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?
Comments (1 so far!)
Sick, sadistic, twisted.
- #1442 Posted 4 years ago
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.
- Published 4 years ago.
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