Young Writers Society

We sat in the dark, rat infested underground cellar. It was nearly midnight, or past, so those upstairs had long retired. We were alone. I could hear his gentle moan as he drew the needle to his forearm and inserted it. A small clatter as the needle fell to the cement floor. I flinched, waiting to see if the sudden movement had elicited any movement upstairs. Nothing. Crouching down, I felt around for the syringe. Success! Smiling, I took the cold cloth and wiped it gently against the dark spot on my arm, then proceeded to do the same with the needle. Yes! Perfect. I could feel myself falling into that world - the world I longed for day and night - a gently streaming rainbow of colors - twisting me gently from right to left. Up and down, spinning faster, harder but softer....Perfect! And then suddenly - my perfect world - turned upside down by a hard shove in my right side. "Get up! Now. Their coming! We have to get...out...of...here." He had come out ok and was watching me with gray eyes. Standing, I tried to steady myself on the edge of the chair. Yes, now I could hear them moving faster down the floors, one flight of stairs to the next, faster and faster, they were coming, their voices becoming clearer. His voice yelling louder in my ear, "We have to get out of here! Come on!" Tugging on my arm, shoving me out the door, up the right flight of stairs and into the cold night air. "Your lucky you know," he said, when we had reached the other side of the road and were sitting in the shade. "Your very lucky."

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