By: Mia L. Hazlett
I wondered what the sound was. Although I had never seen a waterfall, if asked to describe what I was hearing, I would answer, a waterfall. And then, the sound faded. Somehow with the absence of sound, my box brightened. I heard a machine of some sort. Maybe a drill. Maybe my death. But, whatever it was, it brought light.
With silence – no waterfall, no drill, no death – I looked to my right. I was still confined to my wooden space with my three dead survivalists. When I looked through the 3-inch drilled hole, I realized I was not buried. I was in the room where we made Cake Leftovers. I was on top of the same table. I don’t know if water has a smell, but it smelled wet. This entire time I thought they had buried me out in the wilderness, never to be found again. Instead, I was in a box and left to my own psychological torture.
Not knowing where I was, was better than knowing who I was with. I guess being buried in the woods, I would have starved to death. I completely assumed – no eating, no drinking –would lead to my death. Maybe all their hearts had to offer was a quick painful death of my now dead foes. I should have become cake leftovers. Instead, I saw three bodies getting closer. They stood in front of the hole blocking the light.
I waited. There was an eye. I stared at revenge. The eye receded, replaced by the tip of a knife.
“My turn,” I heard Footsteps say. No death for me. Just a terrifying existence.
Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett