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.
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.
3 Comments:
Jules Verne? No, nothing on you. And horking out a dust ball! Cats might not have anything, either.
I just hope it stays under the bed.
Nice writing! Probably the best I've seen in a blog before, other than mine. Just kidding, mind.
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