I blink.
I’m sinking. I’m drowning. This sea of cords. This flash of light. The sensation of falling. Fill my soul with the emptiness of everything.
The idiot who assigned me to this rig was heavy on the bottle, his speech thick with slurs and hiccups like a troubled road.
“You sure I’ll be okay up there?” I questioned him feverishly, my palms wet with indignant nervousness.
“Why wouldn’t ya be? It’s just a box.”
“People die in elevators all the time.” Stubbornness poisoned my lungs, charcoal forged from a immovable mountain.
“Not 32A.” He belched, back to his Jim Bean in a blip.
Adam took the fruit from Eve. He took the bait; he was foolish. His world turned upside down in a sick twist of fate. Eden is still smoldering.
Madam, I’m Adam, I whispered to myself. The sound of that palindrome was soothing amid the destruction that swallowed my surroundings. Those words can be spelled the same either way, reversible, interchangeable. This instance was permanent, however.
There wouldn’t be an exit.
Snap. The inhuman squelch of wire echoed throughout the lone chamber. My grip was completely severed from its intended location. The end was nigh.
I blink once more.
I’m in a hospital bed, surrounded by candied flowers. A flick of blue eyes, like cerulean embers. A smirk.
“Look alive, sunshine.”
Oh, the irony.
It takes the darkest of tragedies for love to come back running, doesn’t it?
Life is an elevator, and we’re all ascending and descending, but one snip of our wires can change everything.
I’m sinking. I’m drowning. This sea of cords. This flash of light. The sensation of falling. Fill my soul with the emptiness of everything.
The idiot who assigned me to this rig was heavy on the bottle, his speech thick with slurs and hiccups like a troubled road.
“You sure I’ll be okay up there?” I questioned him feverishly, my palms wet with indignant nervousness.
“Why wouldn’t ya be? It’s just a box.”
“People die in elevators all the time.” Stubbornness poisoned my lungs, charcoal forged from a immovable mountain.
“Not 32A.” He belched, back to his Jim Bean in a blip.
Adam took the fruit from Eve. He took the bait; he was foolish. His world turned upside down in a sick twist of fate. Eden is still smoldering.
Madam, I’m Adam, I whispered to myself. The sound of that palindrome was soothing amid the destruction that swallowed my surroundings. Those words can be spelled the same either way, reversible, interchangeable. This instance was permanent, however.
There wouldn’t be an exit.
Snap. The inhuman squelch of wire echoed throughout the lone chamber. My grip was completely severed from its intended location. The end was nigh.
I blink once more.
I’m in a hospital bed, surrounded by candied flowers. A flick of blue eyes, like cerulean embers. A smirk.
“Look alive, sunshine.”
Oh, the irony.
It takes the darkest of tragedies for love to come back running, doesn’t it?
Life is an elevator, and we’re all ascending and descending, but one snip of our wires can change everything.
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