He groans as the corkscrews are twisted, their points aiming for his liver and kidneys. In a nightmare, it is the awareness of what is happening rather than the act itself that brings agony.
Paralyzed, nonetheless Mo is able to wake up – to pitch black. Was there a power outage?
Bathed in sweat, Mo feels for the bedside flashlight and places his hand on a cold slimy tongue.
His shadow says, “Dinner isn’t served just yet.”
Mo rolls away from the raspy voice and finds he’s not on his bed as he falls and clunks hard on what feels like wet, smooth stone. He begins to crawl away to his shadow’s laughter.
“Fear tenderizes the meat!”
He will die – or worse – here.
F*ck that, he decides. Bright light floods down.
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream.
Bjorn Rudberg is today’s host of dVerse. Bjorn says:
Your piece of prose can be fiction or autobiographic, but you are only allowed to use 144 words (which means that you need to add maximum137 words that are your own, using the following line from Ms. Maya Angelou’s poem, “Caged Bird:”
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream