The golden bell tick echoed in my mind; the hand cloaked by darkness. As if given an order my eyes opened, the orbs of my eyes rolling upwards, the majority of the brown covered by my eyelid that still hadn’t realized it was time to wake up. My body was sluggish, my throat dry. The darkness surrounded me as I let out a small cry. So it was a dream, a wonderful, horrible dream. Of course, it was; yet it was one of the most vivid dreams I’ve had in years. My fingers brushed against the ground below, before I froze. My fingers curled around the surface I felt, tugging roughly as whatever I held easily slipped away from the ground below. My frail fingers rolled the strands I held, slowly bringing my hand toward me as my eyes tried to peer through the darkness. Grass? Yes, blades of grass. When was the last time I ran through a field of grass as the sunlight gazed down on my back? I slowly let them drop between the gaps of my fingers as my hands found the ground once more, my brain slowly waking up. Pushing myself upwards, I let out a wheeze, feeling as if this was the first time I had moved in months. I could feel my cuts reopening, yet I felt no blood. Slowly I turned my head, realizing I was lacking the rags that I wore. Boundless white bandages wrapped around my body, so thick that I couldn’t see the red that was surely staining it. The cold slipped through the cracks of the cloth, brushing against my body and sending a shiver through me. Slowly I began to explore, making sure that my body was not harmed. My hands wiggled, fingers digging down into the ground, dirt filling underneath my fingernails. Shifting my body, my stomach pressing against the dirt as my legs slowly raised themselves towards my head, which only made me let out a gasp of pain; movement was possible but clearly needed to be limited. And yet, no matter where I was, I could feel the happiness of hope flood my vision once more. Perhaps I shouldn’t, yet I choked back tears that decided to slip down my cheeks anyway. It was as if I couldn’t contain myself, I sat upwards without any thought, rolling my shoulders slightly; scabs stretching and peeling. I was always adjusted to the darkness when the cold winter nights would sweep the poor little flame that kept me away from the shadows. This was no different, I was accustomed to the darkness, I knew the pain of getting up.

Slowly, I stood, my body swaying ever so slightly as if it were a leaf twisting in the wind. Staggering to the left, my hand reached subconsciously to grab at the air, yet it felt the cool touch of metal. I could feel my eyes widen as they quickly shifted to the side. bars painted gold stretched around me like a birdcage, my eyes slowly traveling up chipping paint till it all connected at the top. Dangling from a hook was a large bell, its string holding the ball that truly made the bell ring ticked softly, like a grandfather clock. Leaving a dungeon to enter a cage; how fitting. My heart had been battered by false hope so much, it made it easy for despair to slip in through the cracks and infect my mind. I pulled myself away from the bars to fully examine the environment, my eyes searching for a way out. Poles knitted together so tightly that it didn’t offer the choice of slipping through; yet it was much more spacious than I was used to, stretching on so far that I could hardly see the faint outline of the end. How bittersweet of me to be excited at the thought of once more running through a field. Or perhaps this was my punishment, drifting from one inescapable place to the next, letting my heart fill with hope and be crushed with despair. Whoever thought of it had to be some sort of genius. My hand went to the curls on my head, noticing the difference as the blood-stained nails ran through the dark. For one thing, it seemed they were washed, as when I felt the hair, it wasn’t the same matted mess, but instead the hair I knew from long ago. Yet another noticeable difference was found, as my fingers continued to explore, I found it had been cut. Eyes widening slightly, my other hand reached for the back of my head to find the curls dangling barely brushing against my neck.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Vanity crept up my throat as I could only imagine what I looked like now; the curls I had been painstakingly growing since I was smaller and refused to cut even though it offered a home for all the bugs and critters in the dungeon with me gone, taken away by someone I hadn’t even met. Tears welled up in my eyes once more as I silently cursed at myself. I wasn’t sure why I was crying, perhaps it was that the curls reminded me of home, or that now I was scared to even see my reflection in daylight for what would stare back at me. And yet there was some anticipation, vanity truly was my worst sin. At least the dungeon had a mirror, yet all I could do was force my eyes to stare into the painted gold, searching for some kind of reflection that never appeared. It was odd, because there should have been a hint of my appearance, even just a silhouette or a blurred image, yet there was nothing. I dragged myself away from the golden bars, as I knew I could spend hours searching for it; my head swamped that I hadn’t even gotten my priorities completely straight. It did not matter how I looked if I starved in this birdcage. My body still felt the toll of the injuries, even if the bandages kept me from bleeding too much, my eyes half-closed as if they could drop like a curtain at any moment to leave the actress in darkness. It was tempting to rest on the lush green of the ground that provided a luxury I hadn’t felt in a while. Yet I knew if I were to lay my head, I wouldn’t have the energy to get back up. The thought of giving up was enough to keep me moving, although my body was slugging along begrudgingly as if annoyed that I hadn’t wanted to rest it yet.

My throat ached as if it had finally gotten dry enough to where the skin cracked and peeled. I could imagine the red blood sliding down my throat, slowly suffocating me as I choked on my own blood. I shuddered at the thought, and perhaps I had been too greedy. While the dungeon was cold and dark and the birdcage was light and warm, at least the dungeon had guards to protect me, food to be eaten, and water. And while I spent most of my time in misery there, I had always had the option to live or to die. To eat or to starve. Yet here, that didn’t seem to be an option, as there was no entrance in which anyone could bring a plate of food in, the bars so tightly wound together that there would be no hope of putting your arm through, let alone a glass of water. My eyes closed as my feet dragged against the green, the soft blades, cold against the bare skin of my feet. My brain had run with this information and ran with it, telling me that there was no hope. My body seemed to get heavier and heavier, and yet I knew I mustn't sleep. Eyes forced open once more, I found myself in the center of the area; body so tired not even realizing the change of terrain. The green was gone, making way for a circle roughly the size of a car on each size. It made me believe it was perfect, so smooth. It looked as if the tips of the blades of grass had been cut so that nothing would enter. And here I was, leaving tracks in the one thing I had found even slightly perfect, no matter if it was a lie or not I had tried to ruin it. Exhaling softly as my fingers dropped downwards, fingers curled up slightly towards the palm. Slowly I felt my knees give way as I fell, a dust cloud smoothing out underneath me, barely reaching over my ankles yet I felt as if I could get lost in its dust storm. My mind was slowly chipping away at me, trying to convince me to give in. it was a wonder, how I had held out for so long, yet this is what it wanted to do me in. A Hell, surely I was dead. The creature of insanity had shattered my mind and dragged me to the depths of Hell; my weak body lying against the soft dirt that comforted my body, I heard a clang from the metal, but my eyes were already closing, once more succumbing to the inky darkness of the land with no dreams.