*Author’s note: If you are visiting this blog for the first time, welcome! But, you don’t want to start here. First, read “The Window Part I and then come back to this one. Seriously, stop reading now and come back when you’ve read Part I.
**Second author’s note: I sent out the first part of this story to my faithful newsletter subscribers and asked them to provide suggestions on what the next words should be. So many creative minds out there! This part of the story begins based on the idea of one of my readers. Thank you!
Another flash from outside made the room bright again, just for a moment. It was long enough for her to read words written on the door.
City of Barten
The light disappeared before she could continue reading.
Patient rules? What did that mean? How did she get here? Was she a patient? Questions bombarded her thoughts until she thought her brain would burst. She was on the verge of panic again. She could feel it coming up from her chest.
Again, she tried to slow her breathing. With much more effort, she was able to regain some composure. She had to remain calm. She knew that if she allowed herself the freak out she deserved, she would not be helping herself. She looked around the room. The window still held some promise of escape.
She tried pulling the bedside table to the window so she might reach it. She pulled at the table, but it didn’t move. She tried again, and again, but nothing. It must be bolted to the floor. Of course it was. It is probably thought to be a weapon in this place.
She tried the bed, but wasn’t surprised to find that it, too, was bolted to the floor. She looked around for anything else that might provide her with some help, but nothing showed itself. She started back to the door, but hit her toe on one of the legs of the bed.
Trying not to scream out in pain, she continued with an exaggerated limp to the door. She tried turning the handle again with the same results as before. She tried more forcefully, pushing and pulling the door as she tugged on the handle. With any luck, it may be a cheap handle or it may be loosely latched.
The door opened, but she quickly realized it was nothing she did. There was a man on the other side of the door. The light from the hall shadowed him and made him look even more sinister than the situation called for.
She wanted to scream out questions. She wanted to gouge his eyes out. She wanted to kick him in the balls. She did none of those things. She stepped back from the door and watched as the moved into the darkness. Now that he was no longer shadowed, she could see he looked rather nice. If she met him under any other circumstances, she would not have thought of him as evil.
He moved toward the bed and she backed away from him toward the window. Leaning down, he placed two items on the bed. She could see from the stream of light that one item was a flashlight. Without a word, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
She felt like an idiot for not even attempting to ask any questions. She needed some answers, but when he came in she suddenly lost all her spunk and the questions in her mind drifted away like a leaf on a windy day. She might have missed her shot at answers and she needed to find a way out of that room.
Back in the dark, she moved to the bed and lifted the flashlight. Turning it on she felt a relief she didn’t know she would. Just having some light, something she could control, helped keep her calm.
She scanned the bed for the second item he left and found a piece of paper. She unfolded the paper and shined the flashlight on the words.
TO BE CONTINUED…
***Third author’s note: I had so much fun with the newsletter suggestions, I am opening up the next part to all my readers (though you really should go ahead and subscribe to my newsletter so you don’t miss out on cool stuff like this). Respond in the comments below, send me an email by using the Contact Me! page, or send me messages on Facebook or Twitter
with your thoughts on what the note says. Your idea may be selected to continue the story. Read the next installment here.
By providing an idea for the next part, you understand that it could be used as the beginning of the next part of the story. I have all rights to the idea, if used, and may alter it in any way to fit the flow.