[Original: Drabble] "Nowhere to Somewhere" [G]
Title: Nowhere to Somewhere
Prompt: writerverse challenge #04 phase 11 table of doom, prompt #10 ‘lost’ (2nd person, 500+ words)
Word Count: 507
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original
Summary: You wake up and you don’t know where you are.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Nowhere to Somewhere
You wake up and you don’t know where you are.
For a moment, you’re not entirely sure who you are, either, but then the pounding in your skull lessens to a dull ache and you are able to remember your name, your address and your (very, very low-clearance) agency ID number.
The last thing you knew, you had been sent to Central Filing, to retrieve some highly classified files for your boss, Agent Locke. You don’t remember arriving there, and Central Filing, this place was not. Instead of the clinical monochrome records building, you’re somewhere dark and a little chilly. Outside, you realize, or there wouldn’t be a breeze. You can feel scraggly grass under your fingers, when you can get them to move again. Your whole body aches, not just your head, but you roll onto your back for a better look around.
It’s nighttime. Stars shine above you, thousands of them, millions. You’ve never seen so many stars in the sky, not in your whole life, and without knowing that you were planning to, you reach up to try and touch them.
It hurts. A lot.
You wonder if the geeks in R&D really have perfected that neural stunner they’ve been talking about in the break room, before you realize that they wouldn’t be allowed to use it on a co-worker- and if they had, they wouldn’t have left you out in the woods. However, the alternative, that you’ve been thoroughly beaten up by a person or persons unknown, is not that much more comforting.
Taking a deep breath, you manage to sit up. It still hurts, a lot, but less than before, and you decide to keep going, hauling yourself up on shaky legs. You’re very lucky that there’s a bit of wooden fence nearby, because you lean against it, breathing hard, but you’re still upright and you’re counting that as a victory.
From your new vantage point of several feet higher than when you were prone on the ground, you can see that in addition to all these trees, there is a curving dirt road only a few yards away. It must go somewhere- you’re already in nowhere, and there can’t be any roads that go from nowhere to nowhere, so this one must go somewhere.
It’s possible you have some fairly significant head trauma.
You would really like to lie back down and go to sleep. The breeze feels nice, now, and even though facts about shock and exposure are filtering up through your probably-damaged brain, it’s hard to keep moving.
But you think that Agent Locke has probably noticed you haven’t come back by now. When he can’t get you on your phone (you don’t seem to have it on you) maybe he’ll send some other hapless young agent out looking for you, one who maybe doesn’t deal with full-body pain as well as you do, and you know you can’t let that happen.
You sigh (that hurts, too) and start walking toward the road, one faltering step at a time.
THE END
Current Mood:
frustrated
Prompt: writerverse challenge #04 phase 11 table of doom, prompt #10 ‘lost’ (2nd person, 500+ words)
Word Count: 507
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original
Summary: You wake up and you don’t know where you are.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Nowhere to Somewhere
You wake up and you don’t know where you are.
For a moment, you’re not entirely sure who you are, either, but then the pounding in your skull lessens to a dull ache and you are able to remember your name, your address and your (very, very low-clearance) agency ID number.
The last thing you knew, you had been sent to Central Filing, to retrieve some highly classified files for your boss, Agent Locke. You don’t remember arriving there, and Central Filing, this place was not. Instead of the clinical monochrome records building, you’re somewhere dark and a little chilly. Outside, you realize, or there wouldn’t be a breeze. You can feel scraggly grass under your fingers, when you can get them to move again. Your whole body aches, not just your head, but you roll onto your back for a better look around.
It’s nighttime. Stars shine above you, thousands of them, millions. You’ve never seen so many stars in the sky, not in your whole life, and without knowing that you were planning to, you reach up to try and touch them.
It hurts. A lot.
You wonder if the geeks in R&D really have perfected that neural stunner they’ve been talking about in the break room, before you realize that they wouldn’t be allowed to use it on a co-worker- and if they had, they wouldn’t have left you out in the woods. However, the alternative, that you’ve been thoroughly beaten up by a person or persons unknown, is not that much more comforting.
Taking a deep breath, you manage to sit up. It still hurts, a lot, but less than before, and you decide to keep going, hauling yourself up on shaky legs. You’re very lucky that there’s a bit of wooden fence nearby, because you lean against it, breathing hard, but you’re still upright and you’re counting that as a victory.
From your new vantage point of several feet higher than when you were prone on the ground, you can see that in addition to all these trees, there is a curving dirt road only a few yards away. It must go somewhere- you’re already in nowhere, and there can’t be any roads that go from nowhere to nowhere, so this one must go somewhere.
It’s possible you have some fairly significant head trauma.
You would really like to lie back down and go to sleep. The breeze feels nice, now, and even though facts about shock and exposure are filtering up through your probably-damaged brain, it’s hard to keep moving.
But you think that Agent Locke has probably noticed you haven’t come back by now. When he can’t get you on your phone (you don’t seem to have it on you) maybe he’ll send some other hapless young agent out looking for you, one who maybe doesn’t deal with full-body pain as well as you do, and you know you can’t let that happen.
You sigh (that hurts, too) and start walking toward the road, one faltering step at a time.
THE END
Current Mood:
frustrated