The slow escape

STALE and stagnant air sinks into my nostrils. Inky blackness swarms around me. Silence hangs like a thick blanket that subdues everything. That is when I realised my eyes are shut.

I open them, and all my other senses rush back to life.

The musty air is still there. Dim lights flicker in a dark, empty hallway. The taste of dust rests on my cracked, dry tongue.

The sound of chains hitting against each other reverberates through the long corridor that doesn’t seem to end.

I catch a glimpse of a faint, golden light dancing far away in the murky depths of the hallway.

I move forward just to feel cold, iron chains dig into my wrist. I pulled at them, wanting ever so badly to leave this unknown place.

Panic seizes me and I yank again.

The binds snap suddenly, perhaps extremely frail from age.

With only one goal in mind, I free myself from the weight of the heavy chains.

Without the strings of metal holding me up, I collapse onto the sooty floor. I lay there for a few moments and test my arms to see if I can at least crawl.

After regaining some strength, I begin to crawl in excruciating slowness.

Right-left-pull-right-left ... the same pattern that stretches so long. After dragging minutes of gradual inching, strength starts to seep back into my system.

Soon enough, I manage to pull myself upright.

At first stumbling and falling, I quickly gain my full capability and start running. The light doesn’t seem so far away now.

It’s an open door with light streaming out of it! It is just a few metres away.

I scramble furiously and push my tired legs even harder. When I finally reach the door, I burst into warm rays of the morning sun.

I sit up abruptly. A crisp wind swoops in from the ajar window. Winter has arrived. – By Hazel Lim, 12

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