Quick Write: PitFall

This is just a quick scenario. I never actually finished the entry.

I stooped low, no longer able to stand upright, due to this narrowing, dark, sultry, dungeon of a cave. Still, it wasn’t going that badly, and I needed the artifact.

That’s when the ground opened up.

I scrabbled for a hold on the walls, rocks tumbling all about; the air whistled whistled louder, louder, as I fell, faster faster. My eyes watered, my limbs flailed… And then I relaxed.

After all, there wasn’t much I could do about it.

I became acutely aware of every indentation, every imperfection in the stone around me, despite the fact that it was whizzing past me so fast, my eyes barely recognized what they saw. I couldn’t hear anything, despite the boulders bouncing and scraping on the walls. It was almost peaceful… quiet… serene.

I waited for something to happen.

Homework

Grown- ups think “How hard could it be?” It could be very, very hard. They think you go to an enjoyable day at school, learning the information the world has to offer. You then go home and practice a little in each subject and take the rest of the day off.

There could not be a worse representation of the facts. You learn nothing in school. You go home and stay up till, oh, eleven thirty or so, and go to bed. There is no free time.

The homework isn’t fun either. No, it is quite possibly the bane of my existence. Hour after hour, the only sound in my house is the sound of my pencil scratching on paper. Scritch, scritch. I hate it. Hours upon hours of boredom. Desolation. Silence.

I wake up the next day, and all I have to look forward to is more of the same.

Oh summer, where are you? I fear I may be going insane. Maybe I already am.

Halloween Front porch.

Johnny had gotten his pillowcase half full of Halloween candy. He came to the next house, already on a sugar high, though he wasn’t nearly done getting his beloved candy yet.

This next house seemed different from the rest. It wasn’t decorated, nor did it seem inhabited.
As Johnny walked up the steps, he began to feel as if he was moving backward even though he clearly wasn’t. He looked down and he could have sworn he saw the ground churning beneath his feet, though he knew it was only his imagination. He began to see faces in the old, mottled bricks that made the walls of the house. It seemed as if they were pressed against the wall, straining to get out.

Despite all this, he kept moving, determined to get his candy.

Suddenly, the feeling of moving backward reversed. He flew toward the door. The ground, no longer thrashing aimlessly, began to methodically roll him closer to the house. Panicked, he scrambled to get away, but it’s hard to run when the very ground is working against you. The faces in the bricks stopped straining and started grinning as if expecting a long awaited dinner. They were famished. A delicious ten year old would do nicely.

Slowly,

Ever so slowly,

The front door creaked open…