag hanging from a hook on the back of the room door.
"The diamond bracelet!" shouts Amara as she snatches the bag off of the hook and nearly rips it open. She rummages through the bag and exhales.
The diamond bracelet glimmers in her hand. Inside of the bag, she also notices the capsule containing the purple pill.
"Good to know whoever brought me here respects people's privacy--"
"--No! He wasn't crazy! He knew the truth! He knew everything about everyone!" booms a voice from outside the room.
Amara's ears twitch as she lightly presses one against the door. She hears a cacophony of jeers and compromises.
She lowers her eyes and then wraps her hand around the cold gold-colored door knob. Then, she twists the knob and pulls the door open.
Amara inches down a narrow hallway and enters a bright room. Inside are five men, five women, bottles, books, and pizza.
Some men sink into the backs of couches, while others roam around the room emphatically. Some women sit on the edges of the couches with bottles in their hands, while others flip through books and recite passages printed within the pages.
All of them have red bird feather tattoos.
Amara sees the symbol on the back of one man's neck, on the ankle of one woman's leg, and she sees two red bird feather tattoos on the back of the forearms of a muscular man (23) with short brown hair and a gray silk scarf wrapped around his neck.
The man stares directly into her eyes. Amara takes a step back as the chatter within the room ceases and a deadly silence reigns supreme. A man takes a quick step towards Amara, but the muscular man grabs his arm and restrains him.
YOU ARE READING
Walking Dollar Bills
AdventureA story about four people, who make a deal with the devil, and end up with the power of God. This is "Walking Dollar Bills" Forget becoming a millionaire or even a billionaire. Jeff who? What happens when your wealth doesn't come from assets or skil...
