This prompt was taken from the web site of Writer’s Digest. If you ever need inspiration you can just go to their prompts page and let your fingers fly. I am going to start the story. Continue the story by writing in the comments section. The minimum length of your response should be at least 250 words. I’m writing 500 to get it rolling.
Prompt: You wake up shackled to a chair and can’t remember how you got there. Two voices are talking. You recognize one of them.
The smell of musk, sweat and damp fill my nose as the room blurs, spins and slowly sharpens into focus. It wasn’t until I tried to reach up to brush the sticky strands of hair that were nearly choking me away from my mouth that I realizied that I was shackled. It wasn’t just my hands, either. My feet, as well, were bound is in rusty, ramshakle restraints that cut into my skin like razorwire. As my stomach churned, I regret looking down. The shackles had cut so deeply into my ankles that dried blood was caked on my feet, coated by a wet frosting of fresh blood that spurted when I moved. I reluctantly choked back my vomit, knowing that if I threw up, I would bleed more, then throw up more, starting a cycle that I couldn’t stop. Then, voices… first distant then nearing… closer… closer… whoever they were and for whatever reason they had done this to me, they were coming. And I don’t think that the cuts on my wrists and ankles were the worst of what they had in mind for me. I should have known that it would catch up to me sooner or later. After all, the devil always gets his due, right? That has to be true for the devil’s mistress too. Recognizing one of the voices as my lover’s I knew that I had definitely gotten into bed with the wrong demon.
It all started innocently enough, in fact just about as innocently as you can get… in church. The bells rang loud that day, louder than usual because I had a massive hangover. It was one of those “good daughter” days, when I buckled down and did what any good, single girl would do… agree to meet a guy my mother was trying to match me with. A bit of history, mom has the worst of taste in men. First there was the tall, awkward, socially inept one whose idea of a great time was me at my house, him at his and a date in the far off land that he created just for me in Second Life. What a romantic. Then there was the manic-depressive. I guess you could say our dates were up and down. One time literally up and down. He took me to an amusement park. One minute he was screaming and laughing on the thrill rides, the next in a deep dark funk because he could knock down those damn bottles and win me a bear. So imagine my surprise when I met my mystery guy. Hobbies: Traveling, sailing, fishing… ok, normal, normal and normal. Mental health: Seems stable. All right, this guy may be a go. Well after the Amen, I found a much darker side to Mr. Wonderful. Of course, I loved it for awhile.
Your turn!
