HOME | DD

Description
My back slammed into a hard, uneven surface. For a moment I braced myself against it, taking deep breaths, trying to orient myself. After a few moments I dared to open my eyes. Darkness met them.

That's okay, I told myself. They told you they didn't know the situation you'd be in. They told you they didn't know where you'd come out. And now that you're here, what do you do...?

Tentatively I stretched out my hands to either side of me. Almost immediately they encountered a smooth, cool surface. I pressed against it and it refused to give. Hard. Tentatively I rapped a knuckle against it. It made a short knocking noise. Still hard. Not like wood. An inorganic substance, then. A man-made wall.

Okay. Now what do you do? I reached out my hands in front of me. They encountered nothing. Cautiously I stood up, taking my weight off of the surface (wall?) to my back. Still nothing. I took a step forward. My fingers hit a wall.

I could feel my breath coming fast again. Surrounded on all four sides by a wall. The sounds and feeling of the air corroborated that conclusion. Everything was still and silent. I was alone. Cut off.

Trapped.

No. Is there any way out? There could be. I ran my fingers lightly over the cool surface. I encountered a bar, which I pushed, but it did nothing. I kept exploring. A hard, rough floor. The wall I had had my back to was smooth at the bottom but strangely cut into and raised out of in the middle. I reached up, feeling above my head. More walls. A ceiling. Trapped.

I panicked. I struck out senselessly at the walls around me, fists closed tight. In desperation I threw a straight punch, everything I had, one of the cool walls. But instead of the same knocking sound as my other hits had made, I heard a loud shatter. Sharp fragments cascaded onto me, slicing my knuckles open.

My fist passed through the wall.

Immediately I withdrew my injured hand, cradling it to my chest. Glass. How had I been so stupid? Well, the answer was a bit obvious. I had only seen glass a few times, at the museums. And I had never gotten to touch it. Why would I? But I had seen videos of what happened when it broke. Heard recordings of the shattering sound it made. Glass.

A cool breeze whispered in through the broken wall. I felt it touch my cheeks. Like a promise. Like new hope. I could start to make out dim lights, set up high in the darkness. More tall walls. I remembered my lessons. Buildings. A street.

Starting out with a bleeding hand was not a good idea. But it also made me bold. I had panicked once. I would not do it again.

But first, I had to get out of here.

Description
My back slammed into a hard, uneven surface. For a moment I braced myself against it, taking deep breaths, trying to orient myself. After a few moments I dared to open my eyes. Darkness met them.

That's okay, I told myself. They told you they didn't know the situation you'd be in. They told you they didn't know where you'd come out. And now that you're here, what do you do...?

Tentatively I stretched out my hands to either side of me. Almost immediately they encountered a smooth, cool surface. I pressed against it and it refused to give. Hard. Tentatively I rapped a knuckle against it. It made a short knocking noise. Still hard. Not like wood. An inorganic substance, then. A man-made wall.

Okay. Now what do you do? I reached out my hands in front of me. They encountered nothing. Cautiously I stood up, taking my weight off of the surface (wall?) to my back. Still nothing. I took a step forward. My fingers hit a wall.

I could feel my breath coming fast again. Surrounded on all four sides by a wall. The sounds and feeling of the air corroborated that conclusion. Everything was still and silent. I was alone. Cut off.

Trapped.

No. Is there any way out? There could be. I ran my fingers lightly over the cool surface. I encountered a bar, which I pushed, but it did nothing. I kept exploring. A hard, rough floor. The wall I had had my back to was smooth at the bottom but strangely cut into and raised out of in the middle. I reached up, feeling above my head. More walls. A ceiling. Trapped.

I panicked. I struck out senselessly at the walls around me, fists closed tight. In desperation I threw a straight punch, everything I had, one of the cool walls. But instead of the same knocking sound as my other hits had made, I heard a loud shatter. Sharp fragments cascaded onto me, slicing my knuckles open.

My fist passed through the wall.

Immediately I withdrew my injured hand, cradling it to my chest. Glass. How had I been so stupid? Well, the answer was a bit obvious. I had only seen glass a few times, at the museums. And I had never gotten to touch it. Why would I? But I had seen videos of what happened when it broke. Heard recordings of the shattering sound it made. Glass.

A cool breeze whispered in through the broken wall. I felt it touch my cheeks. Like a promise. Like new hope. I could start to make out dim lights, set up high in the darkness. More tall walls. I remembered my lessons. Buildings. A street.

Starting out with a bleeding hand was not a good idea. But it also made me bold. I had panicked once. I would not do it again.

But first, I had to get out of here.