trapped - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Trapped. No way out. I search for something, anything, a crevice, a seal, but the walls are a shiny surface with no clues as to how I ever got in here in the first place. There is no door, there are no odours and the blackness is absolute, not a trace of light anywhere. My prison is a perfect cube, the corners just reachable if I extend my arms like a starfish. My breathing is steady, my mind still focused. If there was a way in there is a way out, it's just a matter of thinking clearly until I find it.
Trapped, but you can't cage me. I see the prison walls but there is so much I can do in here to piss you off. There are no guards, only other prisoners who pass me without blinking an eye. I will find the cracks and make them larger, just a little at a time. I don't have to take them down myself, I'd need machinery for that I just don't have. All I need to do is create enough weakness and then the walls will crumble under their own weight. I'll make you rue the day you put a noose around my neck and I don't much care if I make it out alive. Making your existence hard is reward enough.
I heard a loud clicking noise behind me. I turned back to see that the door was closed. I tried to open the door, my bare hands pushing against the rough surface of the door. It was all in vain. The door stood stubbornly in its place.There was not even a window in this room. A shudder ran through me. Trapped. I was trapped. I was confined within the walls of this room. I felt claustrophobic. A metallic smell hung in the room. It reminded me somewhat of the smell of dried blood. The room was pitch dark. Suddenly, an ear splitting scream came from the room next to mine. I was so scared that my heart missed a beat. The door flew ajar and standing there was a man with a butcher's knife in his hand. Blood was dripping from the knife. I was going to die.
Emily sat opposite the ghoul, who smiled at her and produced a deck of cards. She felt the boards beneath her dried skin and practiced looking out of the corners of her eyes. Maybe she could make a plan without being detected. The glass was single pane. It would hurt like hell to be cut, but once outside she could run for home. Then without meaning to her eyes went to the fragile pane. At once her neck and head became rigid, frozen. “Tut tut, I did warn you. Now look what you've gone and made me do...” The window became a wall. She felt her head being turned to the door, the door became a wall. She twisted to face the stairs, they disappeared. The kitchen entrance became an iron grille, medieval and black. “Now, pay attention, my love, we have a game to play. The stakes are high, they always are...”
In the half-light of morning the street was eerie. It wasn't just that it was a still day; the air simply didn't move. The leafy avenue was bereft of noise, as if every murmur and rustle was stolen away in the night. The sky was empty, not just of birds, but of clouds also. There was no weather at all; even the sunlight felt cold. Jian was about to retreat inside when from the distance came a series of tinny clangs. It was like the sound of an old can bouncing down the road after a wedding car, but without the engine rumbling or the hiss of tires on wet asphalt. It grew louder, then softer, then louder again. At first it appeared to come from in front, then from behind. In only moments the noise was coming from every direction, getting closer, louder, more frantic...
In the shadowy gloom of the old warehouse there is a silhouetted figure, thin and unmoving. I crouch against the tin walls taking in shallow breaths, careful not to make a sound. After a few minutes my curiosity is peaked. No-one can be that still, not even me. Even so, I slide around in the shadows until I'm closer. Now that the figure is feet away I see that it is utterly white, even the eyes and it's stillness is rock-like, inhuman. I can breathe freely now, it's just a mannequin; one of those dummies from the stores. I creep out and stand face to face with it, I almost laugh. It's plastic, cold to the touch and it wobbles even with a slight poke. Then my eyes fall to the skinny arm, it wears a blue armband. Odd. I don't like odd things, it never means anything good. But when I turn there is a new figure, leaning against the exit, tall and muscular, male without a doubt. Then the silence is shattered by a crunch that can only come from an apple. No-one has these things anymore.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by .
The avalanche comes faster than God on a skateboard. One minute the slopes are pristine and the next they're moving. It would be funny if it weren't so deadly, but there isn't time to laugh anyway. In seconds the powder is around me, kissing coldly. In another moment the weight of the snow is on my back and my forward momentum is no longer under my control. I tumble over and over, crushed from all sides. Time passes both in slow motion and in a flash, then I am still. The light is gone. The snow could be any colour and I wouldn't know the difference. Humans didn't evolve for such things; my bones are broken. I'm cold, colder than I've ever been. Either the snow is sucking my heat in like drug or I'm bleeding out. Perhaps underneath me the snow looks like a halloween seven-eleven slushie. Five minutes ago I was in the sunshine, not a care in the world, now I'm buried deep. No way out. Perhaps this is the time to relax, make my peace with the almighty, but my anger is all that's keeping me alive right now.
The door was the grey of unburnished silver, dull and spotted with years of water damage. Where there should have been some fancy matching handle was only a square shaft of dark cold metal. Mac closed his fingers around it to twist but they simply slipped over the coarse edges and came away blackened...