Warmth enveloped Shirley's body. The light blinded her to what was in her closet as she walked forward. It was almost as if she was under a spell. She expected to wake up at any moment. Then, as quickly as she had lost it, she gained full control of her body.
She found herself in a dark room. She could hear the little girl's voice whimpering for help clearly now. She couldn't see any thing except for spots of color in an otherwise dark and cold room. Shirley blinked a few times to jar her eyes into focus.
Slowly, she was able to make out the room. It was very small. There was just enough room for the bed and dresser. The paint on the walls were peeling and the putty on the ceiling was stained. On the floor at the end of the bed, right next to the closet, was a little girl. She was chained to the bed frame with a very thick chain that looked long enough to give her free roam of the room. The girl was still crying and had failed to notice her.
Shirley felt the need to comfort this obviously neglected and abused child. She started towards the little girl. That is when the girl noticed her. With a squeak and a start the girl pushed herself into the corner where the bed met the wall and curled up into the fetal position. Only her eyes and the patch of knotted brown curly hair were visible from behind her legs. Shirley could read the terror in those eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment