Your first breath comes in a gasp, filling your ears with sound. For exactly half a second you think you’re in bed, but soon that leaves too as your spine starts to bend backwards with nothing to support it. Nothing anywhere. Zip. Nada.
Twist. Writhe. Try to right yourself. Soon you realize there is no writing yourself. There is no right way up. There is no up.
Deep breathe. There’s air. Or at least, you can breathe. You’re not suffocating, which is always a good sign. Your heart is pounding though. Not sure if that’s because your overdosing on adrenaline, or just because you can’t hear anything else.
Listen.
No you can’t hear anything else.
Listen.
Wait. there’s something. A soft pulsing. The low squelch of toothpaste coming out of a tube. It’s moving in time with your hearbeat. Thump. Swish. Thump. Swish. Thump. Swish. It’s your blood.
Stop listening.
Right. There’s nothing as far as the eye can see. In any direction. But you have to be somewhere, right? You can’t be nowhere. And someone… or something… had to have brought you here. You certainly weren’t here yesterday. Yesterday Mom was frantic trying to put together thanksgiving dinner. All the grandparents are coming this year, along with several cousins, and she had to clean and cook and re-align the paintings in the upstairs bathroom while making three trips out to Meijer just to make sure she had the right flavor of smoked ham, and you just tried to stay out of her way.
Crap.
Won’t be here long, then. If you miss the dinner Mom’s gonna find you — no matter how deep in the void you are — and murder you.
Although upside, you don’t have to talk to your relatives now. Mom will make it a quick death, to be sure.
You try to think of solutions. Have a goal-oriented mindset. That’s Mr. Hasset tells you in your counseling sessions. “It helps you focus on what’s important instead of your pain.”
Your pain always seemed important though. Less so now, but before this…
But still. Solutions…
…Solutions.
Prayer?
Interdimentional meditation?
Does God have roaming charges?
Maybe Franklin Reed will rip a hole in the Marvel Multiverse and pull you home. If not home, maybe Earth 616? It’s not home but living with the Fantastic Four could be cool.
At the very least, copyright laws probably don’t hold up in a trans-dimensional space.
You curl up and close your eyes. There’s nothing here to look at anyway. Your mind wanders, and suddenly you feel very alone.
Hello! Bit of a longer one this time. This wasn’t so much a writing exercise as it was me trying to push through writer’s block. I’m also gonna try to get a bit longer pieces up here than I was doing before, but that means I’ll probably only be posting around twice a week. What do you guys think? Should I keep up the daily writing exercises? Let me know in the comments below!
Creative Mine 