"I have tried simply to write the best I can. Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can." -Ernest Hemingway

“The only living works are those which have drained much of the author's own life into them.” –Samuel Butler

Monday, July 23, 2012

Daisy in the Black Abyss (Part Two)

My survival instincts are kicking into over-drive. I force my hands in opposite directions. The rope stretches a fraction of an inch. Hope flares but is quickly extinguished by the burn igniting on my wrists. Rubbed raw, my arms weaken. I feel the oozing of blood from my tender skin and my strength begins to die once more.
 Tears fill my eyes again and I start to wonder what I had done to land me here, where I will surely die…
A few hours earlier…
Wide awake in the middle of the night, I decided to take one of my customary walks in the dark streets. Adrenaline pumped through me as I stepped out into the alley behind my apartment complex. Deserted and eerie, the alley beckoned to me to take a visit because of the dangers it could hold. Excitement rushed up my spine and I gladly took a step from the safety of my home.
I aimlessly walked from alley to alley and street to street. I took in the sight of the city with the glow of a few street lights. The orange glow illuminated my path and how quiet the streets were.
I kept up the same steady pace until I stumbled upon the first real sign of danger I had seen that night…

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