Snap. You are in a box. The walls glimmer white with a fluorescent shimmer. Looking around, you can see that your cage contains no door, no windows. In a panic you seek a small crack that could indicate a hidden escape, to no avail. A bead of sweat drops through your field of vision and your insides become constricted, claustrophobia is coming. Where are you?

Nobody knows.

For ten minutes you lose your cool for hours, focused on  a desperate endeavour. A tight space, the uniformity of colour creates a sense it could extend indefinitely. Until you attempt to walk forwards, that is. You’re shaking now, feverishly confused, a need for space. What could they want with you?

Nobody knows.

Look down at your hands. You appear brittle. Veins protrude despite an obvious lack of vitality. You’re naked, alarmingly. The light is too penetrating for you. Seek calm. You drop foetal into an imperceptible corner and close your eyes. It’s comforting, though an organic pink sheen remains in your vision. The light is too penetrating for you. It serves as respite nonetheless. Taking notice of a shallow breath you attempt to restore rationality, do you think there is a reason you are here? Surely so. Calm yourself with this fiction, retract behind your eyes until the stress of captivity overcomes you. Drift into the next fiction, rest restless, rest forgetful of the predicament facing you in reality.

Snap. You are awake. The light is low. Flickering movements enlighten your fingers to the bracken beneath you. Knee-jerk, are you still in a dream? I shall tell you that you are not; Rise unto your toes, free doom awaits for you.

Standing is difficult. On the way up an invisible demon bit your leg, conjuring a hearty curse and pushing you back to a knee. As your spine straightens upwards uncontrollable tremors amass within in a steadfast rebellion against effort. You have to ignore it. Become aware of your surroundings. Your eyes come up, snapping the air imprisoned in the back of your neck.

The white glows with a vexed fluorescence. You are in a box. How can you escape? Nobody knows.

Snap. Here you are again.

Written by RJP

Freelance writer of fiction (poetry, short stories and - one day - novels) and non-fiction articles. To date, the majority of work on display has been random items of practice that seek to test the limits of imagination whilst attempting to weave various ideas on society and the pursuit of understanding in as cryptic a manner as possible. Stay tuned.

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