August 16, 2016 by Lyn
Well, “plow on ahead” has always been your motto. You take a breath, unsure what’s in the air, and run straight ahead, following the creepy ghost-like things.
Something like wet tissue paper brushes your skin, leaving trails of slime behind; you keep running. Disembodied arms grab for you and pull your hair; you keep running. You bump into an invisible wall, bounce, gasping hard for air, pick a direction – left, left makes sense – and keep running.
You never see the hole that catches your foot and sends you sprawling, and you’re certain that there wasn’t a slide here before, but the floor is angling downwards sharply, and you’re heading face-first down a slick slope, all the air knocked out of you.
It’s possible that you scream.
Strong arms catch you, and the nicest man you’ve ever met sets you gently on your feet. You stammer out your thanks, and he just smiles. He’s good looking, in a cheerful boy-next-door sort of way, and if he’s a little pale against all that dark hair, well, this place is a basement, after all.
“It was nothing,” he says. His voice is the most heavenly thing you’ve ever heard. “But perhaps you could do something for me in return?”
If you say “Sure!” click here.
If you say “What sort of thing?” click here.