It’s dark and safe here.
But these strands are flourishing, encroaching daily… strands of consciousness that must be avoided at all costs.
And it’s becoming difficult to move around them.
Brushing against one particularly robust strand, she’s swiftly hurtling to the surface.
Can you hear me? I know you’re in there.
Sarah recognises that voice.
Who did this? Do you remember anything?
She forces herself to remain immobile, ignoring the iron grip on her arm.
Soon she drifts to the depths again.
There will be another strand tomorrow, and possibly a different voice at her side.
The truth can wait.
Click on the froggie to join the 100 word story party. Many thanks to Rochelle for her leadership of Friday Fictioneers.