Twenty-three Hours of Darkness
“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.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
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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.
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Sick, sadistic, twisted.