Odd Writing Snipet
How long had she been down here? She had forgotten the days. All time had blurred into one indistinguishable mess that was no longer separable. Minutes had turned into hours... or had they turned into days...? Months? Years? How long had it been? There was no sense of time, except for the vague notion that it had been forever. How much longer? No, she had given up hope long ago that anything would change or anyone would come to assist.
This prison was dark... there was no such thing as sunlight. It was sad with no existence of even the most minute levels of happiness. It was evil, as if all the good had been sucked dry from it and all that remained was the heinous monster shell. What was this place? She could barely see. Suffocating black smoke blinded her. All she knew was that it smelled of brimstone and sulfur, two smells when combined were always associated with the depths of the Underworld. Was this Hell? It certainly felt like it.
Today would be spent like every other day. She went to the wall and clawed at the stone that was smooth as glass. It was impossible to climb your way up. Up was the only way out. She could only figure she was in a pit, so every day she clawed at the walls until her fingertips split open and bled in hopes of gaining some distance. This was always a failure. At least the pain of her raw and open fingertips helped her ignore the pain of slow starvation. She was intelligent enough to realize she could only survive in this pit for so long, but she had resigned herself to an eventual death long ago.
After every daily failure she would return to her spot on the ground. She would curl up in a somewhat fetal position, resting her head on her pillow of mud and water. There was no cold.. no heat.. no feeling. She was unsure the last time she felt a sensation other than pain. There would be tears to moisten her face had she not cried them all. Her tear ducts were dry and hollow with nothing left. She submitted to slipping dully in and out of consciousness, waiting for enough strength to return so that she might try again.
There was a bright light suddenly. Was it light? She had not seen it so long, she couldn't be sure. But it must be. Nothing could be a beautiful as the light streaming down into her face. It burned her eyes badly, but it was a small price to pay to bask in its glow and feel the sensation of warmth. For the first time in forever, she felt herself smile. The action was almost painful. Surely she was dreaming. But the light did not vanish. Then she saw him. He was beautiful. The light was bright, she couldn't make him out for certain, but she knew he was beautiful and he was kind. He reached down for her, extending his arm. Frantically, she reached up, feeling hope swell inside her. He grasped her hand with an astounding grip. Was he an angel? She felt her body pulled up and a pair of warm, protective arms wrap around her. She felt like no one would hurt her anymore. For the first time in a long time, she felt some happiness enter her body, which only heightened as she felt his soft lips press against her dry, cracked ones in something so passionate, it overwhelmed her.
As soon as the feelings began, they were ripped away. The light disappeared and so did her rescuer. She began to fall as fast as dead weight back to her solitary prison. With a snapping of a few ribs, she hit the slightly softened ground, feeling blood spill from her nose. Her hope was shattered, and she was left vacant and empty again. In the almost nonexistent light she saw a second chance. A glint of metal. Reaching over in the dirt, she pulled the knife towards herself...
So I'm not even sure if this is good. I just kinda stole Andrew's idea of writing things when you're emotional. I just didn't bother naming the girl.
This prison was dark... there was no such thing as sunlight. It was sad with no existence of even the most minute levels of happiness. It was evil, as if all the good had been sucked dry from it and all that remained was the heinous monster shell. What was this place? She could barely see. Suffocating black smoke blinded her. All she knew was that it smelled of brimstone and sulfur, two smells when combined were always associated with the depths of the Underworld. Was this Hell? It certainly felt like it.
Today would be spent like every other day. She went to the wall and clawed at the stone that was smooth as glass. It was impossible to climb your way up. Up was the only way out. She could only figure she was in a pit, so every day she clawed at the walls until her fingertips split open and bled in hopes of gaining some distance. This was always a failure. At least the pain of her raw and open fingertips helped her ignore the pain of slow starvation. She was intelligent enough to realize she could only survive in this pit for so long, but she had resigned herself to an eventual death long ago.
After every daily failure she would return to her spot on the ground. She would curl up in a somewhat fetal position, resting her head on her pillow of mud and water. There was no cold.. no heat.. no feeling. She was unsure the last time she felt a sensation other than pain. There would be tears to moisten her face had she not cried them all. Her tear ducts were dry and hollow with nothing left. She submitted to slipping dully in and out of consciousness, waiting for enough strength to return so that she might try again.
There was a bright light suddenly. Was it light? She had not seen it so long, she couldn't be sure. But it must be. Nothing could be a beautiful as the light streaming down into her face. It burned her eyes badly, but it was a small price to pay to bask in its glow and feel the sensation of warmth. For the first time in forever, she felt herself smile. The action was almost painful. Surely she was dreaming. But the light did not vanish. Then she saw him. He was beautiful. The light was bright, she couldn't make him out for certain, but she knew he was beautiful and he was kind. He reached down for her, extending his arm. Frantically, she reached up, feeling hope swell inside her. He grasped her hand with an astounding grip. Was he an angel? She felt her body pulled up and a pair of warm, protective arms wrap around her. She felt like no one would hurt her anymore. For the first time in a long time, she felt some happiness enter her body, which only heightened as she felt his soft lips press against her dry, cracked ones in something so passionate, it overwhelmed her.
As soon as the feelings began, they were ripped away. The light disappeared and so did her rescuer. She began to fall as fast as dead weight back to her solitary prison. With a snapping of a few ribs, she hit the slightly softened ground, feeling blood spill from her nose. Her hope was shattered, and she was left vacant and empty again. In the almost nonexistent light she saw a second chance. A glint of metal. Reaching over in the dirt, she pulled the knife towards herself...
So I'm not even sure if this is good. I just kinda stole Andrew's idea of writing things when you're emotional. I just didn't bother naming the girl.