In My Sweet Captivity

Something’s there.

I know it. I can sense it, feel it coming closer.

Step by step, it’s drawing nearer; something, hiding.

The room is dark, closed, compact. My hands are clammy. Cautiously, I search along the wall. Feeling, grasping, I am looking for the door.

There is none. Or so I think. The last image preserved in my memory is of when it was light. There was a desk in the corner, a bed pushed against the opposite wall. I know there is a door, somewhere.

It’s closing in. I feel midnight’s dark embrace encircling my waist. Gently caressing my innocence, it taunts me, it teases with my mind. I struggle to fend for myself, but in the night, I am powerless.

It’s getting warmer. I know it’s time to escape, to find the door.

I see it. A soft, quiet glow rims the edges of the plied wood nailed around the frame. It is a sloppy finish, completed by careless hands. I can barely make out the door knob.

Crouching low on my knees, I rest my grimy hands against the cold, oily floor. An eerie sensation runs up my palms, my elbows. I flinch, yet I don’t back away. I have no time. It’s closing in.

Footsteps.

I hear them against the creaking floorboards.

I am definite, I am absolute. This time, I know for sure.

I scramble for the doorway. My knees, my wrists, scrape along the splintered flooring. I have no time.

Adrenaline. A rush surges through my system. My heart throbs deeply within my chest, each deafening thud brings me one step closer. Breathing in heaving gasps, I know what I need to do. I need to get to the door. I need to feel the solid, satisfying twist of the doorknob between my fingers as I grasp the tail end of my freedom. I need the air, I need the light.

I am panting heavily. Four, three more steps until I get to the doorway. Now two, one.

I am almost there. Almost. There.

I reach out for the doorknob. The taste of freedom is dangling above my lips. I am so close.

Finally.

A hand clasps tightly around my face. One swift blow to the chest.

Like an unforgiving blade, my scream pierces the night.

That’s all it took.

And I was gone.

I liked the feel of this piece - it was interesting. And the fact that it was choppy.. it worked. I almost thought it was a poem when you started out, but as it went along, I started to see the structure. But, just be careful not to get too much of a poem feel. Or do. I guess it's your choice.

The large paragraph in the middle was what I liked most. You do well with longer sections - but your shorter sentences and fragments work, too. So basically I liked it all!

"Like an unforgiving blade, my scream pierces the night."

Wonderful similie. And wonderful work! Keep it up, and thanks for the great read.

-R

You did a fantastic job creating suspense!! That's an honest to goodness skill.

Still, if your writing doesn't have intention, the tension unravels and your audience gets lost.

This could be a beautiful segment in a short story, but as a stand alone piece, it didn't do much. Well, what I mean is: what are you saying? If you are only wanting to tell a story, tell the whole story. And if you are expressing a belief or an idea, do so more completely.

Your language and style were fantastic.
Just... write more.

BABS

Hello!

I have to agree with Babanuuk here--you write powerfully and create an intense atmosphere in this piece, but that's all there is. I'm curious to know more: what's going on? Who is the narrator, and why is it so important that they find the door? Right now this has the feel of a dream sequence, but until I see something more concrete, more awake, I don't really know what I'm looking at.

Hope this helps. Keep writing!

~Stripes