Dearest Miss Jane? | Teen Ink

Dearest Miss Jane?

April 13, 2011
By Bka341997 GOLD, Bigfork, Montana
Bka341997 GOLD, Bigfork, Montana
11 articles 0 photos 27 comments

Favorite Quote:
Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take but by the moments that take our breath away!

Awakening. I try to stretch but my hands are bound. The walls are gray, cement. A single bulb dangles from the ceiling. The bed I lay upon is hard as stone. I scream, but no one comes.

I struggle to sit up. As I did I saw a door: a solid, fierce looking, metal door. It had a window in it, near the top. I couldn’t see threw it, but I had a feeling that anyone on the other side could see me.

I tried to stand up and failed. I fell onto the cement floor, hard. I couldn’t breath, but soon regained control of my respiration. I couldn’t get up so I just laid there, on the cold concrete.

I heard metal moving. The door was opining. I would have bulted for it, but I still couldn’t get up. I stayed put.

In came a bald, short man wearing yellow spectacles. He wore a suit and carried a notebook crammed with crumpled parchment. He looked at me lying on the floor. He gave no reaction. It was like me on the floor was normal.

“Ah,” he said “Bad morning, no? I assume you have no idea what’s going on?”

I shook my head no.

He shook his head to, smiling. “Oh, Dearest Miss Jane it’s going to be a long day.”

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