I tilted my head back and pointed my face toward the cloud-filled sky. Large, grey puffs danced and swirled overhead. A drop of water unexpectedly landed on my nose. I brought my head forward and wiped up the bead with my finger before it had a chance to spill down my face. I stared at the liquid and a smile erupted on my face. Another droplet landed on the top of my head, cool and wet. It slowly trickled down the part in my hair, leaving behind a trail of tingling skin, as its movement tickled. I reached up with my other hand and scratched it away. Laughing voices caught my attention and for a moment pulled me away from the dripping sky.
The sound of a whisper filled my ears and interrupted my dream. My eyelids fluttered open. The streetlight outside lit my room and I watched as shadows danced across my ceiling. My eyes widened as the shadows moved closer. I turned my head, my mouth opened, but before any sound could escape a hand clamped it shut and my eyes were filled with darkness. I squirmed under the pressure of my arms being held down as my legs tried to kick free from under the blankets. A ripping sound briefly interrupted my efforts. For a second my mouth was freed and I managed to call out before a large piece of tape muffled my cries. My arm jerked as a sharp point pierced the skin of my shoulder.
My muscles eased and relaxed and my movements slowed. The pressure on my arms was released and though I willed them to move and strike out at the nearest object, they lay quietly at my sides. The skin on my cheeks and lips stretched upward as the tape used to seal my mouth was slowly pulled away. I yelled, but the only sound I heard was inside my own head, my voice had been silenced. The blindfold was removed; the dim light returned. Black shadows loomed in front of me, devoid of form or shape – blurred, dark blobs moving in the night. My eyelids slammed shut.
“Move them out!” A voice bellowed. And then there was nothing.
One of the things I have learned about writing is that a story is never complete until your characters tell you it is. The above piece is an addition to a story that I completed last year. As much as I liked the original one, there was something about it that just didn’t sit right. The subject matter was dark and though there was nothing blatant, it was implied. My characters kept interfering and wanted a change. I am now re-writing and I think they are happy. I won’t really know though until it is done.