This is a little something I wrote in class one day. I like to think that it has an unexpected ending but this is the first time I’ve shared or even finished it. Hope you enjoy!
It’s so dark here in this place. So quiet. The silence muffled my world as surely as the blanket I curled in so snuggly. It had been silent here for some time and often, I often wondered if it wasn’t actually muted but I had simply lost my hearing. Perhaps I had gone deaf at some juncture. Surely nothing natural could be so soundless. Maybe it wasn’t always dark and my sight had failed me as well. How was I to ever know? I knew that I had a self, I existed because I had awareness. I was conscious of thought and the lack of sight and sound. So I existed. Now where exactly am I? Am I anywhere? Was it possible to be aware of yourself but not be anywhere, in a defined space? I suppose, logically, I have to be somewhere. Maybe a cave since it was so dark ad quiet. Even caves had some sound, though, didn’t they? Droplets falling from the ceiling and the low, nearly imperceptible hum of air moving through large shafts and caverns in the ground. I had a blanket and I was laying on a hard surface. I got the sense that it was once rather uncomfortable but I suppose I had grown accustomed to it, my nerves dulling to the discomfort. I stretched out my senses one by one, trying to identify my surroundings.
I could smell…wood and lime, the kind that Miss Marta used around the trash bins in the summer when the heat got unbearable, cooking and swelling the garbage until we couldn’t even play outside for the smell. There was a sweet smell beneath it too, something that I didn’t care for at all but couldn’t rightly identify. I was curled up in my blanket snugly but the soft surface I once was so fond of was now somewhat scratchy and faded. It would always be my favorite though, no matter how much I wore it out. Beneath me, the fabric was moist and scratchy, as if I had had an accident and it had dried to a tacky substance. The feel of something crinkly was beneath that still. There was something new now that was piercing my world. Something so unusual that I barely recognized what it was. Sound.
The sound of footsteps and low talking. Well, at least I knew I still had my hearing. The voices were male, two of them from what I could tell and they were approaching me. I couldn’t see them, my world was still black, but I could make out a few worlds here and there.
“…Creepy old place…lots of cool stuff here…”
“Check this out…”
And suddenly there was light, so bright and vivid that I couldn’t make out anything else for some time. I heard the boys startled back and one of them threw up in the corner of the room. When the light cleared, I wish I could have thrown up too. The light filtered in from a window through a thick sheet of plastic surrounding me. I was wrapped in my blanket. The wetness I was laying in hadn’t been an accident, it had been what was left of me, seeping into the bottom. The smell of lime was overpowering but they hadn’t used enough. Not nearly enough.
‘Girl’s Body Found In Attic Chest’
‘Yesterday, the body of an unknown girl was found wrapped in plastic in a wooden chest in an Worcester attic. Officials on the case say that the building had been abandoned for quite some time but had once functioned as a children’s home for displaced orphans. They have determined that whoever killed the child must have been someone she knew because they wrapped her in a pink blanket before shutting her away. Coroners have yet to determine the cause of death…’
I wrote this piece to be based loosely on actual events. In 1949, a girl’s body was found stuffed into a cedar chest in a man’s attic. The article can be found here: http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1955&dat=19490605&id=48khAAAAIBAJ&sjid=LZ4FAAAAIBAJ&pg=3731,1155713