… not necessarily sane
I wake in the dark with bruise-like pain around my middle.
In complete darkness, with no sense of what surrounds me, I get to my knees and try to stand.
My eyes strain to see and my ears stretch to hear any sound.
A fluttering and as I recognise movement I notice a soft breeze, salt on my tongue and something else; bats?
Memories of stories – blood sucking, webbed wings and screeching. Are they hiding and waiting; holding their breath? If they cry, my heart will stop.
Bright lights; I scream and scream again at the movement – of sheets from the ceiling.
This is my submission for Friday Fictioneers. Photo credit to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, who kindly runs Friday Fictioneers through her website.
The idea is to fashion a story that has a beginning, middle, and end and within 100 words.