United States

See that girl kneeling next to the bookshelf in the library? She's whispering the book titles to herself. That's me. Back away slowly, and then run.


March 27, 2019


    She clutched at the absence of the mica necklace as they threw her in. Her fingers grasped nothing but air, and she landed hard on the cold ground. The door slammed shut with a clang, and she was lost in the darkness. Were her eyes closed or open? She made an attempt at both but could tell no difference.
    “Who’s there?” A hoarse voice cried out. It had come from her right.
    She began to crawl towards the voice, calling back, “Just a thief!” Her hand touched cold, solid wall. Putting her hands out, she felt a corner of wall and turned herself around.
    “A Thief? Not The Thief? Is this a celebrity prison?” The voice laughed before dying off into a hacking cough. She crawled toward the sound of the voice, an itch of familiarity nagging at her all the while. Somewhere, somehow, she had heard this voice before. Male, hoarse, much deeper than the last time she had known it...she had heard so many voices that it was impossible to pick out this one from the masses. All the same, the recognition itched at her like a mosquito bite.
    “Gah-” Her hand made contact with something soft and fleshy. The source of the voice, she thought, most likely his nose.
    “That’s fine.” She could hear him rustle in the dark. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
    “Might be.” She felt a wall and leaned against it, finally allowing the pain in. Her feet throbbed, and she could feel a trickle of blood on her arm. “Who are you?”
    Silence, and then-"I couldn't really say right now. Who were you?"
    She sighed, resting her head against the wall. "A kid."
Scrap of a failed story.


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