Trapped, hands tied, mouth taped,
Slowly I grasp consciousness
I open my eyes,
Discover a den –
Earthen ground, soiled sheets undone
On a dirty bed.
The smell makes me sick.
I want to puke. Settle. Think.
Remember what passed.
I wrote this as part of the 32nd Weekly Writing Workshop on Mugstale, exploring the theme “running away”. Click here is you want to read the rest of the story.
Featured image – forest soil. Captured on the 7th of January in Lucinge, France.