The Awakening

Alex wakes up in a strange place. This is certainly not unusual for him, but this time it is very unusual. Where is he? How did he arrive there? The situation only gets worse, but just how bad does it get? I suppose we'll have to wait and see.
I've left this very open ended to stimulate the imaginations of my readers. This is my first creative work and I'm curious to hear your feedback! This is a solo work for now because I think I may develop it further, but it could certainly go collaborativ

The lack of light was frightening, and the wet floor was cold and hard against his back. Staring up at what he could only assume to be the ceiling, Alex squinted and strained his eyes, unable to make out little more than shadows. The irregular rhythm of droplets striking a pool of water somewhere nearby was periodically drowned out by the groaning sound of metal flexing. It creaked like a giant door hinge, then gave way to a far more guttural rumble that could be felt vibrating in the floor beneath him until it dissipated again, allowing the droplets to resume their song.

He struggled to sit up, cold water shocking him as it trickled down his back and into the seat of his pants. The surprise of icy water down his pants was quickly overpowered by searing pain. The sickness hit him hard, like a knife to the gut. This was not a feeling completely foreign to him in these situations, but it was particularly sharp this time and forced him back to the floor. This was not right. There was something wrong. Something new.

“Ugh, God,” he groaned, clutching his stomach and writhing as the metal floor beneath him rumbled once more. A brief sigh of relief escaped him as the pain receded slightly, quickly replaced by a wave of distress.

He sat up quickly this time, taking advantage of the waning pain in his stomach. Desperate to figure out where he’d ended up, Alex scanned the room. His eyes had adjusted to the negligible amount of light, and he could make out walls and the ceiling. The room was vast, empty, except for a pile of heavy looking steel chains heaped in one corner. A cold, barren space, longer than it was wide, with the nearest end sporting a heavy steel hatch door and the other fading inconclusively into enveloping blackness.

As Alex surveyed the heavy steel door, its hand-wheel began to turn. The deafening screech of the ancient latch mechanism was unbearable. Still sitting on the floor, now overwhelmed with panic, he used his hands to pull himself back, away from the hatch. This burst of activity produced agonizing pain in his stomach that drove him flat to the floor once more, but adrenaline drove him back to an upright position just as the hinges began to creak softly and the hatch swung open in a slow, steady arc.

The weight of the door was considerable, and obvious in its long journey. Light flooded the room with every inch the door moved, effectively blinding Alex. Supporting himself on one hand and shielding his eyes with the other, he was able to make out a silhouetted figure in the doorway. Large and imposing, the man in the hatch cast a dark shadow over him. He held a long bladed machete in one massive hand, while the other nervously clenched and unclenched a large fist.

“Carlin?”  He paused for what seemed an eternity. “Alex Carlin?” The man’s voice boomed, echoing throughout the long chamber. The groan of metal shook the floor again, this time accompanied by loud, erratic knocking sounds. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Gripped by a new wave of pain in his stomach, Alex writhed uncontrollably on the floor, groans of agony his only response to the man’s inquiries. The man silently stooped to pick up a thick coil of rope and slung it over his thick shoulder, then passed through the doorway, closing the hatch behind him with little effort.

Paralyzed with fear and pain, Alex’s thoughts drifted to his mother for a moment before a large hand violently grabbed one of his ankles and dragged him off into the darkness of the other end of the room.


The End

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