The walk home pt.2

The first thing I remember about waking up was the awful scraping sound.
My eyes remain closed. A golden, orange world floated behind my eyelids.
That sound, every scrape caused my face to screw up.
Like someone dragging a very sharp and large metal object across concrete
receding into the distance.
As the disgusting noise faded, I heard only the slight rustle of leaves and the sound of car engines far in the distance.
I began to get my bearings. First, I tried moving my fingers. The muscles were groggy and stiff.
Then I clenched my hands. The palms were dry and cold. I twitched my legs and slowly listened to my breathing.
I felt my skin touching the hard, stony ground beneath me. I could feel it through my clothes.
I remembered hitting my head and blacking out in front of my house. And the footsteps behind me.

It was at this point I slowly opened my eyes. I remained as still as I lay and as my eyes adjusted
to the darkness I began to drink in my surroundings. I was lying face-down, my head turned to my right.
Around me was a faint orange glow. I could see a long bank leading uphill into darkness. My eyes moved downwards and I saw that I lay upon tarmac.

So, I was in the elevated car park. How I ended up here, I know not. I was too dazed to even think of panic or worry. I attempted to stand up. I turned my head to face the tarmac, brought my knees up to my waist and lifted myself off the ground. I stumbled at first but made a quick recovery, holding my hands
out to balance myself.

There was an entrance in front of me leading downwards to the ground level. To my left, a block of offices all with blackened windows. The gate I heard earlier was silent. It was still night-time although I knew not the hour.



Short story by ttius
Read 721 times
Written on 2014-07-17 at 23:59

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F.i.in.e Moods The PoetBay support member heart!
A chilling account that had me definitely holding my breath. Very nicely written, so descriptive in an impacting way. Bravo!
2014-07-19