My last post marked my 200th post in 13 years. Thanks for following!
I am committed to NaNoWriMore. Here’s a rough snippet …
Sweat ran down my face in rivulets. My throat was parched. I screamed. But heard nothing. There was no escape.
My arms ached. My legs felt sore. It was the most uncomfortable position to be in. Trussed up, hands tied behind my back, tied to my ankles, bent over backwards, and blindfolded with tape over my mouth. My head felt heavy and painful. As though I had smacked my head over and over again, against some hard object. My body ached all over. My arms were sore. My feet were sore. My stomach growled. My throat felt parched.
I did not know if it was day or night. I did not know where I was. I did not know what day of the week it was, when and how I got to be, where I was. My hands hurt. In fact, my whole body hurt from being twisted over uncomfortably. I did not even know why I was there. Where ever that was.
I yanked furiously, aching to free my hands and only hurt them more. I panted, my heart beat erratically. This is not the time to panic. Stay calm. Think. I ordered myself.
It was easy to say, but hard to focus.
How could one go through this and stay sane. I never thought I was claustrophobic. It was the worst possible time to realize, maybe, just maybe, I was just a little claustrophobic!
The deafening silence was unbearable. I willed my heart to slow down. An impossible feat, I thought.
As finally my heart beat slowed to a normal pace, almost, I felt it. I felt the heat. The familiar heat of the desert. Beating down on me. The sun was beating down on the desert floor. At least I was still in the desert. Through the silence of the moment, I heard, the exhilarating whirl of a propeller: an aircraft. Taking off, possibly into another glorious, hot, summer sky.
“Help,” I shouted.
All I heard was garbled and muffled sounds, barely in a whisper.