Interminable Darkness
Author: HermioneHP5972
Genre: Suspense? vaguely.
Warnings: None
Critique: Please :)
Summary: Sitting all alone in a dark room, waiting until finally you are set free.
Author's Notes: This is an idea that randomly popped into my head a couple of nights ago, as a kind of vague idea that would maybe make a good short story. Hence this. So I'm not sure how good it is.
I've been sitting in this room for close to an hour now. It's impossible to see anything around me; there are no cracks in the walls to this place, no way to see in or out. The only access I have to the outside is a door, but I have no control over it. Someone or something much greater than I has access to the switch that will open it, and I have to wait until the right time to be let out. I'm locked up here in regular intervals, and each time it seems longer and longer, even though it's likely that is not the case. There is a kind of click-click-clinking pervading the walls, Chinese water torture for the ears. And all I can do is stand here and wait patiently. There are no chairs, no sofa. There is no bed. There's not even a table that I could perch on while patiently waiting out the sentence that has been decided for me. There is no food, but I'm not too worried about that. I'm always stuffed; that is probably the one thing I enjoy about this place.
But today the anticipation of finally being let free is getting to me more than it ever has before. I stand rigidly in my spot, tense, waiting for the mechanical clank that always precludes the door swinging open, allowing me out into the world until it's decided that I should once again be shut away. I feel a vague panic. What if this is the one time that it's decided that I never will be let out again? What will become of me? What if the door gets broken? Will it get fixed, or will I be tossed aside, forgotten about, and eventually die? A cold nervous sweat crops up on my body at this thought. Sure I will never be tossed aside. I'm far too much fun to the people that keep me here, in this room; of that one thing I am certain. I'm not entirely sure how or why that is. But I need to have some faith in something. My ears are pricked nervously. The ever-present clicking bounces off the walls, seemingly louder than ever before, mocking me. Just when I think I can stand it no longer, I hear the distinctive clink-thud-whirr of the motor, signifying that my confinement has, for the time being, come to an end. I rush toward the door as it swings outward slowly, and once I'm out the door I shout my excitement, for everyone to hear.
CUCKOO! CUCKOO!
Genre: Suspense? vaguely.
Warnings: None
Critique: Please :)
Summary: Sitting all alone in a dark room, waiting until finally you are set free.
Author's Notes: This is an idea that randomly popped into my head a couple of nights ago, as a kind of vague idea that would maybe make a good short story. Hence this. So I'm not sure how good it is.
I've been sitting in this room for close to an hour now. It's impossible to see anything around me; there are no cracks in the walls to this place, no way to see in or out. The only access I have to the outside is a door, but I have no control over it. Someone or something much greater than I has access to the switch that will open it, and I have to wait until the right time to be let out. I'm locked up here in regular intervals, and each time it seems longer and longer, even though it's likely that is not the case. There is a kind of click-click-clinking pervading the walls, Chinese water torture for the ears. And all I can do is stand here and wait patiently. There are no chairs, no sofa. There is no bed. There's not even a table that I could perch on while patiently waiting out the sentence that has been decided for me. There is no food, but I'm not too worried about that. I'm always stuffed; that is probably the one thing I enjoy about this place.
But today the anticipation of finally being let free is getting to me more than it ever has before. I stand rigidly in my spot, tense, waiting for the mechanical clank that always precludes the door swinging open, allowing me out into the world until it's decided that I should once again be shut away. I feel a vague panic. What if this is the one time that it's decided that I never will be let out again? What will become of me? What if the door gets broken? Will it get fixed, or will I be tossed aside, forgotten about, and eventually die? A cold nervous sweat crops up on my body at this thought. Sure I will never be tossed aside. I'm far too much fun to the people that keep me here, in this room; of that one thing I am certain. I'm not entirely sure how or why that is. But I need to have some faith in something. My ears are pricked nervously. The ever-present clicking bounces off the walls, seemingly louder than ever before, mocking me. Just when I think I can stand it no longer, I hear the distinctive clink-thud-whirr of the motor, signifying that my confinement has, for the time being, come to an end. I rush toward the door as it swings outward slowly, and once I'm out the door I shout my excitement, for everyone to hear.
CUCKOO! CUCKOO!