Sometimes it’s fun to just write without having to structure things–and a prompt generator makes that easy!

Image from WikiMedia by dying_grotesque.

Image from WikiMedia by dying_grotesque.

*

She felt for the lock in the dark, the key clutched tightly in her other hand so she wouldn’t drop it. The floor was littered with debris that bumped against her shoes as she carefully probed with her toes, pushing away smaller pieces, stepping over pieces of discarded pipe and lumber, and once, a large piece of porcelain, probably a sink or toilet. The wind rattled tree branches against the boarded over windows outside, the sound dimmed by the walls–she’d been locked into a room without an outside wall or windows.

It was pretty secure, her prison, except for one thing–it only took one mistake, after all. She shied away from the thought, and kept shuffling along the wall, headed for where the door was. The broken light meant she had no choice but to hunt for it, even though it meant she had to move along part of the back wall, all of the left wall, and part of the front wall where the door was. What she might stumble on in the center of the room wasn’t worth the shortcut.

She shuddered, tears leaking out of her tightly shut eyes. They fell without her wiping at them, since she didn’t want to transfer the dirt on her hands to her face. When she opened her eyes, the darkness of the room danced phantoms of color across the void. It was better to keep them shut.

Turning the corner, she picked up speed as much as she dared, but it was still an eternity before she rounded the second corner. The end in sight, she felt for the door frame, and then the metal of the lock. Carefully, her hands shaking and her fingers aching from how tightly she held the key, she aimed the key for the lock.

It didn’t fit.

Rotating the key, she tried again, and this time it slid into the lock. It turned with a quiet click that thundered in her ears, then she twisted the lock open. Blinking back tears of relief, she pulled the lock free and dropped it to the floor. Then she swung the door open, and stepped into the dim light filtering through the boarded-up windows.

Almost there. Almost free.

Down the hallway, to the front door, and then outside, finally, for the first time in several days. She drew in a deep breath, and screamed, “help!”

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About Caitlin Stern

I have a MA in English, and have so many fantasy/urban fantasy WIPs it's not even funny. I'm an avid reader of science fiction, fantasy, mystery, romance, biography, fiction, and anything else that catches my interest. I collect books, and bookmarks I find that are visually appealing and useful.

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