Twenty-three Hours of Darkness

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.


Story is marked as mature.

“There, there.” I crooned. A stray hair stuck to Alice's nose but she didn't seem to notice. I brushed it back for her. Her glazed expression never changed. “Our hour is almost up.”

She shivered but didn't say anything.

This was my sixth day with this Alice. I knew that she hated me for keeping her down here but I suspected that she was beginning to hate when I left. Life's choices were troublesome sometimes. I knew that more than most.

I started to stand, knees aching from kneeling for an hour. Pain was the coin that I paid for my time with my Goddess.

The tiny bell rang like the laughter of a sadistic Tinkerbell.

Alice's eye twitched. “Please.”

Her voice was raspy but that was to be expected. As far as I knew, she hadn't spoken for three days not that I'd know for sure. She could have been screaming from the moment I left each day until the moment I returned and I would never hear it.

Perhaps tomorrow we would have a real conversation.

I closed the heavy vault door and left her alone, in the dark.


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Comments (1 so far!)

ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

Sick, sadistic, twisted.

  • #1442 Posted 4 years ago
  • 0

Story prompt:

Imagine your first person narrator being aware of any kind of countdown (time, quantity, etc.) that is important to someone else; present the narrator's feelings about the event and its meaning for the other person.

A Countdown for Another by aslargeasalone


  • Published 4 years ago.
  • Story viewed 3 times and rated 0 times.

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