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[martyr]; Can you spot the SOTF references?
Topic Started: Dec 16 2016, 06:19 PM (142 Views)
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(Dorothy's dream led her here)

Her neck ached, her throat hurt, her face blushed and her back was killing her. She limped in the dark room, trying to seek the exit like the first time. Her hands rubbed against the shelves, feeling the nails scratching against her body and pressing themselves against her fingers. She couldn't breath, the air was dense, there was no room to breath. The only thing she smelled was the mold in the walls.

She should have stopped moving. She should curl up and press her hands against her ears to stop hearing the sound of the knife being dragged against the walls of her prison. Her clothes were mangled and her skin was cut. It hurt so much, she couldn't bear it anymore, but she'd walk until her body wouldn't. Next thing she knew, her legs failed her, either out of spite or out of weakness, and she fell.

She wanted to pass out.

If she did, she'd dream of something better than the pain. Something else than the broken glass she had to crawl through, just to reach that door that kept inching away no matter how much time she spent bleeding and crying on the floor. Her broken body and her broken heart and her broken legs couldn't hold it in anymore.

She stopped moving. She laid face down, feeling the shards intruding her face. She didn't care anymore, she didn't want to do this anymore. The light at the end of the tunnels was just a bait. No matter how much she tried, nothing would work out for her. She knew it, her whole life was just a pointless and boring experience that just wouldn't end.


She forgot about it. The thing that bounded her there, the thing that made all of this happen. The thing that was dragging her down just made a sound. It announced her death, her imminent and bloody death. Her neck would be gone, so would be her throat. She'd choke on the blood or bleed out like a dog or her body and her head would just be detached.

At the prospect of death, she changed her mind. She kept crawling and rubbing her body against blades, shards, innards and nails. She felt it covering her body, she didn't want to feel anymore so she stopped in her trails. Her body was shaking and her fingers raked against her face. Her fingers scratched her cheeks, drawing blood out of her. She didn't want to do this anymore, she didn't want to live. She didn't want to think, or to fight, or to breath. She wanted to die.


She felt the jolt going through her neck and she raised her head, only to hit the table she was under. A nail drove itself in her head, she opened her mouth to scream, to beg for it to stop but when she did, only a gasp for air came out. She scrambled forward, attempting to move forward in her quest in the ever-elusive door that changed place whenever she looked away.

Her legs were weighting her down, so was her lower body. Her arms were doing all the work, dragging the rest of the body slowly. She couldn't stop moving. If she did, she'd die. She wouldn't allow herself to die like that. She didn't want to die. Even if the idea charmed her into rolling unto her back looking into the darkness, she wanted to live.

Her body was getting weaker and weaker, her arms were barely under her control anymore. She wanted to move them but she felt like they were nailed to the floor. Just the slightest movements like breathing made her suffer. She couldn't let her eyes closed. If she did, her soul would fade away.


Her mind changed.


She closed her eyes,


and she let it all go.

(Her mind returned to where it belonged.)
Edited by Leaf, Mar 31 2017, 03:52 PM.
me by naft
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