The first in series of unrelated short stories written on the fly, that is, to write them directly to the blog and add to them regularly, risky but fun.
The web we weave
A long pause, and then……silence……..
Somewhere in the distance is the faint sound of a dog howling, you struggle to make out your surroundings but the light is fading fast.
Each cautious step you take forward echoes around you like a steel sheet hitting concrete.
You shudder as a cold tingle goes down your back and take a few more steps in the now almost darkness.
Your still coming to terms with being here, the last thing you remember is eating your lunch on the park bench on a sunny mid morning, but you don’t seem to remember how you got here.
You can hear the sound of dripping water somewhere around you but again the echo makes it sound in a dozen different places.
The air is cold and you wrap your arms around you stepping forward into the gloom.
The next step makes a splash as you step into a puddle, as does the next, your caution overtakes you coldness and you now hold out your arms and hands in front of you feeling your way forward, totally disoriented you take each step hoping there is something to stand on.
Something just moved! To the left of you…….. You stop.
Straining to hear in the silence all you here is the drip echoing………..nothing.
You take another step…..There it is again…….
Your anxiety starts to build into fear and you strain to make out what it is in the darkness, your eyes start playing tricks on you as one second you think you see a dog shape and the next second it looks like a man. You want to run but the fear of falling stops you.
You freeze on the spot waiting for your worst nightmare to happen………
Something has changed! The dripping has stopped, now there is just silence…….. a silence so quiet it’s deafening.
All you can hear is your own breathing, laboured as if you have been running, each step you take becomes precise and purposeful, first your toes to feel if there is something there, then the rest of you foot, you move you weight forward and repeat with the other foot, the total blackness has totally disorientated you, your arms outstretched, fingers sniffing the air looking for something, anything.
This seems to you to go on forever then without warning your fingers touch something cold, you instantly recoil and stand riveted to the spot, your mind imagines what it could be, something cold and slimy, something damp, your mind imagines a scaly skin or a blood covered corpse, cautiously you slowly move your arm forward again, slowly, slowly now shaking you touch the object and quickly poke it and as you do you pull back your arm again, you analyze the result in your head for a moment and establish it’s solid so once more you move you arm forward and with one finger touch the object this time adding more pressure, then two fingers, then both hands, it’s a wall and cold damp wall.
With one step sidewise to the right you move again checking the ground with each step.
When you were small you loved going into a maze, you love the mystery, the exploration of each maze you went to, when you were a bit older you wanted to do it by yourself, without your Mother, and she told you one thing you still remember, that if you ever get lost in the maze, always follow one wall in one direction, you will always find you way out. It may take longer but you will always find the exit.
Subconsciously you find yourself automatically doing this and thinking you can find the way out if you follow this wall in one direction, slowly you move along the wall, your breathing still laboured, you steps still precise, still moving sideways sliding your hands across the wall.
to be continued…………………….
Copyright; Peter Wake