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BANSOD TYPING INSTITUTE GULABRA CHHINDWARA MOB. NO. 8982805777

created Feb 27th, 04:48 by bansod typing


0


Rating

370 words
19 completed
00:00
The subject was trapped, and were supposed to only write about what we were trapped in and our response. I like taking the obvious, even cliche course and then try to do it really well so its not so bad after all. The smell of the wood wakes me. Its fresh wood, rough and in boards, with a smell of resin penetrating my nose. The boards are very close. I instinctively try to move away a little, the smell is nice but strong, but I can't. I can move to my left a bit, and I hear sand grating on wood. My shoes are dragging across more board. Wait. I went to sleep with my shoes on? Thats not right. And my jeans. Ill have to clean up before going off. Off where? I want to rub my eyes when I open them but my arm crashes into something. Damnit my eye is hurting. But I can't see a thing. I try to get up and hurt my head. Where did I fall asleep? Why can't I see? The smell of fresh boards and earth is getting clearer. The feeling of sand underneath me is making me even more uncomfortable, I feel dirty. Then a slow beating of my heart starts to make itself heard. My ears are filled with a noise like wind howling. I press against the boards with force and I can't move. I gasp, and feel the dust entering my mouth. I thrust out with my left arm, my right, I try to turn and force my shoulder up with all my force. I'm panting, a strange feeling of sliding back into a nightmare is taking a hold. Like a fool, I shake myself awake. The grip of fear in my breath is what I wake up to. I try yelling. The sound of my own voice is deafening. More dust is falling from the boards over my head. Why. Where. Im starting to feel numb, my breathing is getting shallower. Maybe it is a dream. Maybe that comfort, that escape is where I wake up. One more surge of panic. Then I will rest. This is not real. Ill wake up. I'm sure of it.

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