Sleepwalking my way through life: Jules Verne has nothing on me



Jules Verne has nothing on me

It was pitch black down there. No light could work its way through the twists and turns needed to reach this god awful place. I reached out and inched my way forward, squeezing myself between the rough ground and the solid ceiling. It was surprisingly warm too, despite the cold weather on the surface, and I carefully wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. I couldn’t see a thing, and that made me nervous. I could feel my flashlight in my back pocket, but the power was low and I did not want to risk being left in the dark with no reserve. The darkness was everywhere; it permeated everything – even dulling the sound – to a point where you were unsure whether you were grabbing solid ground or solid darkness. I reached out and grabbed another hold to drag myself across, but this gave way. I squeezed it, feeling the softness, the furriness…

There was something alive down there. I fumbled for my flashlight in a panic, hitting my head off the hard ceiling as I did. I winced in pain and clumsily dropped the torch, my hands flailing wildly for it before it plummeted into the never ending darkness. I grabbed it and twisted the top, the light bursting into life and shining the way ahead. I looked forward, terrified of what lay ahead. But there was nothing. The way was clear, and I could see to the end of the tunnel. I breathed heavily with relief, sucking in the cold air and breathing out again.

I couldn’t breathe. I gasped and choked, but there was something in my throat, something warm and furry. I kicked and writhed, hurting my hands and head off the side of the tunnel. My flashlight fell from my hands and rolled away, leaving me in the horrifying semi-darkness fighting something inside me. Something was holding my ankles, a firm grip around them. I made a rasping sound as I was dragged back the way I came, being pulled out into the open air and to my probable doom. The light blinded me, and it was too cold. I shielded myself from the light and huddled over, still grasping for any breath. I looked up and saw Jules standing over me, a wide grin over her face.

“Finally cleaning under the bed then?”

I rolled over to the other side and hocked up the dust ball.

“Not anymore.” I wheezed.
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3 Comments:

At 7:41 pm, Anonymous copyright said...

Jules Verne? No, nothing on you. And horking out a dust ball! Cats might not have anything, either.

 
At 3:06 am, Anonymous Jules said...

I just hope it stays under the bed.

 
At 5:43 pm, Anonymous brendan said...

Nice writing! Probably the best I've seen in a blog before, other than mine. Just kidding, mind.

 

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