Mkay...I'm not sure how many people actually look at Writer's Boulevard, but I thought I'd toss something up anyway. Chances are, I'm going to use this thread for all of my written work. I'll pretty much say if it's a story, a poem, a fragment, or otherwise before I actually post it. (By fragment, I mean it's a scene where I pretty much had writer's block and had no clue how to continue.) Feel free to give comments and criticism.
Darkness. The absense of light. Indeed, this was what the young woman saw when her consciousness returned to her. Besides the lack of light in the room, the first thing she noticed was a tremendous throb of pain in her skull. With a soft cry, her hand flew up to her head, grasping the thick locks which dangled freely over her brow. Her slender fingers gently stroked over an odd lump which bulged from her left temple.
"...how in the world-?" she began to no one. Her sentence was interrupted by a brilliant light suddenly bursting into the room. She winced slightly and clenched her eyes shut. As though like a shield, the girl held up her hands in an attempt to protect her eyes from the blinding rays.
The dulled echo of a door opening reached her ears, indulging the young woman in curiosity. Her eyes cracked open as far as the light would allow her to. It appeared that she was in a sort of cell. The bare walls were formed from concrete, as was the cold floor. From what she could tell, the door was made and reinforced with metal. There was no handle on this side, so she assumed there was one on the other side of the door. A sliding panel was about eye level of the average standing person. At the bottom of the door was a small gap with a swinging panel upon it. She figured this was used for food, water, and dropping off delivered parcels. However, not even a child could crawl through it. Over in the far corner of the sell was a sink (not for drinking from, she figured) and a thankfully working metal toilet. The only real comfort in this cell was the bed, though the creaky springs poked rudely through the mattress. The light emitted from five bulbs hanging from the ceiling (also formed from concrete).
Her eyes adjusted to the light as the stranger walked into the cell. He appeared to be some sort of official, judging by his well-kept uniform. His shot, dark hair was slicked back and his matching goatee stuck out just a bit from his chin. The man kept a hand on the handle of the door as he addressed the young lady. Despite his message, his tone was somewhat intimidating.
"You're free to go, miss," he said briskly.
"...free to go?" she repeated, rather uncertain.
The man said nothing as he stepped out, leaving the door pushed open. She stood up slowly, triggering another throb. With a pained groan, she rested her brow in her palm. He didn't seem to notice nor care as he stood solemnly at the door. After a moment, the pain subsided. Thankful for the relief, the young woman relaxed her arm, letting it rest beside her hip.
Her steps were rather hesitant as she stepped out into the hall. About every ten feet, those same metal doors lined the hallway. In awe, the girl noticed how almost perfect everything looked. Footsteps echoed down the hall, growing fainter as they receded. If the official hadn't spoke, the woman would not have noticed his absence.
"Keep up, please. This way, now."
Much like a child taking a tour of a museum, the woman obeyed and hurried along. She was led through winding corridors and even up a couple flights of stairs. From what she saw, all of the halls appeared to be the same. Though she wasn't counting at first, she guessed that she passed at least forty doors as she walked along. However, something didn't seem right to her.
"Um...excuse me, sir," she called to the official timidly.
The man didn't even turn. "What is it now?"
"I was wondering...where am I, exactly?"
The official's steps ceased as he turned to the woman, a look of amazement passing through his stern eyes. He quirked a brow and his tone softened just a little.
"'Where are you'? Cripes, that blow must've messed up your head."
"Blow?"
"Don't you remember? You were in that brawl in the courtyard about three days ago. That stone Bonnie threw at you knocked you out cold."
"...brawl?" Now that made no sense to the young woman. She didn't like fighting, or so she believed. The official just shrugged.
"Doubt it matters much, but you're on Greens Isle, an island for solitary prisoners. You've been here for nearly eight years, now. How could you forget?"
Her eyes widened at his response. Eight years? What could she have possibly done to earn eight years of solitary confinement? The official cleared his throat and gestured to the next flight of stairs.
"Come on, then. Your chopper's waiting."
~Story Fragment~
-=Untitled=-
-=Untitled=-
Darkness. The absense of light. Indeed, this was what the young woman saw when her consciousness returned to her. Besides the lack of light in the room, the first thing she noticed was a tremendous throb of pain in her skull. With a soft cry, her hand flew up to her head, grasping the thick locks which dangled freely over her brow. Her slender fingers gently stroked over an odd lump which bulged from her left temple.
"...how in the world-?" she began to no one. Her sentence was interrupted by a brilliant light suddenly bursting into the room. She winced slightly and clenched her eyes shut. As though like a shield, the girl held up her hands in an attempt to protect her eyes from the blinding rays.
The dulled echo of a door opening reached her ears, indulging the young woman in curiosity. Her eyes cracked open as far as the light would allow her to. It appeared that she was in a sort of cell. The bare walls were formed from concrete, as was the cold floor. From what she could tell, the door was made and reinforced with metal. There was no handle on this side, so she assumed there was one on the other side of the door. A sliding panel was about eye level of the average standing person. At the bottom of the door was a small gap with a swinging panel upon it. She figured this was used for food, water, and dropping off delivered parcels. However, not even a child could crawl through it. Over in the far corner of the sell was a sink (not for drinking from, she figured) and a thankfully working metal toilet. The only real comfort in this cell was the bed, though the creaky springs poked rudely through the mattress. The light emitted from five bulbs hanging from the ceiling (also formed from concrete).
Her eyes adjusted to the light as the stranger walked into the cell. He appeared to be some sort of official, judging by his well-kept uniform. His shot, dark hair was slicked back and his matching goatee stuck out just a bit from his chin. The man kept a hand on the handle of the door as he addressed the young lady. Despite his message, his tone was somewhat intimidating.
"You're free to go, miss," he said briskly.
"...free to go?" she repeated, rather uncertain.
The man said nothing as he stepped out, leaving the door pushed open. She stood up slowly, triggering another throb. With a pained groan, she rested her brow in her palm. He didn't seem to notice nor care as he stood solemnly at the door. After a moment, the pain subsided. Thankful for the relief, the young woman relaxed her arm, letting it rest beside her hip.
Her steps were rather hesitant as she stepped out into the hall. About every ten feet, those same metal doors lined the hallway. In awe, the girl noticed how almost perfect everything looked. Footsteps echoed down the hall, growing fainter as they receded. If the official hadn't spoke, the woman would not have noticed his absence.
"Keep up, please. This way, now."
Much like a child taking a tour of a museum, the woman obeyed and hurried along. She was led through winding corridors and even up a couple flights of stairs. From what she saw, all of the halls appeared to be the same. Though she wasn't counting at first, she guessed that she passed at least forty doors as she walked along. However, something didn't seem right to her.
"Um...excuse me, sir," she called to the official timidly.
The man didn't even turn. "What is it now?"
"I was wondering...where am I, exactly?"
The official's steps ceased as he turned to the woman, a look of amazement passing through his stern eyes. He quirked a brow and his tone softened just a little.
"'Where are you'? Cripes, that blow must've messed up your head."
"Blow?"
"Don't you remember? You were in that brawl in the courtyard about three days ago. That stone Bonnie threw at you knocked you out cold."
"...brawl?" Now that made no sense to the young woman. She didn't like fighting, or so she believed. The official just shrugged.
"Doubt it matters much, but you're on Greens Isle, an island for solitary prisoners. You've been here for nearly eight years, now. How could you forget?"
Her eyes widened at his response. Eight years? What could she have possibly done to earn eight years of solitary confinement? The official cleared his throat and gestured to the next flight of stairs.
"Come on, then. Your chopper's waiting."
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Whoops. XD I'll fix that in a bit. I'd continue the story, but I labeled it as a fragment due to the fact that I have no idea where I'm going with it. XD But to entertain for now, a poem that I have.
Oh well. Here's another story for y'all.
