The next thing I knew, I was leaning up against a light post with my hands tied behind me and around the pole. It was dark, and the very dim light that the post offered didn't help me see through the wall of fog.
Chester sat, slumped over, his wrists tied around a light post with a piece of rope. The dim light made an orange shroud around Chester amidst the thick fog. He looked around and immediately began struggling with the rope. He frantically called out, "Hello? Is anyone out there?" He leaned his head back down, looking at the tear on the knee of his jeans, dried blood resting around the opening from when he had fallen earlier. "Damn you, Steven," he grumbled to himself. Chester looked up into the fog-covered sky that lingered above him.
After a while, the sun began to rise, and the fog began to disappear, allowing the bright sun to fully shine down on Chester. He looked around at his surroundings, trying to find anything that could possibly give him a clue as to where he was. To his disappointment, the only things he could see were the pole he was tied to and an old building looking to be uninhabited.
The way the fog had hung around me, blocking my view of anything and everything, in a way, had been mocking me. I had been in a solitary bubble. It was as if I had died and been dropped off in a barren wasteland in which I would spend eternity, alone, and slowly be driven into insanity. I was so grateful when the fog finally dispersed, but as the hot sun began to burn my frail skin, I actually sort of missed the fog.
Chester, his face already turning a bright red from sunburn, began to struggle with the rope again. "If I could just loosen it," he said aloud to himself, "maybe I could escape." He cringed as the tight rope rubbed at the skin along his wrists. Beads of sweat had already begun to form along his forehead.
It was really hot.
He yelled out in frustration, "Help! Someone, help! Anyone! Help me! I'm stuck!" He slumped down in the defeat. "I hate my life."