hostage
tree hugger
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
A wrinkle in space was all it took for the carrier to escape. He dropped his load, three giant coffins, into the world, willing them to land together. He looked on as the coffins fell, then backed away. “I told you not to do this,” he said to himself. Then, a black fist grabbed him by the throat, dragging him into the abyss, back to where the Creator stood. Judgement was near, and the carrier would soon meet his end. But the three coffins went unnoticed, three specks of black as they hurtled towards Earth.
Petr
He was falling. Down, down, down into the abyss of night. He felt a strange calmness, a feeling that was strange to someone who was moments away from dying. Suddenly, the ground rose up, jagged rocks glaring at the boy. He had just enough time to let out a yelp before smashing into one. He heard a snap as his collarbone broke. The injury wasn’t life threatening, but what came next was. As he rolled off of the first rock, gravity finished its job. The boy knew that this was the end. Another boulder came out of nowhere, and his head hit it straight on. And he was dead. Gone.
Petr woke up with a start. He jolted up, only to bang his shoulder and feel a streak of pain fly up his arm. Sweat dripped down his back, and his head whipped around, trying to gain his bearings. Suddenly, like a switch going off, his vision cleared. He took a long look around him.
He was in a room. A bare, unfurnished room. And, looking down, he seemed to be in some sort of container. Strips of wire were stuck to his arms and legs, but he had clothing on. Petr blinked and tried to stand up. His legs wobbled like a newborn fawn’s, and he collapsed.
Petr managed to drag himself out of where he lay, then sat on the floor of the room, which seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dust. He got his legs underneath him, and stood up. That was when he realized that he had not been in just any container. He had been in a coffin. Petr let out a yelp of surprise, and stumbled back, only to find that his foot landed on empty air. He went tumbling down a set of stairs, then thudding to the ground.
Petr lay there for what seemed like hours, his already weak body screaming out in pain. Finally, he rolled over and got on all fours. He coughed, the dryness of his throat now coming to his attention. His elbows were slick with blood, and there were various cuts and bruises that he could now see along his body, though the boy did not know whether they were from his fall or... before that.
He came to the realization that he was in a house. He stood, leaning against the wall for support, then took a few steps forward. The residence that he was in seemed to have been abandoned. Dust covered the floors, and the plastered walls were chipping away. By some miracle, Petr entered another space, which turned out to be a kitchen. His throat was already screaming, and he limped to the sink. Muttering a quick plea, he turned the wheel, and waited for water to come.
There was quite a but of shaking and groaning before water finally arrived. It poured out of the faucet, splashing into Petr’s face. He cared naught that it was a dirty brown, and quickly downed as much as he could. He filled his stomach, pressing a hand against his and licking his lips. Feeling a bit stronger, Petr made his way to what looked like the front door. With a bit of straining, he pushed it open. A muted light hit his face, and he blinked. Suddenly, he bent over and threw up. The water in his stomach splattered across the pavement, and he stumbled back inside, cursing in Czech. That was when he realized. The world was silent. No familiar shouting of children, nor the purr of car engines. Quiet. That gave him time to think. Was he in hell?
He was falling. Down, down, down into the abyss of night. He felt a strange calmness, a feeling that was strange to someone who was moments away from dying. Suddenly, the ground rose up, jagged rocks glaring at the boy. He had just enough time to let out a yelp before smashing into one. He heard a snap as his collarbone broke. The injury wasn’t life threatening, but what came next was. As he rolled off of the first rock, gravity finished its job. The boy knew that this was the end. Another boulder came out of nowhere, and his head hit it straight on. And he was dead. Gone.
Petr woke up with a start. He jolted up, only to bang his shoulder and feel a streak of pain fly up his arm. Sweat dripped down his back, and his head whipped around, trying to gain his bearings. Suddenly, like a switch going off, his vision cleared. He took a long look around him.
He was in a room. A bare, unfurnished room. And, looking down, he seemed to be in some sort of container. Strips of wire were stuck to his arms and legs, but he had clothing on. Petr blinked and tried to stand up. His legs wobbled like a newborn fawn’s, and he collapsed.
Petr managed to drag himself out of where he lay, then sat on the floor of the room, which seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dust. He got his legs underneath him, and stood up. That was when he realized that he had not been in just any container. He had been in a coffin. Petr let out a yelp of surprise, and stumbled back, only to find that his foot landed on empty air. He went tumbling down a set of stairs, then thudding to the ground.
Petr lay there for what seemed like hours, his already weak body screaming out in pain. Finally, he rolled over and got on all fours. He coughed, the dryness of his throat now coming to his attention. His elbows were slick with blood, and there were various cuts and bruises that he could now see along his body, though the boy did not know whether they were from his fall or... before that.
He came to the realization that he was in a house. He stood, leaning against the wall for support, then took a few steps forward. The residence that he was in seemed to have been abandoned. Dust covered the floors, and the plastered walls were chipping away. By some miracle, Petr entered another space, which turned out to be a kitchen. His throat was already screaming, and he limped to the sink. Muttering a quick plea, he turned the wheel, and waited for water to come.
There was quite a but of shaking and groaning before water finally arrived. It poured out of the faucet, splashing into Petr’s face. He cared naught that it was a dirty brown, and quickly downed as much as he could. He filled his stomach, pressing a hand against his and licking his lips. Feeling a bit stronger, Petr made his way to what looked like the front door. With a bit of straining, he pushed it open. A muted light hit his face, and he blinked. Suddenly, he bent over and threw up. The water in his stomach splattered across the pavement, and he stumbled back inside, cursing in Czech. That was when he realized. The world was silent. No familiar shouting of children, nor the purr of car engines. Quiet. That gave him time to think. Was he in hell?
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
coded by [COLOR=#34495E]@DeerPrince[/COLOR]
Last edited: